IP Pt. 2 good lord

[relegate]

Allen sat back on his feet with a groan of exasperation and a look of utter disbelief on his face. Had he really rescued this jerk? Really? “Look,” he said with an annoyed expression to mirror the Prince’s own. “It was the best we could do while you were unconscious.”

“And yet now I am clearly not,” Arthur replied back just as coolly. It made Allen want to smack his palm into his face but somehow he managed to refrain from doing so, instead just fixing the older male with a sour expression. “...What?”

“Nothing,” the brunet replied in a defeated tone, looking to the side and down at the vial. The tiniest bit of hope flickered inside at the idea if cramming it down the prat’s throat until he was sure he’d drunk enough to be out for the next eight years but then the problem of how exactly he’d get Arthur to drink it came up and he threw the thought right out the window with a heavy sigh. “How do you feel?” he asked, his tone lacking any actual heart-felt concern.

“I’ve been stabbed,” the blonde answered as if the answer was obvious and Allen was an idiot for asking. “How do you think I feel?”

“You don’t have to be so rude you know! It was just a question,” the brunet snapped back. “How am I supposed to know if you need any treatment?”

“Oh I’m quite confident I won’t be needing any more of your ‘treatment’ from now on,” Arthur assured him stubbornly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not! Do you even know how close you were to dying a few days ago??”

“And yet here I am before you. So as you can see I no longer require whatever...meager services you’ve tried to apply here,” he replied with a look of unease as he finally turned his attention to their surroundings. It was a mess of used dishes and worn clothes as far as he could see, and when he spied the rather large pile of fish bones off to one side of the fire pit he tried not to cringe. “What are you anyway, some kind of savage?”

Allen bristled. “What??”

“Your camp is a mess!”

“Sorry, but I was looking after an ungrateful jerk for the last week and a half so I haven’t exactly had a lot of time to keep things all neat and tidy your highness,” the ashen-eyed teen replied, voice irate as he crossed his arms over his chest. The irony of his words escaped him.

“A, a week and a half?” Arthur balked, reflexively trying to sit up again. This time Allen didn’t bother to push him back down and just leered at the blonde as he lay back down with a groan.

“Yeah. I thought you’d be out longer after your injuries but I guess I wasn’t that lucky. It’s a miracle you even survived! If whoever stabbed you had chosen the right side instead of your left they probably would have died within minutes.” And for some reason that escaped the youth the knowledge made his ‘guest’ silent, a pensive expression cross his face.

“...I need to get back to Camelot,” he said finally, closing his eyes.

“--Camelot?”

Arthur glanced over with a raised brow. “That is what I said, isn’t it?”

“I heard you! But there’s no way you could travel like this,” Allen protested. “I’m not even sure you haven’t torn open your wound already with all the fuss you’ve made so far.”

“I do not ‘fuss’! Any person right in their mind would have reacted in the exact same manner under such terrible conditions!”

“A normal person would have said thank you at least!” the brunet replied with a scowl. “But I guess that’s too much hope for coming from you.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?!”

“Exactly what it sounds like!” Allen snapped back. “I’ve done nothing but try and help you this whole time and you act like I’m the one that put you there! Why can’t you just accept help??”

“Because I do not need it, nor did I ask for it,” Arthur replied, but in a much quieter and somber tone than before that made the younger of the pair blink faintly despite his leer. “What I need is to head back to Camelot. I need to send word to my fath--ugh,” he cringed visible when he tried to bring his arms up in an attempt to lift his torso higher, and although Allen opened his mouth to begin chastising him he stopped at the sight of fresh patch of red that had begun to seep through the bandages he’d wound the previous day.

“--! I told you!” he cried, hastily moving to grab a fresh cloth and his water skin. Arthur wasn’t really given a chance to protest as the brunet went to work, grabbing a knife to cut away the old bandage so that he could get at the wound faster.

“H, hey--!”

“Just be quiet! This is your fault to begin with. If you’re going to complain then just take this,” he replied curtly, grabbing the vial from earlier and shoving it into the Prince’s hand and applying pressure to the bundled clothes on his abdomen. Arthur’s affronted sound of pain was ignored in favor of reaching for the same salve they’d used to help close the wound initially, and only once he had the things he’d need gathered around him did he turn to the elder male with a solemn and matter-of-fact expression. “Hold this down,” he said sternly, motioning to the bundle of bandages on his abdomen. “I’m going to wipe away the blood and try to close it, so unless you want to bleed out in the middle of nowhere just make sure you keep pressure applied.”

“I get it,” the Prince seethed back, hand already closed tightly around the sleeping draught even as his pride refused to allow him to drink it. He glanced warily down at the bunched up cloth for half a moment, but at an insistent look from the brunet he moved to hold it down and bit back a hiss of pain. “Am I to a-assume you’re some sort of remedial physician’s apprentice or something?” he managed out, watching as the youth poured fresh water onto both his hands to cleanse them as well as another cloth and pulled the stopper from the jar of balm.

“Hardly,” Allen smirked wryly. “Okay, release the pressure slowly. I’m going to see how badly it’s seeping.”

The Prince made a face. “Must you describe it like that...? And if you aren’t a physician’s apprentice then which sort of medicine man do you study under??” He did move the cloth as Allen instructed though, and the brunet allowed himself to let out a sigh of relief when he saw that it wasn’t as bad as he feared.

“Yes, I must. Now hold still, this might sting...”

“--Ow!! ‘Might’?!”

“I told you to hold still,” Allen repeated as he dabbed at the wound again as gently as possible to wipe away the excess blood. With that accomplished he scooped a generous amount of the balm onto his fingertips and moved to carefully spread it on the area around the wound first, and then to smooth it over the slight opening itself. It was obviously painful for the blonde Prince but he didn’t make any further sound toe belie his discomfort. In fact he was oddly silent as the brunet pulled back and put his things aside, wiping off and cleaning his hands once again before starting to re-dress his stomach. In the back of his mind he noted that oddly Allen didn’t once remove his gloves throughout the entire procedure.

“...You still haven’t told me what manner of discipline you study under,” Arthur finally spoke up once the teen had finished tying off the edge of the bandages and started to work on cleaning up the supplies he’d used to tend to him with.

“Hmm?”

“Your discipline,” he sighed with exasperation at having to say the words yet again. “What practice are you studying? If you’re not a physician...”

