Chapter Text
Manigoldo woke up in a cold sweat, heart racing and a scream lodged in his throat. For the fourth time this week, a nightmare interrupted his sleep, to the mounting frustration of the Cancer Saint. And what a hellish week it had been.
He sighed, running his hands through his face, trying to take deep breaths, just like Sage had taught him when he was still a brat.
"Master Sage."
Upon mention of his Master, the Saint's mind conjured up flashes of the prior nightmare. A flare of malign Cosmo at the Pope's Temple, the feeling of panic, his hurried footsteps and trembling hands against the double doors, long blue hair, his Master's body at his feet, in his arms, bloodied, blood everywhere...
“For fucks sake!” Manigoldo finally erupted, punching the bedding. How could his mind even make up such scenarios? He wasn't even there when it all happened.
"I wasn't there." The Cancerian felt his chest seize up and immediately shot up from the bed to pace around, hopeful that it would help him ignore this horrible feeling. "So what that I wasn't there? Asmita was, and it all ended well, Aspros is dead and the old man is safe. Right?”
Manigoldo looked up in the direction of the Pope’s quarters, where Sage should be resting and recovering from the attack. He scoffed at his stupidity. Of course Sage was okay, he had talked to him yesterday afternoon, and the whole Sanctuary was attentive to any suspicious Cosmo around the perimeter. His master was probably safer than ever, but he still urged to check up on him, just in case.
"Hah, a grown man like me, worrying like a troubled kid." He tried his usual method of laughing it off, but it felt void to his ears.
"Right, of course I'm stressed! Who could have thought there was a traitor amidst us, and a Gold Saint at that!” Although this was the most rational explanation for the general feeling of uneasiness among the Saints, Manigoldo's motives ran further than that.
Though he would never admit to it, the assassination attempt against his master made Manigoldo fear in a way he hadn't ever since he survived the massacre of his village. To have the one who gave him purpose, a new life, brush so close to death while he could do nothing about it caused Manigoldo's barely contained emotions to go into disarray.
It felt like that same fateful night all over again.
The Cancerian sighed, it would be impossible to return to sleep like this. Instead, he walked out. The bedroom felt stuffy. Maybe fresh air could help.
Outside, the Saint jumped up to the roof of his temple and sat cross-legged, as he had always liked to do. The view from Cancer was lacking compared to the temples higher up on the hill, from where the village of Rodorio and the valley could be seen, but a nice breeze made up for it.
Manigoldo's tired gaze landed on the temple before his, Gemini. His heart clenched up, and he directed his sight somewhere else, to the sky above him.
The night was clear, the waning moon and her accompanying stars visible. Warmth flooded his chest at the view, and he let himself relax for the first time that week, a shy smirk creeping up his mouth.
“Hah, how childish of me,” he thought, “letting nostalgia overcome my rationale."
But he closed his eyes and continued to breathe, memories from the night he met Sage flowing like balsam to his sore heart. "It's kinda funny how I let myself follow an old hag waxing poetic about the universe and shit."
And how far he had come, all thanks to that same old hag and his nonstop blabbering about the value of life, the importance of even the tiniest speck of stardust. His own life's importance. “Does it look like trash to you?”
Exhaling deeply, Manigoldo opened his eyes, fixing them on the dark sky. The twinkling constellations only stared back.
A sincere smile graced his lips. "The stars look pretty tonight, Master."
Turning his head over his shoulder, the Cancerian gazed upon the Pope's Temple and felt an ache invading his chest. Looking forward again, he huffed at his silly sentimentality. If anyone found him looking dreamily at the stars or sulking about with his feelings, word would get around, and his reputation as the Sanctuary Scoundrel would be ruined.
Determined to get his act together, Manigoldo climbed down from the roof and returned to his bedroom. With his mind finally serene, he hoped to rest for at least a few hours before the sunrise brought back his daylight responsibilities.
However, he stopped abruptly when a gentle voice rang through his mind. "Manigoldo, are you listening?"
“Master!” The Cancer Saint answered, worried by the sudden call from Sage. “What’s the matter? Are you alright?”
“Calm down, boy. I am safe.” His Master scolded him but without any bite to his voice. “We need to talk. Come see me at my chambers right away.”
“Of course, Master.”
The young Saint took a deep breath. His old man is fine, but what could he want to talk about at this hour?
Shuddering at the thought of sitting through a speech until the sun shines, Manigoldo started climbing up the steps to the Pope's Temple.