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The funny thing about sharing a floating island with dozens of other people is that you can’t scream without attracting attention.
If Alfred had just been back home, surrounded by acres of flower gardens, maybe he could have stumbled away from the castle and given off a loud scream to the uncaring world and feel a little better. It wouldn’t fix everything, of course it wouldn’t, but it would help.
As it was, he was curled up in his bed trembling, clenching his teeth so that he wouldn’t give off a sound. No one could know that he was having an attack. Not Céline, not his retainers, and definitely not the Divine Dragon. He couldn’t let anyone see that he was just a weak Prince unfit to fight, who could collapse any day.
No. He would not scream. He will simply stay here until the attack passed and then he would go to his training and train harder to make sure this never happened again and nobody would have to know just how pathetic he was.
The door opened and Alfred froze.
His room was shared with Clanne, Alfred having been one of the first of the army to move to the Somniel, but Clanne should be off doing steward stuff right now. It was the only reason why he had been able to slunk back into bed as he felt the tightness in his chest worsen in the morning air.
“Huh,” Clanne said. “Usually he’s awake by now.”
Alfred couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t risk giving off a whine let alone a scream, Clanne couldn’t know just how messed up he was. Alfred just had to stay silent, stay still, until Clanne left.
“I wonder if he’s sick.”
His blood ran cold. Clanne couldn’t know. If Clanne knew all this time about Alfred’s chronic illness then all this time the boy had probably been looking at him in pity, waiting for him to drop. A spasm rocked through Alfred’s chest and he jolted, tears rolling down his face.
“Prince Alfred?”
Footsteps came closer to Alfred’s bed but he forced himself to remain still, glad that the blanket had already been covering his head. Clanne hovered next to him for a long moment, no doubt disgusted by how pathetic he was. The boy moved back and Alfred’s head spun, his lungs starved of oxygen.
The door clicked closed and Alfred let off the smallest of whines, tears falling ever harder. The pain was worse now, hot lava pulsing through his veins as his chest tightened and his stomach flipped. He had thought that he had gotten used to this feeling, spending most of his childhood in his sick bed, but after such a long time since a significant attack it was like he was five years old again, clutching onto his mother as pain rocked through him.
Medicine didn’t work, not enough to be worth taking any at least, so Queen Éve would just hold him until the pain subsided, humming Firene songs that in the haze of pain he would barely recognise. Céline thinks she knows how bad it had gotten but she was only a child back then and Alfred had tried so damn hard not to let her see.
She had seen some of it, a fact that Alfred loathed himself for, but there had only been so much he could do to hide it. The attacks would often happen suddenly; one moment he would be playing in the garden with Céline and the next he would be on his knees, screaming as he clawed at his chest. Sometimes he had at least some warning that he was ill, just enough time to come up with some excuse as to why Boucheron and Etie could go to the dining hall without him so that his retainers would not have to see him collapse from the sheer pain.
They didn’t often follow his instructions, always close by to him no matter what he told them to do, and Alfred had lost count of the amount of times Boucheron would have to carry him to bed, clutching onto Buocheron’s shirt if only to keep himself from throwing up.
Even after Alfred would recover, his retainers and sister would constantly be glancing at him, waiting for him to collapse again, and Alfred hated every moment of it. They shouldn’t have to worry about him, they should be able to trust that he was fine and most of all they shouldn’t have to waste their time tending to him.
The pain spiked and Alfred trembled, unable to hold back a moan.
It should have passed by now, he should have been better by now. Yet the pain was only growing and Alfred gave off a silent scream, tears falling ever harder as his entire being hurt. Maybe this was the end after all. Maybe he was never to help the Divine Dragon save the world from Sombron, maybe he was never to inherit the crown to Firene. Maybe all he ever was was this unending pain.
Alfred heard a distant sound but he ignored it, too absorbed in his own misery to really register it. That is at least until something touched his shoulder and Alfred really did scream.
Hands grabbed at him now, clawing at his skin, holding him down as Alfred let off another ungodly sound, the fires in his veins tearing him apart.
“Alfred, it’s okay, you’re okay… Clanne! Find Jean, now! Alfred, just breathe…”
He knew that voice but if anything it only made him thrash harder. The Divine Dragon couldn’t see him like this, nobody could see him like this. Alear would loath him, would pity him, would never look at him the same way again. Alfred should stop screaming, he should stop bringing so much attention to himself but the pain wasn’t just pain anymore, it was pure agony.