“Oh,” Allen blinked as he glanced back and scratched the base of his neck. “I’m nothing like that. One of the friends I was traveling with was an herbalist. That’s where all this medicine came from. He showed me how to look after your wounds and stuff too.” He looked just a bit sheepish for a moment, even as relief at seeing the blonde finally settle back and relax filtered through. “I’m actually just a performer.”

“A performer.”

“Yeah, you know. Not like a jester or anything--for plays and shows and stuff.”

“...Oh. Well this is just wonderful then isn’t it.”

“It’s better than dying isn’t it?”

“I’m beginning to wonder.”

Allen scowled again and turned to begin another bout of admonishing the older male for his rudeness, but by the time he’d open his mouth halfway he realized that the blonde’s eyes had already closed and his breathing had slowed a great deal. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved that his strength had finally run out or annoyed that he’d gotten the last word, but after a moment of watching him sleep peacefully he decided to simply count his blessings that it would be quiet from then on. Or at least until Arthur woke up again. That he wasn’t looking forward to.

It was even more annoying when he gave the camp a quick once-over and realized it really had seen cleaner days. The ashes hadn’t been scooped out of the fire pit--which was still nothing more than a quick fix, and suddenly with a start he groaned and rushed back over to the fish he’d forgotten earlier. He didn’t even need to see it to know how charred it would be when he pulled it out of the ground and stared down mournfully at what would have been his lunch. Perfect.

At least the river was full of plenty more, so the next morning after he’d finished cleaning up around the camp and getting rid of the dirty dishes he started cooking anew. And luckily he wasn’t ‘graced’ with the presence of any royalty until after he’d finished grilling them over the open flame. “Finally awake?” he called back without turning his head to look at the blonde as he pulled the sixth fish he’d prepared from its place next to the fire and pushed it off the skewer.

“I thought you were the one who said I needed rest in the first place,” was the rather grumpy-sounding reply that greeted him, and he didn’t bother to hide the half-smirk that grew on his face as a result when he came over.

“I know...I just didn’t think you’d listen.”

Arthur tossed him a glare but unlike the previous day made no attempts to pull himself into an upright position. “Unlike some people I possess more than a shred of intelligence when it comes to taking care of one’s own well-being.”

“Oh, was that why you tore open your wound yesterday?” the brunet asked, tone musing as though they were merely discussing the weather. It pulled a deeper frown from his charge but he grinned anyway and held up a wooden bowl with chunks of grilled fish in it up.

“...And what is that?”

“Breakfast,” he said simply, setting it down at Arthur’s side. He was already starting to dig into his own bowl (which the elder noted carried a great deal more fish in it) when the Prince reached over and brought it up carefully, giving it a once-over with a scrutinizing gaze. He sighed. “Just eat it, okay? Its fine and pretty much all we’ve got until Teidoll comes back.”

“Teidoll?” Arthur wrinkled his nose and set the bowl aside. “And who is that?”

“The friend I mentioned earlier. The herbalist who told me how to treat you.”

“What on earth are doing way out here in the middle of nowhere anyway?” the blonde sighed. “Surely you can’t expect me to believe you’re just a band of traveling performers who just happened to come across my body.”

“Why are you so suspicious of everyone??” Allen made a face as he piled more food into his mouth. “You should just be grateful. I haven’t asked you what you were doing out there have I? I don’t even know your name.”

Arthur just stared at him. “You can’t be serious. This is some sort of joke, right?” And of course the brunet just gave his an odd look, cheeks bulging with the sheer amount of food he’d shoved in there. He made a face of disgust. “What are you, an animal? Chew your food, don’t just stuff your face!”

“What about you? You haven’t even touched yours,” the youth countered. And just to spite the Prince, he took another bite and continued to speak. “You’ve got to be hungry after sleeping for so long.”

“Trust me, whatever appetite I had before is completely gone,” Arthur muttered. “And really, how can you not know who I am? It should be obvious!”

Allen shrugged. “Suit yourself. And I knew you had an ego, but I didn’t think it was this big.”

“This has nothing to do with that! You’re seriously telling me you don’t have a clue who I am?”

“Would I have asked if I did?”

“Unbelievable,” Arthur barked out in a weak laugh of disbelief at the whole situation. “Lost in the middle of nowhere with an actor parading around as a physician and he doesn’t even know who I am! You really are an idiot.”

“Well if it’s such a big deal maybe you should tell me,” Allen replied, clearly unimpressed. “And stop being so high and mighty would you?”

“‘High and mighty’?? I am Prince Arthur! Son of your King, so you would do well to show me some respect!” he replied. Allen just scooped more fish into his mouth.

“Aren’t Princes supposed to be more refined? Or at least polite enough to thank someone for helping them.”

“Did you not hear a word I just said?” Arthur laughed in disbelief, but his tone held anything but amusement. “I’m Prince Arthur.”

“You can call yourself a prince as much as you want, it doesn’t excuse you for being so rude,” the brunet replied dismissively.

“I am a Prince!”

“More like a stubborn pain in the back... Look, just try and at least have some water would you? I need to have a bath and gather some more firewood,” Allen said as though he hadn’t taken note of a single thing the blonde had said.

“Unbelievable...” he repeated with a shake of his head. “This really cannot be happening.”

“Trust me, as much as we both hate to admit it--it is,” the gray-eyed teen replied as he dusted off his pants and stood. “Sit tight Prince Arthur, I’ll only be gone a little while.” He made a display of sweeping an arm out with an exaggerated bow that made Arthur scowl irritably.

“If you’re going to bathe you might as well do something useful and prepare one for me.”

Allen stopped in mid-step and looked back in surprise. “...What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself--pay attention when people are speaking to you,” the Prince replied. “Now if you’re going to go have a bath I wish for you to draw one for me as well. How long do you expect me to lie here in one place?”

“Forever would be nice...” he muttered under his breath, but he crossed his arms over his chest anyway. “Fine, but I’m not going to wash you. You take care of that yourself.”

Arthur bit back a barking laugh. “What on earth makes you think I want you of all people touching me? You’re probably covered in diseases.”

“I’m plenty clean, thank you very much!” the brunet bristled. “And this isn’t how you get people to do things for you either, just so you know!”

“Funny, because it sounds to me like you were about to go on your way and draw me a bath,” the Prince replied dismissively in a manner that honest had the youth trying not to grind his teeth as he turned on heel and more or less trudged out of the camp in frustration. He was starting to wonder less and less why someone might have wanted him dead, and at this rate he wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t be the one to finish the prat off himself. Honestly, how anyone could be so rude and ungrateful was beyond him. Maybe he suffered from severe delusions...he did seem to think he was a prince after all.

