Chapter Text
Stephen
As far as his evenings went, this one was quite peculiar. Stephen Strange, a graduate of the Royal College of Physicians with honors, now a doctor at St. Thomas’ Hospital, had just finished his shift at the hospital and was on his way home. Upon arriving in his humble room in the inn he was staying in, he noticed there was a letter on the floor. He picked it up to inspect it and found a red seal on it with the insignia of the royal family. Now thoroughly intrigued, he opened the letter and quickly scanned it growing more alarmed by the second. It was addressed to him from the palace, specifically from one Dr. Swinton, his old mentor at the Royal College who has been Physician to the King for the past decade. He read it about three times before the words started to register fully.
“My Dear Stephen,
How fared you in the two months since our last correspondence? I should hope you have been giving Dr. Mordo a right headache! That man is far too serious for his own good!
How have you been dealing with the recent fever cases? I trust you’ve found the connection between the cases? I will not say much for you are a smart lad and have probably deduced it already.
I haven’t been feeling quite like myself lately and I fear my illness has progressed far too greatly for me to keep pretending like I can keep practicing my profession, which brings me to my purpose in writing to you: I have been tasked with choosing my successor as a Royal Physician by his majesty the King Regent. I was asked to give a list of possible candidates for the council to interview and choose who they deem suitable. I am asking you in fervor to accept being my top candidate.
The truth is , my dear boy, I don’t trust anyone else but you to take this responsibility. The Crown Prince will need an ally in the palace for his are few, and the tides are turning soon.
My sincerest affections,
T. Swinton.”
Stephen’s mind was reeling with the implications of the letter. Once he calmed himself down a bit, he sat on the wooden chair in front of the fireplace and dissected the information in his mind.
Dr. Swinton’s days were numbered, that much was clear, and it was the most painful thing to accept. As a doctor, he understood how terminal illness rots one’s body until there’s nothing left. But as a former apprentice, and a something of a son, to the older man, he refused to believe there would be a time where the old man wouldn’t be there to guide him. He had been a blessing to Stephen when he was but a young, arrogant student who thought his superior intellect meant everyone else was beneath him. Safe to say the good Doctor put him in his place quickly. Stephen was annoyed at the man at first but soon after he was grateful for the man’s presence and guiding hand. He jokingly referred to him occasionally as ‘The Ancient One’, a title he took with great pride.
The second thing he noticed were the last lines, “The Crown Prince will need an ally in the palace for his are few, and the tides are turning soon.” That was a peculiar thing to include in a letter essentially made to be a job offer. Why would the infamous Crown Prince need Stephen’s support? What tides are going to turn? It was all very puzzling and Stephen was nothing if not curious, and he vowed to himself and to his Dr. Swinton that he would get to the bottom of this.
Being told you were the top candidate to be the king Regent’s new physician was one thing, actually passing the interview with flying colors and being told to pack your bags and move into the palace was another thing altogether. Stephen never imagined something like this happening to him when he pursued medicine ten years ago. He thought he would work in a local hospital or even opening a clinic, but not this.
Nevertheless, this was a great privilege and an opportunity to investigate the contents of the letter and to prove himself to the throngs of people who doubted him. Not that he cared about them, mind you. He learned from a young age to tune out the underhanded comments and the sneers that were covered in a smirk. He never had it easy and had to work himself to the bone to get where he was, but he preferred it this way. He’d rather break himself pursuing his passion than to be handed things and develop a complacency.
As he was unpacking his bags, he mused about how his life was about to shift even more dramatically. Not only is he to be the King Regent’s physician, but he is to be the chief physician to the entire royal family and important court members. That’s bound to be interesting. He is not naïve, he knows there will be individuals that will try to manipulate him for sensitive information but he is a doctor that swore an oath first, and a man of honor second, and he won’t be played like a fiddle or be a pawn in their little games. He idly wondered what plots he would be swept into unwittingly and chuckled to himself. What is he getting himself into…
Not three days into his duties at the royal medical wing, and the strangest thing happens. He was treating one of the kitchen girls after an accident including a giant pot of broth and a frankly obscene amount of butter resulted in a second degree burn on her left arm. He was just finishing up wrapping her arm when a young man came bursting into the infirmary. He was limping and leaning his weight heavily into his left side. After a clinical sweep of his entire form, Stephen gleaned enough information and summarized this man has been in a fight recently. The stranger continued his approach until he stopped and leaned his elbows on the working table and gave the two room residents a wide confident smile. Someone who was used to working a crowd then. Interesting. The kitchen girl had her back to him so the smile was focused on Stephen in full effect and if he was a lesser man he would’ve melted under it. But he wasn’t therefore he didn’t.
Stephen raised his eyebrow at the man who was still smiling in that ‘would’ve been charming’ way and he actually widened his smile, if that was even possible, and gave Stephen a full sweep before pinning him with a gaze.
“Hello there, darling.” He purred, “You’re new here aren’t you?”
The kitchen girl choked on air and turned to the stranger, almost flinging Stephen’s hands away in her haste. His grip tightened on her arm and he gave the stranger a glare.
“Your highness!” She exclaimed.
Ah. That settles it then.
