Chapter Text
Harrow balled her fist in the blanket, her knuckles turning white. The pain in her lower abdomen was unbearable, and had been for hours now. Curled into a ball and tucked squarely under the plain black covers of her bed, she gritted her teeth.
Ever since the dawn of her twelfth year, the pains came and brought blood and unholy feelings. Endless months of searching and studying followed, and there was still no necromantic fix she could find to end her suffering.
A knock resounded at the door, and she stilled. She only had to wait a few seconds before the comm system crackled to life and Crux’s pleased voice filled the air.
“My lady,” the ancient speaker on her bedside table relayed. “I have brought a servant to aid you, should you need anything. I will be predisposed with the morning’s serv-” the communication broke off harshly, and Harrowhark could hear incensed cursing through the door.
Crux must have brought Griddle to pray over her again. Weeks ago, when the reverend daughter was feeling ill, Crux had forced the red-headed idiot into Harrow’s quarters, and subsequently made her say ten Hail Necromary’s over Harrow’s crumpled body.
Harrow sighed, sure that if prayers were ever meant to be answered, the last person who’s hope would ever be deemed worthy of God’s notice were that of Gideon’ Nav’s. More likely than not, Crux was simply enjoying the opportunity to boss the imbecile around and make her look a fool.
One one hand, she desired no company. On the other hand…it had been a while since she had gotten to see Nav play servant.
“Enter” she finally said, tilting her head to the comm’s mic.
A hushed moment passed before the door groaned and swung open. Not moving from her position of the bed, the reverend daughter watched as Gideon Nav stumbled into the room, tripped over a bump in the carpet, and fell face-first onto the floor just as the door clanked shut behind her.
Already Harrowhark felt better.
“Griddle,” the reverend daughter smirked. “Come to pray?”
Gideon just stood up, brushed herself off, and said airily, “Fuck you, Nonagesimus, I hope your uterus explodes and kills you.”
“You should know that I could make yours actually do that if I wanted to, right?”
“And risk the only good DNA the Ninth’s gene pool has to offer?” Griddle responded, walking over to the bed and sitting at the foot of it, looking as though she was without a care in the world. “Really, you would be shooting yourself in the foot with a move like that.”
Harrowhark prepared a biting remark, but when she opened her mouth, all that came out was a weak noise, not unlike the creak of the door. Her stomach was clenching and somersaulting and strangling itself, and seemed to act with only the purpose of ailing her.
“Um.” Griddle said. “What?”
“Shut up,” Harrowhark managed to say, before gritting her teeth once more. “I am indisposed for one half of a second and you still manage to be the most- hrrgk!” It was one thousand needles, inside her, burning her. She couldn’t speak from the pain.
“Okay,” Nav said. “Look. It’s a period thing, right?”
Harrowhark did not dignify this with a response.
The imbecile continued on. “I figure, this happened last month and I’m on mine too, so we’re probably all synced up. Lucky for you, I happen to know a lot about period things! I’ve read books, actually. And I also happen to have a little trick that, supposing you’re super nice about, I could let you in on.”
“What are you actually even talking about now, Nav? Have you truly no idea how idiotic you sound? A secret? I can only assume exercise? Anything but leg day, I presume. Your brain is truly one of a kind in its stupidit-!” The reverend daughter gripped her stomach and curled tighter into herself, shutting her eyes. The pain was of a stabbing kind now.
“Oooh,” Griddle cooed, and Harrowhark could hear the smile in her voice. “That sounded like bad one. If only you had a good old pal who could do you a favor. Oh, well. Suffer.” She felt weight shift on the bed - was Griddle leaving?
“Hold it, Nav,” she said, her voice weak but steely. The bed creaked when Nav sat back down, and Harrow sighed, opening her eyes the least bit possible. A dull headache was setting in, and the light didn’t help. Still she met the golden eyes through her lashes and held the gaze steady. “Your trick?”
“Oh, no fucking way. It’s not free, Nonagesimus.”
“Your price, then?” She regretted asking the moment the words left her mouth.
All was silent for a moment before Gideon said “Seriously? Oh my god, um, okay - I want a bunch of nudie mags and a ticket outta this hell hole.”
“You can have 3 magazines of choice come next shipment day, and if the trick works, we can discuss an off-planet excursion. Round trip. You would return, assuming you even leave orbit.”
“Deal.”
The room went silent again, and the reverend daughter allowed herself a brief reprieve from the light, shutting her eyes again for a moment. The bed creaked as Nav’s weight shifted again.
“Okay, lay down flat on your back,” Griddle instructed. “No balling up.”
Harrowhark sighed again, but did as she was bid. Gideon took her shoes off, letting them fall to floor, and then she moved up from the foot of the bed, crawling, ignoring Harrow’s dubious stare. And then, casually, Griddle flopped down right next to her. Harrow stiffened.
No one had ever resided in this bed but the reverend daughter, and no one had ever laid so casually upon it. Harrowhark’s skin felt hot all of a sudden, out of fear maybe, or shame. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and it made her face burn under layers of face-paint. She pursed her lips and Nav rolled onto her side, elbow on the bed, chin in her hand, facing the reverend daughter.
“Ok, prepare to be awed by my amazing powers of period pain placation. Take off your dumb cloak.”
Harrowhark groaned but did as she was bid, moving slowly as she took off her shawl, cloak, sweater, and tunic, rolling them up into a large ball of black fabric and tossing it to the end of the bed. Finally, she laid back down next to Nav.
“Alright,” Griddle said, and rubbed her hands together. “Bear with me here - this is going to start out weird, but it works, so, like, just don’t be a little bitch about it, okay?” She reached her hand out and laid it on Harrowhark’s tense stomach and immediately, Harrowhark’s mind went blank.
Gideon’s hand rested on the soft flesh of her lower abdomen for only a moment, and then she began to perform a somewhat middling massage, moving her hands in a simple kneading motion with not much pressure, counterclockwise. It was truly not much to write home about.
But then Gideon’s fingertips started to move lower.