‘Still no excuse to be so rude,’ he thought with a scowl as he pulled off his cloak and began to remove his shirt.

Clunk.

Arthur started in surprise as the sudden sound to his right and winced predictably as he jolted his injury, but Allen only smiled at him in a fashion that was far too friendly to be honest as he clapped his hands together. “There you are, your majesty. Your bath awaits.”

“...This is a bucket of water, Allen.”

The brunet continued to smile. “Yes, it is. I hope you weren’t expecting anything fancy like a heated bath. I mean, we are in the middle of ‘nowhere’ right? I’m sure even you’re logical enough to realize how impossible that request would be, and I know you’ll manage just fine like the rest of us lowly peons,” he said, holding out a wash cloth for a brief moment before letting it fall into the bucket of icy water at his feet. “Enjoy.”

“You--can’t be serious!” Arthur sputtered, staring at him incredulously.

“You don’t think I am?”

“There is no way I’m going to be able to bathe like...like this!”

“Oh? Like what?” the brunet tilted his head. “I thought you said you were doing just fine a little while ago.”

The Prince fixed him with a look that was obviously quite cross. For a moment though it almost seemed as though he’d swallow his pride like a practical person and request the help Allen knew he needed...and then the blonde opened his mouth. “And I am! I never have, nor will I ever have need of your assistance,” he replied arrogantly, and Allen’s eyes narrowed in irritation. What on earth was wrong with this guy??

“Good,” he said instead of pointing out the obvious flaw in Arthur’s plan. “I’m going to gather wood then. Have fun washing up.” He left without so much as another word even if he continued to fume internally. Was there going getting through to this guy? If not a Prince (because honestly, what kind of Prince acted that spoiled?) then he surely had to be the son of some Lord or Noble...but even that didn’t excuse the sheer amount of pride and stupidity he carried himself with. Why couldn’t he just accept the fact that he needed help? There was no way he was going to be able to do anything for himself for a while yet. Was he too stubborn to admit it to himself, or was his ego really so inflated that it disallowed him to use common sense?

“Maybe he received brain damage too,” he muttered to himself as he scoured the ground for any stray branches to use for kindling. At this point he wouldn’t really be surprised if that were the case.

Of course from Arthur’s point of view while he may admit there to be a small matter of pride at stake, it was much more pertinent for him to get back to Camelot as soon as possible. Injury or no, it had been Allan (the similarity between their names and faces still put him at odds) who had given him such a grievous injury, and no doubt by now any riders his father had sent out would have found the fallen bodies of his guard. He could only hope--no, he was sure that his father would not rest until his own body was recovered. It was only a matter of time before they stumbled upon him in his “savior’s” camp and he was taken back to Camelot so he could expose Brochwel’s son.

It was all just a matter of time, he repeated to himself over and over. He could have his wound properly treated by Gaius, order Merlin to fetch him a warm bath...and then have real food put before him. His nose wrinkled as he turned to look at the bowl that had been provided earlier, staring at the flaked fish meat. It hardly looked as though it had been cooked in a proper oven let alone seasoned, and--

Did it just move?

Arthur brought a hand up to wipe across his face quickly (minding his injury) and blinked several times as he stared down at the small wooden dish. Other than sitting harmlessly on a small rock nothing seemed out of the ordinary...perhaps he’s merely been seeing things. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself around a sigh as he lay down flat on his back. “Not only am I under-fed, but I’m starting to go delirious now too--” Clatter-clack.

Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned hastily to look at the bowl again. What on earth was going on?? He was sure he’d heard something, but it was just sitting there! It didn’t seem as if there was anything wrong with it... But he continued to stare in silence for several moments longer, and just when he’d convinced himself that it had just imagined it the wooden bowl twitched.

Or more correctly it looked as if it had been nudged slightly. It remained still for several long moments after that, but eventually it was nudged again; and then again and again, until it had almost been pushed right off the rock itself. That’s what he saw it: a flash of yellow that looked oddly like...wings? He hadn’t heard any earlier... In fact as odd as it was to note, he hadn’t noticed any signs of any wild animals save the fish the brunet had brought over since setting out from Camelot.

Another flutter drew his attention back to the bowl though, and with the faintest hint of apprehension to his features he watched as the yellow wings fluttered into view again in almost a dragonfly-like fashion. Whatever they belonged to seemed to have finally made it up onto the rock and the sound of tiny pitter-patters could be heard as it scuttled closer. It made him think for a moment of a cockroach, but that thought vanished almost as soon as he saw the tiny yellow appendage come up around the rim of the bowl as if feeling around for something to grab onto.

It was tiny--impossibly tiny, smaller than even the tiny paws of a dormouse. And it seemed like there were actual fingers on it too. With widening eyes he watched as it fumbled around for several moments before the sound of wings fluttering could be heard again and it tugged on the edge of the wooden dish once, twice, and with a jolt that Arthur mimicked it flipped back onto itself, tumbling off the rock and apparently taking down whatever had been trying to get into it at the same time. There were noticeable sounds of struggling and the sound of the bowl hitting rock, but when it went quiet without warning and no further sounds were heard he tried to crane his neck to see if he could catch a glimpse of the insect.

Only to find out it wasn’t an insect at all when yellow wings started flapping without warning and the tiny creature more or less hopped up onto the rock itself. It was a small and rounded, like a tomato almost, and entirely yellow in color. It possessed no face as far as he could tell. There was only a lighter-colored cross of sorts where it might have been placed, and upon closer inspection he could see that it has the tiniest of horns on its head and four legs rather than just one, each of them sporting an identical hand-like appendage. A swish from behind showed it even had a tail of all things, and a large tuft of fluff (or fur, he wasn’t sure) stuck out at the end.

Between its front two ‘hands’ was clutched a large chunk of the fish that had been prepared, and as it tucked its wings in at its sides Arthur watched, transfixed as a mouth seemed to materialize from nowhere and opened. The sight of twin rows of sharp, needle-like teeth put him on edge, but it really wasn’t until it seemed to stop and finally notice him that he froze. Silence hung between them like a thick barrier for several moments as the tiny thing ruffled its wings but was broken readily by a cry of surprise when it finally launched itself towards the blonde Prince in a flutter of yellow feathers.

