The War of Kings

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Once in the room, Failen frowned when he saw there was only one bed. Still, once they were left alone and the door was shut tight, he and Aleistar had made a makeshift bed for the knight on the floor. As a prince, it was only natural Failen take the bed. Besides, in the state he was in, he deserved it. Failen crawled under the blankets, coughing again. When it had subsided, he muttered, "Good night, Ser Aleistar."

In the morning, Failen awoke with a high fever, the sheets and blankets soaked through with his own sweat. He was delirious when Aleistar was awoke by his ramblings, muttering nonsense, his mind addled by the fever. Aleistar left him, going downstairs to find the old woman. One of the few words in her language he knew was, "Help," which is what he said then. That, and, "Please," which followed soon after.
 
"Ah, the young boy needs help, does he?" An older woman, an elf by the looks of it, smiled as she walked toward Aleistar. "Do not worry, dear knight. I will take care of the boy." She told the man, walking up the staircase.

Elga smiled at the knight. "Don't you worry yeself none. Doctor Lega is the best in town." She pat his shoulder before moving to the kitchen. "Aine is at the forge, so she will be back in a little bit." Elga smiled before stretching.

Lega was just walking in when she saw her patient. "My prince! My poor, selfless prince!" She quickly moved to examine him. "I am glad you are alive, but to see you so sick... I will fix you, I promise." She started to look over Failen quickly.
 
Aleistar followed the elven woman upstairs, standing in the doorway as she spoke, just in case. Failen wasn't looking too good; he was pale as a sheet, his skin burning to the touch, his clothes soaked with sweat. He was babbling, sometimes speaking his native language, sometimes others.

As the healer exclaimed him to be her prince, Aleistar stepped inside, shutting the door firmly. The prince seemed to find the healer funny, and gave a weak smile before bringing a finger to his lips. "Shh," he said. "Not a prince here...big brother Seron might find us..." He delved into silence again, his body shaking from the chills.

Aleistar, suspicious of everyone, asked the healer, "Why aren't you in your homeland? Why here?"
 
"The Prince Seron does not approve of the young one's supporters." Lega said, smiling lightly. "Also I may have been helping sick prisoners without permission, but that is beside the point. It seems the prince has caught what the humans call pneumonia. I will need to give him some antibiotics and he will need plenty of rest. Do not let him stay wet, make sure he has dry clothes and keep him under the blanket. He'll need to sweat this out." As the woman explained this, she pulled out her different medicines, looking for the one she would prescribe to the prince. "Here, give this to him twice daily, once in the morning once before bed for ten days. If he is still sick after then, well... he won't be, I'm sure." The woman smiled as she started to wipe off all of the sweat on the poor boy.
 
Ale instant listened intently to the woman's words, committing each instruction to memory. If they were going to take back the country from Seron, who was proving to be more mentally unstable than the Mad King, his grandfather's grandfather. Their country didn't need that. They needed Failen, who was level-headed, intelligent, and would make a good king.

Aleistar began to slowly take off the prince's clothes, wanting to get him in dry clothes as soon as possible. The bottle of medicine for him was kept snugly in his pocket, where it wouldn't break. Once the prince was stripped of his sweat-soaked clothes, Aleistar asked the woman, "Will you ask the two women downstairs for clean clothes?" With his limited vocabulary of their language, he wasn't sure he could ask properly.

Replacing the wet blankets and sheets with the ones that the knight had been sleeping on, Aleistar wrapped Failen in a heavier blanket, though the prince was still shivering. He started coughing again, his whole body wracked with the force of it as he curled inward, tears springing to his eyes. "Can I get it?" the knight asked. Having the prince bedridden for ten days was problematic enough. Having both of them in bed would Be the death of both of them.
 
"No, it's not contagious. However, I would be careful around the young girl. She knows a bit of elvish and it is not wise to say anything about the young boy being a you know what around her. She will understand he is someone important." Lega explained before moving to the door. "I will ask Elga for some new clothes. If you still have some questions, I'll be hear giving Aine a checkup."
 
Aleistar nodded, understanding prevalent in the old knight's eyes. He took a chair to the prince's bedside, gently pushing his hair from his forehead, grimacing as he felt the heat of his fever. Sitting down, he vowed to not leave he prince's side until he was better. He deserved that much.