Alfred tried to apologise to Alear, to tell him that he should just go, but no words passed his lips and his body only shook harder as Alear held him tightly. Nausea rose up and all of a sudden Alfred was on the edge of the bed throwing up, Alear keeping him from tipping over fully.
“It’s okay.” Alear mumbled, rubbing circles into his back.
“No.” Alfred moaned. “Go away…”
“I’m not leaving you.” Alear snapped back. Then, more softly. “You mean too much. Just try to breathe, okay? Help is coming.”
The idea of more people seeing him like this just made everything feel worse. He was the Crown Prince of Fierene, he shouldn’t be writhing in his bed for the whole world to see. No, he had to get over this stupid illness before anyone else could come. He did not need help, he needed to be better.
But there was no cure for this, if there was they would have found it already. The pain was just going to keep coming back until he wasted away and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it. The only thing that had been able to lessen the severity and the frequency of these episodes was the physical training he had been consumed by for years yet even that did not prevent his illness for raising its ugly head.
He had been a fool to believe he could be worth something to the army.
“Alfred?” Alear’s voice wavered.
The world was fading away now, Alear’s hands feeling strangely distant despite still being on him. Alfred had been stupid to think he could ever amount to anything more than a fragile Prince who couldn’t manage a little bit of pain. Worst of all, he had been stupid to think that Alear liked him for him and not out of some form of pity for the sick guy yet here Alear was, having to keep him from falling into his own vomit.
The darkness was looming ever closer now and he knew he should force it back but Alfred was tired, too tired to fight against it, too tired to twist around and see Alear’s multicoloured eyes regarding him with disgust, too tired to recognise the three figures that were running towards him, too tired for any of it.
Maybe it was time to let go. He had been fighting all his life against the pain and yet it always came back so maybe he should just give up. The others would be better off without him. Céline could inherit like she always knew she would and Alear would be able to find someone better to act as his right hand. Alfred had done nothing but hold them back for months, so focused on training that did not do anything to make his body stronger.
It was time to let go.
Let go.
It was easy. Just let go. Stop caring, stop fighting, let go.
Let go.
Alfred couldn’t. He could feel Alear right next to him, he could hear Céline’s voice begging him to hold on, begging him to be okay, he could hear the young Jean give the others instructions, could distantly feel a wet cloth wipe the sweat from his brow. He could feel all of it yet most of all he could feel that it wasn’t over yet.
It couldn’t be over yet.
He was Alfred, Crown Prince of Fierene, proud son of Queen Éve and loving brother of Princess Céline and he was not done. He was Alfred, soldier of the cause against Sombron, friend and ally to the Divine Dragon and he was not done. He was Alfred, the holder of the Bracelet of the Three Houses and companion to Edelgard, Dimitri and Claude and by their strength he was not done.
He was Alfred and
He.
Was.
Not.
Done.
Alfred forced his aching muscles to move, forced himself to sit up even as pain ripped through him, forced himself to meet the Divine Dragon’s eyes and when he spoke he forced his voice to be steady.
“I’m not done.”
“Alfred, you’re so pale, are you o-“
Darkness.
———————————————————————————————————————————
Alear hadn’t dared to leave Alfred’s bedside in the three days since he fell ill. Sombron could have taken over the whole world for all Alear cared and it would not give him enough cause to step away from his friend for even a moment.
He knew that he could trust the others to watch over Alfred, Vander had watched over him for decades after all, but he simply could not bring himself to move. Not while Alfred was still shaking, his fever rising ever higher. Céline said that fever was normal in Alfred’s attacks but that did not make Alear worry any less, especially when she admitted that he wasn’t usually sick for so long.
Worst of all of it was the fact that Alear had never known that Alfred was sick at all. What kind of ally was he, what kind of friend was he, if he had never once considered that Alfred could be chronically ill. He had always seemed so strong. Sure, he didn’t have muscles like Boucheron but nobody trained as hard as Alfred and certainly no one had a heart of gold like Alfred. He put his entire soul into every single thing he ever did and he had done all of it while his body had been failing.
Céline had told Alear what she knew of Alfred’s illness, tears rolling down her face. Her Mother and Brother had tried to save her from the worst of it but she knew full well that there was no cure for Alfred. No medicine, no magic, could save him.