His attempts to shuffle backward were thwarted by his injuries but they in no way hindered him from flinching back from it reflexively as it landed on his chest and seemed to study him. He barely even allowed himself to breathe as it ruffled itself again, chewing up the last few remnants of Arthur’s meal. Which was tolerable enough despite how at far from his comfort zone it put him, but when the thing start crawling up his chest toward him he couldn’t help the goose bumps that prickled his skin and the cringe he made before a hand shot out and smacked the small creature away suddenly.

It made no noise upon being hit, but as it was sent flying through the air into the ring of stones surroundings the fire pit there was an off-putting cracking noise as it landed on its left wing roughly, skidding several inches before coming to a stop and lying still. For a moment it seemed as though the blow had somehow killed it, but after several seconds passed the yellow creature twitched--and then rolled over onto one side. One feathery wing flapped indignantly behind it but the other remained bent at an odd angle. It almost seemed like it was, well, fuming at him; which was obviously impossible.

Impossible or not though it wasn’t nearly as unbelievable as what happened next, his eyes widening as the tiny thing more or less snapped its broken wing out like wrinkled laundry and promptly began to flap it as if it were good as new. And the moment that it had that accomplished it naturally launched itself at him again. It wisely avoided his arms this time though and made a beeline right for his head, landing in the messy strands of his hair and clinging on with tiny hands as it fluttered its wings. It didn’t really do much to help the Prince calm down either.

“A, Arthur--?? What’s wrong? What happened?” For all his complaining and (in his opinion) utterly terrible attitude towards royalty Arthur had to admit he was almost impressed by how fast the brunet had booked it back there upon hearing his alarmed shout. He wasn’t even wearing shoes, just a loose shirt and pants rolled up to the knees. Wet hair stuck out at impossible angles too but in all honesty Arthur was focusing less on that and more on the...the beetle or canary or whatever the heck it was that was in his hair.

“There’s this--this thing--!” he sputtered out, lifting a hand to try and swat at the creature violently despite how his body protested the action, but he didn’t get much farther than lifting the appendage a couple of inches off the ground before the grey-eyed youth almost tripped over himself in an attempt to bridge the distance between them and hastily yanked the golden thing out of his hair. “Ow--!”

“S, sorry about that!” Allen cut in before Arthur had a change to start complaining in earnest. He was already trying frantically to tuck the small spherical creature away in his hands with limited success as it flailed around, trying to worm its way out of the cage he’d created with them. “Sometimes there’s, ah...bugs! Large bugs out here! I’ll get rid of it right away--”

“That is most certainly not a bug of any sort I’ve ever seen!” Arthur protested stubbornly as he watched the teen. Color had drained somewhat from his face and his movements had become almost anxious as he worked to tuck the thing away in a discarded side bag of all things. “It...it had to be some sort of magical beast or something! I was sure I broke its wing, but it kept on moving as if it were nothing.”

“I’m sure you’re just seeing things,” Allen assured him flippantly in a hurried tone as he stuffed the fussing creature into the bag harshly and slammed the top shut on it.

“I did not hallucinate. I know exactly what I saw--that thing is magic!”

Allen jumped. “It’s not magic! Really--it’s just a type of bug! From overseas, you know. So it makes sense that you’d never have heard about them!” The Prince didn’t look very readily convinced, leering at him through a heavily skeptical expression. At least until there was stirring from within the bag and the tiny thing poked its head out from one of the corners; it made a break from its prison almost immediately and zipped right back towards the Prince. “Tim, no--!”

“‘Tim’??” The blonde recoiled as much as he had the first time when the thing buried itself against his head, tucking its wings in around itself closely and almost seeming to huff even as the brunet made move to grab him again. He stopped only at the sound of Arthur’s voice.

“Ah...”

“I’ve never heard of any species of bug named after a person,” he replied coolly as the brunet hovered less than a foot away anxiously, trying to ignore the insistent tugging on his hair as the small golden ball of fluff tried to make itself comfortable. “Nor of anyone naming one as if it were a pet.”

“Look, Tim’s not dangerous or anything,” Allen replied quickly. “He’s just a...a pet. There’s nothing magic about him at all.”

“Then explain how he fixed his wing, and why doesn’t he have a face of any sort?” Arthur challenged, squinting slightly in annoyance as the tiny thing climbed its way up further on his head using tiny handfuls of hair. “And would you get it off me already??”

“--! Right, sorry,” Allen started in surprise. He hastily scooped the small bundle of feathers and fluff from the elder’s head and held him between clasped hands, looking just as perplexed as Arthur when he pawed wantonly at the brunet’s fingers to be let out.

“...What on earth is wrong with it?”

“I...don’t know, really. I have no idea what’s gotten into Tim, he’s really only ever been like this around my former master,” the brunet answered truthfully.

Unfortunately Arthur didn’t seem to share his surprised hesitation as he settled back irritably. “Just keep it away from me, understand? Who knows what sort of diseases that thing is carrying.”

“Timcanpy isn’t diseased Arthur,” Allen sighed. “He’s perfectly healthy... But I’ll keep him away from you.” Not that he really wanted Tim going any closer if he could help it. That had been far too close a call for his own liking. For once he actually found himself grateful for Arthur’s boorish pride as he hastily tucked the small creature back into his bag, this time pinning it shut with another rock so that even when it flapped and fluttered around inside it remained trapped.

It was one crisis averted at least, so with a sigh he began to gather up everything the yellow creature had knocked over. “...Hey! You didn’t eat any of your food!”

“What you prepared could hardly be called ‘food’, and for your information that flying rat of yours got into it before I could do anything with it anyway,” Arthur shot back stubbornly.

“He’s not a rat, Arthur. And there’s not much to eat out here so you should at least try to--” He paused again, groaning and smacking his forehead. “You haven’t bathed yet either?? What have you been doing all this time?”

“I hardly think that I’m capable of that sort of mobility at the present time!”

“But you were the one that said you were--ugh, forget it,” Allen facepalmed. Nothing was ever going to get done at this rate and it honestly didn’t seem like Arthur was about to swallow his pride anytime soon so with a heavy sigh he shifted back to the Prince’s side and gathered up the bucket and washcloth.

The Prince eyed him suspiciously. “...What are you doing?”

“I’m going to help you,” he sighed. “And not even try to argue with me. We both know you’ll never be able to do it yourself.”

“I am perfectly capable--” Arthur started, affronted as the brunet submerged the cloth into the cool, soapy water and wrung it out afterward. Unfortunately the rest of his protest was cut off as the frigid and damp material came into contact with his skin, making him shiver. “It’s ice cold...!”