“Me!” the Crown Prince replied enthusiastically. She tried to get up but Stephen’s firm grip rooted her to her place. She turned to him with panicked eyes, her already pain-filled face was pale and sweaty. Servants aren’t supposed to be treated by the royal physician but he was already in the kitchen looking for some herbs when the incident happened. He wasn’t about to let her take the fall for him and get punished on top of being burned this badly! He turned to the prince and was surprised to find, instead of an angry or affronted look, a dimmed smile with a sad tinge to it. He was about to defend the girl when the prince interrupted him by yawning and straightening up.
“Right, since you’re busy at the moment, I’ll be making myself comfortable on this cot right here until you call for me, doctor, is that alright with you” he gave Stephen a pointed look and Stephen gladly took the hint and nodded, redirecting the girl’s attention to himself.
After finishing up her treatment and sending her with words of advice and some salve, making her promise to seek him out if she or any other friend had another injury, he turned to the prince currently lounging on the cot with his eyes closed and his right hand massaging his leg. Stephen cleared his throat and the prince cracked open an eye and looked at Stephen,
“Is it my turn now, good doctor?” he had both eyes open now, and gave Stephen a slight smirk. Stephen was not above rolling his eyes and pulled a chair to sit next to the cot. The prince sat up and Stephen proceeded to quickly and wordlessly examine the prince by prodding along his right leg until he found the problem. He asked for permission to lift the pant legs up to reveal skin by tilting his head and pinching the fabric and pulling it up with a raised eyebrow. The prince nodded amusedly and Stephen turned his attention back to the leg. He made quick work of the pant leg and promptly revealed a swath of bruised skin and a long vertical not-quite-deep gash. He frowned as he touched the taut skin around it, this was at least two days old as it was already starting to heal. As he was touching various bruises he mused about what kind of person would injure the prince like this. This was obviously not caused by a regular sparring match and there was no war or battle occurring this past week to cause something like this. If a royal was injured in an accident he would be informed and called to treat them immediately, so this was not the case either. Stephen was greatly intrigued now but he wouldn’t give the prince the satisfaction of appearing eager. One mustn’t appear overexcited it was unprofessional and uncomely at that. With a sigh he covered the leg and leaned back, folding his hands on his lap and giving the prince his full attention.
“Alright your highness,” Stephen started, “the cut isn’t infected and has already started to heal nicely. I expect you’ve been taking care of it?” at the prince’s nod Stephen continued, “Very well, I’m going to give you two salves, one for the bruises and one for the cut. I’ll apply them right now if you’ll allow me?”
“Do whatever pleases you, darling.” The prince answered with a wink. Stephen gave him an unimpressed look and went to get the jars of salve he needed. When he came back he found the price had already pulled the pant leg up and was picking at a scab at the edge of the cut. Stephen stopped next to him and smacked his hand away from the wound without hesitation. Prince or not, he was NOT going to allow such childish behavior to ruin his work before it had started! The prince looked up instantly, face slack with surprise. The surprise quickly melted into a delighted expression. What, did he like being reprimanded? Well, someone didn’t have a healthy childhood.
Stephen sat down without prodding that can of worms and promptly started explaining the salves and their properties to an attentive prince and applied them as gently as he could, not wanting to upset the delicate healing process. When he finished, he wrapped the injuries and pulled the pant leg down over them. He resigned himself to ask the question he’s been itching to ask, propriety be damned! He was a doctor first and his professional curiosity would take over him whether he liked it or not. Squaring his shoulders, he busied himself with collecting the jars and preparing them as he broached the subject.
“What caused you such an injury, if you don’t mind me asking, your highness?” The prince chuckled and raised his eyebrows at Stephen.
“Took you long enough.” He replied, “I spend a lot of time in my workshop with various machines and you know, accidents happen…” he gestured vaguely with his hand and grinned obnoxiously. Stephen tilted his head and gave him a calculated look. He couldn’t have been more clearly lying. It was clear as day that the injury was caused by some sort of fight but the prince was lying about it, and lying badly at that. Was he taking Stephen for a fool? Did he think a doctor as experienced as Stephen wouldn’t have noticed the obvious signs? As he was about to retort with something in poor taste a thought occurred to him; what if this was a test? What if this was the prince’s way of trying to figure out if he can trust Stephen. Stephen considered his options and decided that he didn’t want to antagonize the prince as he seemed genuinely of the good sort. Dr. Swinton’s letter came back to the forefront of his mind and again he wondered what the Crown Prince got into to require the old doctor to bring Stephen of all people into it. With his mind made up he snorted and directed a pointed look at the prince.
“Well, if that’s the case then you must be careful with those machines of yours. We wouldn’t want them to cause you more injuries now would we?” the prince grinned mischievously and gave a mock bow,
“Your word is my command, my dear doctor.” The prince proceeded to carefully hop off the cot and limp to the door. Just before leaving he turned to the doctor and the flirtatious smile made a return.
“Oh and no need for all that ‘your highness’ business. You can call me Anthony.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind, your highness, but you know I’m such a busy man and sometimes things just slip my mind.” Stephen countered with an easy smirk that the prince answered with a grin,
“Oh of course! My apologies, dear doctor.”
“No need for that, your highness.” He shook his head, “And my name is Stephen.”
“I know.” Prince Anthony replied with an upward tilt to his lips before mock bowing, turning and walking out of the door, leaving Stephen’s mind reeling.
“What on earth just happened?” he wondered to himself and had a feeling this question is going to become a common occurrence...