The War of Kings

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Failed had snapped out of his dream before Aine could return, and had tears in his eyes by the time she did. However, being the prideful young prince that he was, he didn't let them fall, deciding that it wasn't becoming of a nobleman to cry in front of a lady. Sniffling a bit as she arranged the pillows, he tried to push himself up, but needed the help of Aleistar to do it.

He was feeling strangely lucid now, better than he had been feeling. Maybe it was because of the medicine, but he felt like he was getting better. "Thank you..." he mumbled, before beginning to cough again, and suddenly he felt just as bad as he had been earlier.
 
"It's no trouble. Are you feeling up to some food?" Aine asked, taking the bowl of tomato soup. "It's good, I promise. Oh, and here's your food." Aine handed a bowl to Aleistar before turning back to Failen. She waited patiently, green eyes full of concern. She hadn't dealt with many sick people before so she wasn't exactly sure how to deal with them.
 
Failen drank some of the water, thankful for the cool liquid as it slid down his throat and soothed the burning sensation created by the coughing. When asked if he could eat, he shrugged. "Perhaps," he said. In truth, his stomach felt like a tempest was raging inside of it, but he knew he would need to keep his strength up. Aleistar, meanwhile, was waiting for the prince to eat, as it was custom for the king to eat first before anyone else. Aleistar would refuse to eat if Failen couldn't eat, he decided. He stifled back a yawn; between watching over the prince and guarding him, the knight hasn't slept in a while, and was definitely beginning to feel fatigued.
 
"Alright, we'll see if you can stomach some soup... but just in case." She walked out and got a bucket before putting it on the bed near Falien. "If you need to use it, use it." She grabbed the bowl of tomato soup and spoon, taking a little bit and blowing on the hot liquid. She then held it in front of Failen's mouth, waiting for him to take a bite so she could give him another spoonful. Hopefully the soup would sit well with him.
 
Failen waited silently, and once the soup was cool enough for him to eat it, he parted his lips and took a bite, smiling a bit as the warm liquid went down his throat. For a few seconds, he was fine, and was about ready for another bite. A moment later, though, he threw up, bending his head over the bucket. Once he was finished, he gave a weak smile, though inside his pride was wounded. Looking at Aine, he frowned a bit before saying, "No more...Leave...please." He looked away from her, his stomach still reeling. Beginning to cough again, he bent over, covering his mouth. I hate being sick, he thought bitterly.
 
Aine sighed. "Alright. If you feel a bit better later, we'll try again." She took the bowl and started walking out of the room. She was going to leave when she turned back to the knight and gave him a maternal glare. "Now, I don't care what customs you two've got in your country, but you'll be of no use to 'im if you get sick too. So you better eat your damn bowl or I will force it down your throat." She threatened before closing the door and leaving the two alone. She sighed and grabbed her coat. She needed to relax and forging was just the thing to help her do that.
 
With a glance at Aine, then back at Failen, feeling vaguely threatened by her final words to him. Slowly, he took a bite of his food, the warmth of it filling him. Once she was gone, Faaiken looked over at him, saw him eating, and only sighed. A while later, he fell asleep again, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead again. Quickly, Aleistar finished his food before setting it on a nightstand, returning to his seat at Failen's side, where he would remain for as long as he was needed.

((Want to time skip here a bit?))
 
After about a week of keeping the sick Failen in their house, Aine and Elga had gotten into a routine with them. Aine would get up first to greet the already awake knight. She'd then change Failen's sheets as Elga prepared breakfast. After breakfast Aine would go out to the forge, leaving Elga to clean the house and have Aleistar chop up a bit of firewood seeing as they were getting low from keeping the fireplaces lit. When lunch rolled around, Elga left to give Aine her lunch in the forge before serving the two upstairs. Elga would knit the rest of the afternoon until Aine came home and prepared dinner. It was nice having people other than the two women in the house and Aine was quite enjoying the company, even if half of said company was sick and the other half didn't know much of her language, but he was learning.

That morning, Lega was in the house, checking up on Failen. She was silent throughout the whole thing, doing the regular things and also checking the prince's temperature. She showed no signs of approval or disapproval over his current condition.
 
The week had been a trying time for both Failen and the knight. Failen rarely had any appetite, and when he did he would throw up. This caused him to lose weight, and soon none of hiss clothes fit him. He went through sheets like nothing, and Aleistar rarely slept, always remaining with his prince. Rarely was Failen lucid; most of the time he was caught between reality and nightmare.

Meanwhile, Seron had mobilized his soldiers, and was riding through his country north, a golden crown gleaming on his head, his armor painted in the blues and silvers of his family in intricate patterns.

When Lega came on the seventh day, Failen was having a bad day. He was awake, but he wasn't seeing anything, still caught in an awful nightmare. As she took his temperature, he screamed and lashed out, hitting the woman in the shoulder, though he was too weak to do much damage . "Is he getting better?" Aleistar asked worriedly. "I have been giving him the medicine, but it doesn't seem like anything is changing..."
 