“That’s because it came from the river, Arthur,” Allen sighed in exasperation as he grabbed the elder’s wrist and forced him to stay still as he ran it over his forearm. “Just bear with it would you? Or would you rather stay as you are?”

“I most certainly do not!”

“Good, then you won’t mind. Now just hold still before you tear yourself open again like last time.”

Arthur fixed him with an indignant look but miraculously said nothing further, but this he assumed was because of how cold the cloth was. Shivering probably didn’t make his wound feel too good and the blonde Prince was just too stubborn to let on that he was anything less than fighting fit. But that really suited Allen just fine since it made scrubbing down his arms and legs a great deal simpler. The only things Arthur was adamant about doing himself were his hair and torso and the brunet readily forfeited the cloth over to him.

Of course even when he was clean and Allen had at least helped him into some loose clothes that weren’t five days old (and that would be easy to dress the wound around) the older male still found things to complain about. The garments smelled funny, there was too much soap in the water, the water itself was too cold... The List went on and on and eventually Allen more or less just started to tune out most of what he said.

The ninth day after the Prince had been found proceeded mostly without incident. Tim escaped the bag again and had buried himself in the blonde’s hair once again, refusing to leave until his master detached him by force (much to Arthur’s chagrin since Tim had gotten a rather firm grip on his hair by that point). Arthur also refused to eat the fish prepared for him again, so in the end it was ultimately devoured by the tiny creature while Allen was forced to forfeit over what little slices of dried fruit he’d been keeping for himself to keep the moron from starving himself.

“Just so you know, that was the very last of it,” the brunet replied glumly and with a hint of annoyance as he watched the final piece of dried apple disappear. “I don’t have any more to feed you later.”

“You said that this morning, and yet somehow you managed to produce this,” the Prince replied off-handedly. “I’m quite sure you’ll manage to find something edible.”

“Not unless you like poisonous mushrooms, Arthur. Why won’t you just eat the fish? It’s the only real food this place has,” he sighed heavily.

“You can hardly call what you’ve prepared ‘food’.”

“What’s wrong with my cooking??”

“Have you seen the monstrosity you created? It’s burnt in all sorts of places and not even cooked through on others. How you haven’t poisoned yourself yet is beyond my understanding.”

“Somehow you don’t strike me as someone who knows a whole lot about cooking,” the brunet replied in a bored fashion, trying not to rise to the other’s jabs at his cooking. “And you really can’t afford to be picky anymore. I’m not sure why, but all of a sudden it seems like the animals in the forest are gone...”

Arthur said nothing but frowned slightly. So even he had noticed it then...curious. At least the youngest of the pair seemed eager to continue on his train of thought so there was no need for any input on his part. “I wonder if it’s because we’re here? I mean I know sometimes they get agitated if there’s going to be a storm or something but the weather’s been perfect for days now.” He sighed and leaned back on his hands. “Oh well. I’m sure Teidoll will be back soon with some supplies. I don’t know how to make any more of that medicine he gave me to treat you, so try not to agitate your injury too much anymore.”

“‘Anymore’? I only did that once, and if you’ll recall that was your fault for tying me up!” the Prince countered with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Which I still haven’t forgiven you for, you know. Just how are you going to make that up to me?”

“It was for your own good. I don’t need to apologize or make it up to you, Arthur,” Allen replied around a groan. “Just let it go okay?”

“I most certainly will not. I expect you to completely make it up to me before we depart for Camelot.” The sound of skin hitting skin sounded for the second time that day as Allen smacked his palm into his face and let out another faint sound of irritation. How Arthur seemed incapable of understanding “you’re too injured to move” was starting to become the most annoying mystery of his entire life, and really he was starting to lose interest in trying to solve it; it only ended in a headache on his part anyway.

Putting it out of mind would probably the least painful so in the end he decided to just go with that as he poked the fire with a stick and watched the embers burn slowly. Timcanpy had fluttered over to rest on his head after being swatted away from Arthur’s for the umpteenth time as evening arrived. It also probably had something to do with it being easier for him to weasel free food out of the grey-eyed teen since with Arthur rather adamant refusal to eat anything he’d prepared, there had been no second portion for him to have all to himself. In fact it seemed as though the Prince had drifted off some time ago so with the peace and quiet of the evening bared to him Allen allowed his mind to drift without any sort of real focus.

Arthur was improving vastly day by day, but that was only due to adequate rest and nutrition. He didn’t dare tell the Prince that prior to his awakening that he’d simply ground up flakes of the fish with water to make a very paste-y mush that he’d forced him to swallow by plugging his nose. He could just imagine what Arthur’s reaction to that would be, he thought as the corners of his lips tilted wryly. The blonde would probably never let him eat the end of it. Heck he’d probably accuse him of trying to poison him or something ridiculous like that.

He cast a glance over at the Prince’s still form and allowed another quiet sigh to escape him. Why was it so difficult for Arthur to accept the help of others, let alone try to trust them? As far as he could see he’d done nothing but extend a hand of generosity and kindness to him but Arthur just kept throwing it back into his face. It couldn’t be anything that he’d done wrong... Although he had just been stabbed in what looked like cold blood, so perhaps in some way it was understandable. It just should have been clear to him by then that he really meant no harm, and for as much as Tim clung to him and pulled on his hair, he didn’t either.

“Maybe he’s just had a sheltered life,” he muttered finally, huffing and looking back to the embers as he prodded the fire again. “Makes sense if he’s really a noble.” He definitely couldn’t picture Arthur as anything less than that with the way he spoke and carried himself.

“I told you, you idiot: I’m a Prince.”

Allen nearly jumped out of his skin at the rather bored-sounding voice that unexpectedly answered his words as he looked back hastily. Arthur still hadn’t moved in any way he could see, but his eyes were open now. “...I told you, don’t look at me like that,” the Prince leered. “You look like an idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot...! And weren’t you asleep just now anyway??”

“Do you think anyone could sleep peacefully here with you talking to yourself the way you are? Your voice is grating.”

Allen scowled. “Your attitude isn’t much better.”

“Watch your tongue,” the elder said flippantly as he moved to fold his arms behind his head carefully. “If you’re going to insist on making noise you could at least do something useful and tell me about yourself.”

“...What, now you want to know that sort of thing?? It would have made more sense if you’d asked that when you first woke up!” Allen recoiled.

Arthur just fixed him with a look. “I would have asked if I were interested at the time. And since I’m expressing that interest now the very least you could do is indulge me.”