A clacking sound started up, and it didn't take long for the knight to realize that Failen's teeth were chattering. His eyes were too bright, his forehead dampened with sweat already. He kept looking around him, though it was plain to see he wasn't comprehending any of it, his fever-addled brain foggy and slow.

Aleistar murmured, "Shh...sleep, my prince..." That, Failen seemed to understand, and he slowly closed his grey eyes, never moving them from the knight's face. Soon, his breathing leveled out, and he was asleep, though not so peacefully, constantly tossing and turning in bed.
 
There was a knock at the door followed by Aine poking her head in. She was holding fresh clothes and an extra blanket. "'Ello... um Leonah, was it? ... 'Ow's 'e doing? I 'eard you needed more clothes... The forge is closed today so I thought I'd... I don't know." She shrugged, unsure of what to say around the knight. So she simply held out the clothes. She kept the door closed behind her.

Just as she walked over to the prince, A knock came at the door. Lega called in elvish, "Knight? Is Aine in there?" Aine froze and shook her head, trying to tell the man not to let the woman know she was in there. She looked desperate enough to beg on her knees if she had to.
 
Aleistar looked between the door and Aine, wondering what he should do. He knew what his prince would have done; he was always a sneaky child, and liked to have 'adventures'. Helping a maiden by telling white lies wouldn't be beneath him. "Er..." he said. "No...?" He placed a finger to his lips before walking to Aine and taking the blanket and clothes. Making sure Failen was thoroughly asleep, he slowly took the blanket off of him.

Making sure to keep his lower half covered by the blanket, he worked to get a limp prince into a shirt, feeling how hot he was inches away from his body. Once that task was done, he decided to work on the rest of Failen when the girl was gone. "T-thank you," he said, stumbling over the 'th' sound in the first word.
 
Lega waited for a bit before sighing. "Fine... Girl never wants her checkups, but she needs the checkups!" The older woman muttered before walking away. Aine sighed in relief once she was out of earshot. She pulled up another chair from the corner before sitting down.

"You're welcome... It must be 'ard not being able to speak the 'uman language well when 'e's sick, eh? But that's fine. I'm a good talker. I've 'ad many an elvish man search for weapons from my forge. It's sorta a thing to brag about amongst the villages that an elf wants a 'uman made weapon. Of course, most of the customers I 'ave to turn done because their complete loony-bins who want weapons to 'unt down their own people! That and they're bloody biggots, I'd say. You and your Lord or whoever 'e is aren't though. I know 'e's not your nephew. I could tell by 'ow you two act around each other. It's too formal. Nothin' like me and me mum." Aine rambled, never having anyone to really talk to about things before besides her mother. She stiffened when she realized she had been basically talking the poor man's ear off. "Ah! I'm so sorry! I'll leave you two alone... I won't tell anyone yer secret, by the way. I know the feelin'." She stood up to get ready to leave, feeling like she had just invaded some boundary of privacy she was never suppose to go across.
 
Aleistar watched the young woman as she spoke, only comprehending about one in three words. Still, he knew that she knew that he and Failen weren't related. Failen was a horrible liar, and even Aleistar wasn't afraid to admit it.

As she made to leave, Failen stirred slightly, his grey eyes opened a crack. "Momma?" he asked weakly in his fevered state, only seeing Aine through his eyelashes. "I...I wanna go home, Momma..." He reached a hand out of the blanket towards her, his forehead slick with sweat. Aleistar gently guided him back under the covers, and though the prince protested softly, he wasn't in any state to be making princely commands. "Sleep," the knight said, his voice gentle but firm. "You need rest..."
 
Aine hesitated before walking over to Failen and sitting on the bed. She took his hand and brushed his hair out of his face. "Momma's here." She told him softly, trying to ignore her accent, talking slowly and softly. "You'll be home soon." She ran her hand through his hair, waiting for him to fall back asleep. "For now... rest." She hesitated, glancing back at Aleistar before leaning down and lightly kissing Failen's forehead before moving to the door and leaving the room.
 
Once she was gone, Failen began to cry. It wasn't too unusual; as a child, he would be pushed around by his twin, and would cry whenever he would get hurt. The late queen was always there to kiss away the pain, make the hurt go away, and Aleistar could always see that Failen would be near tears whenever something made him remember her. They had been close, much closer than he and his father. His father had given his love to Seron, done all he could to make Failen feel like a lesser son for not being born much longer after his brother.