"Hmm... did his brother do anything to him before he left?" Lega asked, looking through her bags for either a cure to a poison or a curse. It would not be below the brother to do something of such magnitude. She was frustrated that the prince was not getting better, it was making the young Aine frustrated too. She had been working harder than usual in the forge to work off some of the worries for the young man.
 
Aleistar shook his head. "All I know is that we were on a hunting excursion in the King's Woods, and Seron tried to kill Prince Failen. He was using a dagger, dipped in a poison. They had gone off alone, away from the hunting party, but I followed. We...I still have the dagger..."

He walked to his knapsack, and dug through it before taking out the dagger. It was wrapped in cloth, to keep the poison from getting on anything accidentally. Approaching the healer, he unwrapped the dagger. Its blade had a virulent green liquid on it, which was extremely viscous. On a part of it, blood had mixed with the poison, discoloring it. "This is it," he said, careful not to touch the blade.
 
"Why did you not show me this earlier? I could have skipped the whole normal cure nonsense and went straight for the source!" Lega ranted, grabbing her bag and taking out a cloth. She dabbed the poison and put it in a small bottle with a clear liquid in it. She watched the poison react before looking for the proper antidote. "Use my own poison against the prince, that damn man..." She muttered, quickly searching for the proper antidote. "It fools the body into thinking its pneumonia when it is quite the opposite. I just hope I'm not giving the cure to him too late." She pulled out a vile that held a strange blueish looking liquid.

Meanwhile, at the forge, Aine was dealing with Jaque asking for her to completely redo her order. "It is perfectly fine! Stop 'arping me and take the damn weapons to your shop!" Aine growled before shoving the ready weapons. Jaque shoved them back continuing with his arguing.
 
"I didn't think it was important! He was fine the whole time we were traveling north. He only got sick when we arrived here, so I figured he had contracted some human disease that we elves aren't immune to." He frowned as he saw the vial. "That will make him better? How long will it take? Seron could be right at the doors to this house tonight and Prince Failen is in no state to be moved."

He ran a hand through his dark hair, looking down at the ailing prince. Tomorrow, we leave, he decided, even if Failen wasn't better. They had to keep moving, no matter what. He would carry the prince, if need be.

Meanwhile, Seron and a small army of fifteen of the best soldiers in the elven army had arrived at the outskirts of the town Aine and her mother lived in. "Failen's a smart man...I know how logical he is, so he would make a smart decision. Logically, he would at least pass through this town. Were here to see if anyone knows where he or that traitorous knight of his went." Sketches had been made of both the knight and Failen, for the soldiers to show.

"Find where my brother is. If either of them are here, kill the knight, but take my brother alive."

The soldiers all tied their horses up and left. Seron was dressed in fine wool clothes over tight leather armor. The clothes were fashioned in such a way that the armor couldn't be seen beneath it, further protecting the king. With only one knight as his guard, he approached a building that looked like a forge. Hearing words of argument, he stepped inside, brushing his hair aside. He hung back while they argued, his green eyes--the same as Failen's--scanning the two. He folded his arms; he did not like being made to wait.

Anyone who knew either one of the twins could tell their other just by appearances; the two brothers were identical in nearly everything. The only difference was that Failen had a dark brown birthmark on the outside of his thigh, in a perfect circle. And, obviously, their personalities. Still, for someone who had been around Failen as much as Aine had been, she could easily tell they were brothers.

Finally, the knight stepped forward, placing himself between the man and woman. Seron spoke up, brushing his black shoulder-length hair back. "Have you seen these men?" He held up the parchment that held the sketches. "They are traitors to my country."
 
As soon as Aine was interrupted by the man she knew exactly what was going on. He was a royal and the two that she and her mom were harboring were obviously on his bad side. He was a lot meaner than Failen though. "No, I 'aven't seen anyone like that. Now if you would excuse us, I need to finish up my business with this man 'ere."

"Oh, my sweet Aine, aren't those the two men you were keeping safe in your lovely abode? You shouldn't lie my dear." Jaque teased, taking the weapons and bowing to the elf. The man looked clearly drunk and was holding what could have been his fifth bottle that day.

"Jaque, are you seein' things again? If you're talking about the uncle and his nephew they skipped town days ago. They should be up in the mountains by now. Don't know why they were in such a rush. It seemed like they were bein' chased by something. Well if they were those guys on your poster then they're long gone." Aine explained, moving to go back and continue her forgery work. "I would suggest you get on your way if you want to catch them."
 
Seron narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose at the drunk human. Still, if his words were true, then he would need to interrogate the woman. He looked at the knight, giving the smallest of nods. Drawing out his dagger, he said, in a too calm voice, "Don't lie to me...If I find information that says otherwise, I will return, and I will kill you." He turned, trudging through the snow towards the house that was adjacent to the forge.