The very least he could do was definitely less than that, Allen thought irritably as he let out an exasperated sound and turned to face the spoiled brat. “What do you want to know, Arthur? I already told you my name.”

“‘Allen’ hardly tells me anything. Why don’t you start with what you were doing in this forest to begin with? It’s supposed to be uninhabited by humans for the most part.”

“My friends and I were just passing through, same as you,” the brunet sighed. “We were on our way to see one of Teidoll’s old teachers.”

“What, not headed to some sort of performance? I thought that was your job,” Arthur replied with coy amusement that had the shorter of the pair huffing and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t do it all the time, alright? What were you doing out in the middle of the forest??”

“That’s hardly any of your business.”

Allen resisted the urge to smack himself in the face again. “You shouldn’t ask about other people if you don’t feel like sharing yourself...!”

“I never gave you any indication that I would be sharing with you,” the Prince shrugged. “That was something you assumed on your own, it’s not my fault.”

“Ugh...”

“Now, tell me about these ‘friends’ of yours. When is that physician fellow of yours coming back?”

“I told you, Teidoll’s not a physician. He’s an herbalist!” Allen corrected as he looked away and poked the fire with a sour expression. “The rest of my company were pretty much just escorts.”

“An herbalist, and actor and hired mercenaries is a bit of an odd combination.”

“So finding you all alone in the middle of the road wasn’t strange at all.”

Arthur frowned up at him. “What one earth are you talking about? I mostly certainly was not alone--my knights were with me and felled by the same traitor that tried to kill me.”

“Knights?” The youth blinked for several moments. “No, Arthur...it was just you lying there on the road. There wasn’t anyone else around for miles, I’m sure of it. We checked.”

“That is impossible,” the blonde stated bluntly. “I know for a fact that I brought a full company of ten men with me. I don’t know what Allan’s plan was, but surely he would not go to the trouble of trying to dispose of that many bodies!”

“Whose plan--??”

The Prince’s gaze narrowed and he ultimately just closed his eyes. “...Nothing. The point is, I was definitely not alone out in the woods. You must have missed them somehow. Considering your lack of intelligence I really wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Why do you always have to go and insult me like that??” Allen demanded in frustration. “I’m not stupid! Or a fool, or an idiot, or anything like that!”

“And yet you could not even find the bodies of ten dead men and their horses,” Arthur snorted. “Forgive me if I seem to have some reserves about your mental capacity, Allen.”

“The only one with a brain illness here is you,” the brunet muttered as he turned away from the fire fully to face the Prince. “There were no men, no horses, nothing where we found you. I know that for a face--we looked for survivors when we found you. There was some signs of struggle yeah, but the only body anywhere in the area was yours,” he replied matter-of-factly. “There’s no way what you’re saying can be true.”

“I know what happened,” Arthur said firmly. “I could never forget.”

“Listen, you were seriously wounded that night. I don’t know what happened but you were delirious the first few times you woke up--maybe you just...”

“Just what?” the Prince cut in with narrowed eyes. “Imagined it? I think not. You simply did not look hard enough, that is all.”

The gray-eyed youth didn’t bother trying to refute him for a third time and just let out a slow breath. He was positive there had been no one else on that road. If there were any signs of a struggle it had been too dark to see them, and he hadn’t chanced leaving the Prince on his own for extended periods of time since he’d woken. And after nine days... He doubted there would be any evidence left there after that much time. Someone would have either found it or taken what goods they could for themselves. Either way there was no way to verify Arthur’s story so with a faint sigh he prodded the fire a few more times before standing.

“You should get some rest. I’ll put out the fire soon.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t feel like sleeping any longer.”

Ah, so he had been asleep earlier. Allen paused but nodded eventually as he went to sit down in his makeshift bed of a couple of blankets thrown on top of each other. It was plain to see that Arthur had been given most of them but that part didn’t really bother him as much as his attitude in general. He lay back with a faint sound and flopped onto his back, watching in amusement as Tim hopped off and flapped his way down to comfortably rest on his chest. The faintest of smiles cracked his pensive expression as he brought one hand up and lightly tapped it against the tiny rounded creature’s head so that it’s wings ruffled with a twitch. He had to hold back a laugh at that.

“Something amusing?”

He looked up at the sound of Arthur’s voice with a blink, for a second worried he might have assumed his sound of amusement was at his expense. “Oh, no. It’s nothing...just Tim, that’s all.” He pat the small yellow creature atop its head gently. “I wasn’t laughing at you or anything.”

“I wasn’t worried about that, idiot.” Allen tried not to look to the side evasively at the annoyed sound in Arthur’s voice.

“Alright...” He really doubted that though. Arthur took offense to everything under the sun after all, and he honestly doubted this was any sort of exception. “...Was there anything else you wanted to know?” he asked finally, glancing over at the still blonde to watch for any signs of irritation. Hopefully this would distract him before his stubborn-as-a-mule attitude won over.

Hopefully. It still took several long moments before the blonde would address him, and even then Allen could swear he was feigning disinterest. “Well since you seem to be in such a generous mood, what about that scar of yours?”

“Scar??”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “The one on your face, obviously! What other scar could there be?? Honestly, how can you be so dense?”

“I’m not dense!” Ugh, it felt like he was on repeat. Allen unconsciously brought one hand up to rub the side of his head where the reddish mark stretched along cheek and temple, cutting vertically across his left eye. “And it’s just something I got when I was young. There’s nothing magical behind it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The Prince snorted, the sound derisive. “Trust me, I have no doubts in my mind that even if you put your utmost effort into it you could not become a sorcerer. You simply do not possess the brain power or talent needed.”

And for a moment Allen wasn’t sure whether to feel annoyed or grateful that Arthur thought so little of him. Sure he wasn’t about to get burnt at the stake or anything but it was really, really irritating. He couldn’t even count it as a small victory when the smarmy jerk sounded so sure about it; like his word was law or something. “I’m going to bed,” he finally announced curtly as he brushed Timcanpy off his chest and moved to put out the fire. He could feel Arthur’s gaze on him as he dumped a bucket of gathered water over the embers but pointedly chose to ignore his entire existence until he was back in his makeshift bed. And even then he turned his back to the Prince and rolled over.

When Arthur woke up the next morning the first thing he noticed was how strangely quiet it was. Normally the sounds of the younger male going about his morning business and tending to the camp greeted him, but as he slowly opened his eyes and looked around he could find neither hide nor hair of the boy. The area where he’d been the night before was completely empty; even the blankets had disappeared, the only sign that they had ever been there the indent on the moss below.