After Failen had finished crying, he fell back asleep, and Aleistar was able to get him dressed again, an wrapped the other blanket around him, making sure he would be warm. "Stay well, my prince," he said softly.
 
Aine sighed as she walked through the house, avoiding Lega. Did she do the right thing, comforting the boy? She was just giving him false hopes even in his fevered state but... She shook her head. He would be fine. She wouldn't have to worry about it. However, if anyone came looking for the two... she'd fight foot and nail to keep them out of trouble. Hopefully she wouldn't have to. She did, however, get herself into trouble when she bumped into Lega. The woman dragged Aine into the kitchen, closing the door after her.
 
Failen slept for several hours quite peacefully. After a while, though, he seemed to fall into the clutches of a nightmare. The prince began tossing and turning, whimpering in his sleep. Aleistar did his best to calm the prince, whispering soft word of calming into his ear, but nothing would get him to calm down. Soon, he was screaming, his handsome face contorting in fear and grief.

Aleistar shook him awake, so he would stop shouting. "Shh, my prince," he whispered. "Just go back to sleep...all will be well soon..." Failen's temperature was still much to high, but when he went to sleep again, he seemed calmer.

-----

Elsewhere, King Seron was pouring over a map, his council seated around him. "Where could he be?!" the young man shouted, his dark hair falling across his eyes, despite how many times he would brush it away. The council was silent.

He tried to think through it logically. Failen didn't want to be predictable; that was too easy. So instead of going south, where there were more supporters of him, he would head north, where the names Seron and Failen meant nothing. Seron trailed his finger up through the White Forest, past a small mountain range. Then, he saw it: a small town, across the border into a neighboring country. It would be just like Failen to go there. No one would recognize him. "I've found you~" Seron said, smirking to himself.
 
The door quickly opened after Failen stopped screaming. Aine stood there, wide eyed and hair in a mess. "I 'eard screaming. Is everything alright?" She asked, trying to slow herself down enough to make sure Aleistar would be able to understand her. Elga had gone out to help Lega and had told her daughter that she was likely staying until two moons from then. So she was all alone with a sick boy and a knight that couldn't speak much of her language. She was on edge. If it was a forgery job, she could handle it no problem. Metal needing to be shaped and cut? Sure, nothing she couldn't handle! A sick boy and his guard, that was almost too much. She panted a bit, having run from the other side of the house. She was going to bring the two a meal.
 
Aleistar struggled to find the right word for nightmare in the human language. It wasn't a word that came up in normal conversation, so he was at a loss. "Ah..." He mumbled, seeing how startled the young woman seemed. He made some indeterminable hand gestures, his green eyes worried. After a while of flailing, he simply said, "He is fine." Bobbing his head in order to reaffirm this, he glanced over at the prince, who was now sleeping peacefully, his handsome face placid and calm.
 
Aine sighed and relaxed a bit. "Did 'e 'ave a bad dream?" She asked, walking over to Failen to make sure he didn't need anything. He was still attractive, even when he was sick. She noticed some sweat and grabbed a rag to wipe it off. She wondered just what exactly he was dreaming of. He seemed so calm despite screaming earlier. Hopefully he would be better soon.
 
Aleistar just shrugged as she asked him if it was a bad dream. He knew all the word in the sentence except 'dream', which was the operative word. So he just hoped that she didn't try to use any more complicated words.

As Aine dabbed the sweat off his forehead, Failen stirred, his eyelids fluttering as he opened them, unable to reach lucidity. In his mind, he was home, at the castle. He was still sick, but his mother was tending to him, making him feel better. "Mmm," he groaned, turning his head slightly. "Water..." he mumbled, his voice hoarse from screaming.
 
"I'll go get it for you, just stay there." Aine said, walking back to the kitchen. She grabbed the two bowls she had been preparing for the men and a glass of water. In one bowl was noodles and various meats, the other was a simple tomato soup. She walked back to the room, using her back to open the door and set the things down on the small table. "Alright, this time I managed to find some spoons and forks to eat with." She set down the different things before moving to Failen. "You need to sit up if you want water..." She said, grabbing a few pillows to rest against the headboard of the bed so Failen could sit up comfortably.
 
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