His posture impeccably straight, he knocked on the door. For some reason, he felt like the woman was trying to protect his brother. Why, he had no idea. There was one thing that he and his brother shared that was the most important. Both were intelligent, even for elves. As children, they had always warred against each other during the logic games, and each had always ended as a stalemate. Seron knew when to investigate further. This was one of those times.

In the bedroom, Aleistar had just heard the knocking on the door. He paled a couple shades. "Gods above," he breathed. Glancing out the windows after parting the curtains, he let out a curse. "Seron is here...we've got to move the prince. If he even suspects that someone in the town is hiding something from him, he will search every hidden corner and then destroy it. Everyone will die here..." Aleistar ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it. "We...we need to make sure that he catches a glimpse of the prince, but believes him to be leaving...gods above..." He looked down at the prince, who was shaking and sweating as he slept, despite the coolness of the room and the blankets covering him. Aleistar wasn't even sure if he was dressed, given that he hadn't changed him since the morning before. He let out a slow breath before gently shaking Failen until he awoke.
 
"Wait just a moment sir! If you really want to search my 'ouse that badly then you'll need the key. My mum is out shopping." Aine quickly interrupted, talking loudly to make sure the three in the bedroom could hear her. "I promise you, you'll find nothing but an old 'ouse with two lonely women. If you want to, you can even look out the back door for footprints. Just let me get the damn key." The young smith took out a key ring full of keys that belonged to every lock in the whole town. She silently thanked her neighbors for lending her spares in case of losing theirs.

Lega had just finished giving Failen the antidote when she heard what Aleistar was saying. She nodded before hearing the young human girl outside. "Gods above, what is that girl thinking! She'll be killed! What are we going to do now?" She packed up her bag of instruments and potions, hoping the knight had a plan.
 
Aleistar bit his lip, frowning. "One thing at a time," he said. "Right now, we need to move the prince." He bent over him, slowly pulling off the blankets that were keeping him warm. Sure enough, the young man was naked beneath his blankets. Aleistar must have neglected to change him, perhaps to make sure he didn't soil any other clothes. "Gods above," he muttered, struggling to dress the barely conscious prince.

He was practically a rag doll as clothes were forced onto him, all his muscles feeling too week to do anything. He was having one of his worse days, his mind out of sorts and his eyes bright with fever. "Allie..." he groaned, like when he used to do when he was a child. "Don't wanna move...wanna stay, Allie..." The night sighed, buttoning the prince's jacket and putting boots on him. Now, all of the clothes Aine had lent him were too big, and the jacket slid off of one shoulder as Aleistar helped him up.

By now, Failen's face was bright red, sweat falling off his face from exertion. Aleistar wrapped his arm around the boy, keeping him standing as he helped the prince out of the room, careful not to let him fall.
 
Lega followed after them, praying to the gods above that Aine was alright and the prince would make it out safely. "My home is hidden by a magic that only lets those pure of heart see. The prince's brother will not be able to find it. If we can get him there, we can keep him safe." She whispered, glancing at the front door as they slowly walked.

"Damn key, I can never find the right one...." Aine's hand shook as she struggled to find the right key. She had to wait it out, just wait until she knew they had had enough time to get out of the house to safety. Hopefully they would leave some footprints in the snow. It hadn't snowed for the past week so if they had left earlier the tracks would still be there. She jumped as a wolf howled, probably lost from its pack.
 
Aleistar nodded, moving Failen out the back door. Halfway there, he got watery knees, and Aleistar had to take on his whole weight. Had the prince not gotten sick, he would be difficult to keep up, but since he was so thin now, it was like carrying nothing. Once outside, Aleistar moved him to the side of the house, leaning him against the wall for a moment. Near the door, he heard Aine speaking.

Seeing how she dallied, Seron shouted, "Gods be damned, woman! Have you no sense?" He shoved her out of the way, gesturing for knight to break the door down. However, before he could do anything, Seron caught sight of dark hair flecked with grey. Spinning, he saw the knight Aleistar. "After him!" he shouted at his own knight, drawing his sword.

Aleistar, realizing that the ploy to get Seron away worked, yelled, "Run, Aine!" as he swept Failen into his arms, racing for the treeline with the prince in his arms, making pained noises each time he was jostled.
 
Aine wanted to curse, wanted to stop the man so she could keep the knight and his prince safe. She felt frozen, stuck to the ground as she watched the two get away. She then remembered her mother, her dear sweet mother had gone out. She ran. She had to find her last family member. She had to find her mum!

Lega cursed as she ran toward her home, hoping the boys had some sense as to come and find her after they lost the prince. She made sure to leave a trail for the boys, knowing Seron would not be able to find her humble abode.
 
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