A frown creased his forehead as he turned his attention to the rest of the camp. The fire pit gave off no smoke at all so he could only guess that it hadn’t been used since the night before, no spare clothes were hung up around the camp and there wasn’t even any signs that a meal had been consumed. And when he saw that Allen’s bag was missing in addition to everything else he felt his skin prickle with a feeling caught between insult and anxiety.

He’d left him.

The damned brunet had left in the middle of the night while he’d slept and abandoned him. The only things he seemed to have left was a bucket of water and some leftovers from the night before. It looked even more appealing than it did so he turned his nose away from it and lay back flat on his bed, closing his eyes. This was no time to panic...he just needed to think logically and find a solution. From the looks of things he definitely had enough water to last a few days. Food perhaps not, but that wasn’t his main concern. A hand felt gingerly over the area where he’d been wounded and he made a slight face. It was still quite tender then; moving would be either impossible or very painful and since he still had no idea where he was...

The Prince held back a curse as he cracked open one eye to stare up into the mess of branches that hovered above him like a blanket, shielding him from the direct rays of sunlight. It looked to be another day of perfect and fair weather but that did very little to give him any optimism. This sort of situation was not looking food at all. Had Allen really left because of him? He’d only been speaking what he’d felt to be the truth. In his eyes the boy was far too incompetent to amount to very much but he’d never expected this from him. For all his failings not once had he ever thought Allen capable of something like leaving a wounded person for dead in the forest.

Whatever doubts had started to grow in the pit of his stomach were hastily stomped flat as his gaze hardened. There was no reason to begin panicking. This simply proved that the boy had never had any honest intentions from the start and that he’d be been to distrust him. He’d probably only done it for a reward but when he found out that he’d likely receive nothing he’d simply departed. Insult made him bristle and clench his jaw, hands tightening into fists as his sides.

He’d just have to make do however he could. He was Prince Arthur, heir to the throne of Camelot and while he lay there stewing there was no telling what Allan would be doing back in his beloved city. No matter what happened to he himself he needed to do whatever he could to make it back there. He had no time to waste, so as he steeled himself for the onslaught of pain he knew was sure to follow he pushed one hand into the ground for leverage so that he could try to roll onto his side.

A shocked gasp escaped him almost as soon as he tried when what felt like liquid fire seared away at his nerves, chilling him outwardly and making him shudder. It felt like he was being stabbed all over again! It was enough to almost make him hyperventilate; only his extreme sense of pride and duty kept him from simply rolling onto his back and giving up, and slowly he got both hands on the ground in front of him so he could attempt to push himself into a kneeling position.

The agony of it all almost made his arms give out beneath him. If he hadn’t deadlocked them in place he was sure he would have fallen flat on his face, but even then the pain was so blinding it made his vision sway and tilt off to one side. He refused to give up though, and even as raspy grunts and half-muffled sounds of anguish stung at his abdomen like hot knives he forced himself upright.

He almost wanted to sob with how much pain rippled through him as such a simple act. But the only thing he allowed to show on his face was a tense, stony expression as he looked down at his stomach for any signs of blood seeping through. Thankfully there was none, but he had no idea how long that would last so with a cringe he pulled back down his shirt and shakily reached for the bucket of water. How he ever managed to wash his face and fill his stomach with the cool substance was beyond him, but by the end of it he was already exhausted to the point of collapse.

Giving up now was not an option in his mind. No matter how much it hurt or how tired he was, there was nothing that could keep him from getting back to Camelot. Even if he had to leave his armor and sword behind and walk with the bare minimum of supplies.

Gritting his teeth Arthur forced one leg from beneath him and put it forward, very slowly and carefully attempting to stand. Suddenly trying to roll onto his side paled in comparison to this new agony, and he wasn’t sure he hadn’t let out a gasp of pain somewhere as he finally got both feet beneath him...only to stumble slightly. Luckily he didn’t upend himself or anything but it was probably the worst sensation he’d ever felt in his entire life. It felt like his whole stomach was on fire, burning away at his insides and tearing his nerve ending apart. He’d never wanted to lie down more in his entire life, but despite everything all he did was wrap one arm about his midsection and force one foot forward. Then the other, until he was slowly but surely making his way towards the end of the camp.

His vision pitched and swam dangerously before him as if he’d lost all sense of equilibrium in his body. The only sounds he could hear were that of his own labored breathing and that of his pulse, the noise of his shuffling feet and the rustle leaves above drowned out almost entirely. Over and over he repeated to himself, move...move...move...! He couldn’t succumb to weakness here, he just had to keep pressing on no matter what...

Tunnel vision on his one goal made him oblivious to the soft rustle that came from the bushes and underbrush from above where the almost trench-like path seemed to have been dug from. An almost snakelike hiss whispered softly as almond-shaped irises the color of peridot watched the Prince struggle down the path, and when the young male was forced to stop for a brief moment and lean against a larger boulder they slowly crept closer, moving around to flank him.

Appendages in the shape of human hands slowly lowered themselves on the top of the boulder, and although they seemed to resemble hands as soon as they passed into the sunlight blackened, rippling skin that looked like a series of ribbons made of snakeskin banded together was revealed. Tendrils of it fell about the creature’s body like the branches of an oak tree, each of them slithering onto the hard surface slowly like a serpent. As it neared the wounded Prince it’s yellow eyes became brighter with hunger and it let out another slow hiss.

And this time Arthur heard it. With a jolt that was minute in nature the blonde slowly craned his neck back to try and find the source--and nearly upended himself as the very moment he chose to do so the beast let out a high-pitched shriek that in an odd way seemed almost feminine in nature and launched itself at him tendrils-first, followed closely by the rest of its unstable body.

Years of combat training was the only thing that saved Arthur’s life as he found himself shoving himself from the path of the beast before he could rightly try to do it in his conscious mind. It missed him by bare inches and hit the ground, dissolving into a mass of snakelike ribbons before it reformed its body and began stalking towards him again slowly, almost if it were a human dragging itself out of water.

But this thing was certainly not human in Arthur’s mind and despite whatever protests his body made he continued to stumble backward away from it, ignoring the searing pain that went through him at every shaky motion. There was no way he would be able to escape from this thing he was sure, but if he could just make it back to the camp, his sword--

A stuttered sound of surprise, followed by one of pain escaped the Prince as the back of his heel connected with a smaller rock and sent him falling into a much larger one. The impact of his back hitting it was enough to blind him temporarily as he let out a choked gasp. The urge to vomit overcame him as he slid slowly to the ground and stared wide-eyed before him. Everything blurred before him and hot tears leaked down his face out of sheer human reflex as the creature came to a halt several feet from him. It seemed to be sizing up its newest meal for a few moments, ribbons of skin rippling with excitement. He could tell what was going to happen even before its “heckles” raised and lifted one arm toward him.

The limb itself extended even as ribbons fell around it, wriggling with excitement at the prospect of a new meal, but not once did Arthur shut his eyes. Wounded and with no chance of escape, he was still a warrior above all else and he would not face his death with cowardice; he kept blue orbs open even as his heart thundered in his chest.

“Arthur--!!”

His name didn’t even register in his mind until several moments after the fact; he was far too busy staring at the sudden form that had rushed in front of him and appeared like some sort of apparition. Lanky but firm in stance, messy chestnut-colored hair going off in every direction... Arthur couldn’t even utter the youth’s name as he brought his left arm up to block at attack meant to end his life and braced himself for impact. The sound of the creature wailing in anger was almost distant to the Prince’s ears as he watched Allen swing his arm out to side and throw off the ribbons, and within the next instant he was suddenly rushing the beast.

A protest to stop, to run away while he still could was muted by pain and Arthur was forced to watch as the youth swung his arm into the mess of tendrils and serpentine appendages. It was a strange fighting style he’d never once seen in all his years of training; the brunet seemed to be using his own arm like some sort of...of blade or something, hand held flat as he shoved it forward. He wanted to yell at Allen and tell him he was only going to get himself killed, but he found his eyes widening slowly as he saw one of the creature’s arms suddenly go flying, completely detached. It landed with a wet and sickening thud as it hit the ground, and for several moments it writhed around.

By the time Arthur had turned his attention back to the fight Allen had somehow already cut off a series of ribbons from the creature and they littered the narrow pass. Shrieks and wails of fury escaped the creature as it recoiled into a mass of churning and writhing ribbons. Twin orbs of yellow blazed at them from within before shooting out at them. A face that was almost humanoid in nature opened up to let out another screech as it sent ribbons and tendrils slicing through the air with its remaining arm in a manner that even caught Allen off guard.

He brought his arm up to defend again the beast seemed to have accounted for that fact and brought the rest of itself up under his guard to impact his chest hard as it clawed and tore at him with a ferocity that made Arthur’s blood run cold. There was no way he would survive that sort of attack--he was sure of it. The brunet could try to hold on as long as he wanted, but in the end the creature was able to toss him to the side with a loud hiss. His body slumped to the ground unmoving.

“You f...fool...” Arthur choked out weakly. It trained the monster’s attention on him yet again, but he couldn’t find the strength to care anymore as he slowly turned his gaze upwards to meet the searing peridot eyes of the predator. With its competition gone it returned back to its slinking, coiled movements from before as it slowly stalked over to him. It was mere inches away when it stopped, and as in took a whiff of his scent he could have sworn that it smiled maliciously.

The scent of blood and rotted flesh was so thick on its breath that it made Arthur want to vomit, and when it pulled back slightly he knew that this would undoubtedly be the end. It was simply preparing to fell him with a final strike to his neck and then it would devour him whole.

Or at least it would have, if it hadn’t suddenly froze in place. Its gaze seemed to roll past the Prince as its jaw slackened, tension draining from its body. A small trickle of dark red fluid rolled down its face from its forehead, and Arthur watched numbly as the red, straightened hand sticking through the creature’s head was removed sharply. It fell to the side and crumpled to the ground instantly, and with disbelief he stared up at Allen. A cut to his temple bled over one eye and he had blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but he was smiling through fatigue regardless.

“A...Allen...” It was the last thing the Prince managed out before black overcame the edges of his vision and drowned his senses.

Having them stay that way would have been a small mercy for the pain the assaulted him as soon as his consciousness started to surface. If at all possible he felt even worse than he had when he’d first woken; his abdomen throbbed painfully and the whole area felt stiff. When he tried to turn his head to the side he found that now hurt as well. Flashes of what caused it made his body feel cold but he snapped his eyes open when a sudden cold touch to his forehead made him jump in surprise.

“A-ah...you’re awake?” What shock (and anxiety) had been in his expression drained slowly at the familiar sight of the grey-eyed teen. Relief filled his entire face as he gently applied the cool cloth to Arthur’s forehead again, and Arthur dimly took notice of the thin, scabbed line of blood that ran over one eye. The wound from earlier... “I was starting to worry.”

“What...”

“Don’t try to speak,” Allen coaxed as soon as the Prince tried to make his mouth form the words. “You hit your head pretty hard and probably exhausted what little strength you had earlier.”

A pensive look crossed the blonde’s face as he recalled struggling to his feet, the feeling of trying to run when he knew it impossible. He’d come so close to dying... “It’s okay,” Allen interrupted him again. “The beast’s gone. I took care of it so you should just focus on resting for now.”

“Where...were you?” Was that really his voice? It sounded far too weak and exhausted!

Allen mirrored his surprise for a different reason but that quickly melted into something a great deal more apologetic. “...I’m sorry. I should have been here looking after you. I went to clean some of the older blankets and supplies. There was never anything in the forest before so I thought you’d be okay for an hour or so, but...” His lips hardened into a faint line.

If he was worried about Arthur blaming him for the entire incident then he was way off base as the blonde Prince stared at him with incomprehension for several moments. Allen...had not decided to abandon him? He hadn’t left because he’d become fed up with him? He’d only gone to wash his own bedding for a short while. For a moment Arthur didn’t know if he felt relieved or like an idiot as he let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes. “...You idiot...” he murmured under his breath. “This wasn’t your fault at all.”

“...Eh??” It was certainly the last thing he’d ever expected Arthur to say, that was for sure.

“It was not your fault,” the blonde repeated tiredly. “Had you not come when you did I’m sure I would not be here now, so...” He paused there for a moment as his pride gnawed at him, but ultimately his sense of duty overcame that and he finished. “...Thank you.”

He didn’t even have to open his eyes to know how shocked the brunet would be, and truthfully that was the main reason he kept them shut. It was hard enough say it in the first place let alone watch the idiot get all shell-shocked. Eventually there was a muffled laugh though, and the shifting of clothes as the teen made himself comfortable at the Prince’s side.

“You’re welcome, Arthur.”