Not even the Divine Dragon could save him.
Alear had wanted to scream then. What use was almighty lineage if he couldn’t even save Alfred from his own failing health? Alear did not scream though nor did he cry. He listened carefully to Céline, he held her as she sobbed, and he asked Clanne to take her to her shared room with Framme so that she might get some rest.
Céline needed care and attention as much as Alfred did but Alear could not give her that care, not when Alfred was still trembling even in his unconsciousness.
The days had passed agonisingly slowly. Some of the others visited, those companions who hailed from Firene especially. Etie liked to stand guard outside of the room and Boucheron kept close by just in case there was something he could do to help. Jean tried a few different medicinal herbs despite Céline’s insistence that nothing would work and Alear stayed by Alfred’s side through all of it, thanking Jean for trying his best.
Alear knew that Vander was worried about him, as a Steward to the Divine Dragon it was his duty to prioritise Alear over all others, but Alear assured him that if Alfred could spend endless hours praying by Alear’s bedside for all those years, Alear could spend a few days by Alfred’s side.
The other royals visited too but never for too long as if they knew that Alfred had enough people tending to him. Alcryst had come in apologising, having accidentally snapped all the stems of the flowers he had picked for Alfred before he had managed to get to the room, while Diamant had hovered in the doorway unsure on wether or not Alfred would want to see him while he was ill.
Ivy had only visited once while Hortensia liked to barge in unannounced, talking loudly to Alfred as if he could hear her before she would eventually leave just as suddenly, the room strangely empty without her.
Others still visited also. There was not a single resident of the Somniel that did not want to give their well wishes to the Prince of Firene. He had helped them all so much, wether it be through personalised training regimes or simply someone to talk to, Alfred had become so well liked by the entire army that it was never just Alear watching over him.
Alfred wasn’t just a respected member of the army; he was loved by every single one of them.
“And that,” Alear mumbled, holding Alfred’s hand ever tighter. “Is why you have to come back to us. To me.”
Alear didn’t want to be friends. He wanted to be so much more than that. Even companions didn’t seem a strong enough word, nor did ally. Alear wanted to spend the rest of his life by Alfred’s side and while he wasn’t quite sure how long his own life would be as a Divine Dragon, the mere thought of spending any time without Alfred by his side made Alear’s very soul hurt.
“Please, Alfred, wake up.”
“Di… Divine One?”
“Alfred!”
Alfred blinked slowly, his eyes almost glazed over but his hand twitched in Alear’s hand and Alear took that to be a good sign. He should call out for the others but the pure joy of seeing Alfred awake at all kept him too distracted to think properly.
“I was so worried,” Alear said quickly. “You were talking but then you weren’t and Céline told me what was happening but she was worried and I was worried and everyone was-“
“Divine One…” Alfred mumbled. “I’m sorry…”
“No, no, don’t apologise. Please Alfred, just try to relax. You’ve been through a lot. Do you want some water?”
Alfred blinked slowly again and Alear wondered if he had even heard the question. Then Alfred shifted, the hand not in Alear’s own reaching up to his throat. Alfred swallowed roughly before nodding.
“Just a moment.” Alear said.
Almost stumbling over himself in the rush to get the water, Alear felt his heart soar. Alfred was awake, really awake. He was even speaking and he was aware of what was happening and everything was going to be okay after all.
Grabbing the pitcher, Alear froze. Alfred was awake. He was alive. It had taken three damn days but he was awake now and Alear didn’t know if words could truly express what he was feeling.
Alear twisted back towards Alfred, the water pitcher forgotten.
“I think I’m in love with you.” Alear blurted.
Alfred blinked. The hand on his throat slowly raised to his forehead and Alfred frowned.
“I think I’m hallucinating.” He mumbled.
“Um, yeah, you are. I mean, it’s not like I would ever declare my love for you, that would be completely ridiculous. You’re a Prince and I’m the Divine Dragon and the world could literally end any day now and I’m going to stop talking and we’re going to forget this ever happened.”
At last bringing over the water for Alfred, Alear urged his heart to stop racing. He had been so stupid, so so stupid. Alfred could never love him back, they were friends. Just friends.
“The Divine Dragon loves me…” Alfred continued, his voice weak. “Yeah… I’ve totally lost it. Well, it’s a small joy even if it’s just a dream. Even if he’ll never know how much I love him too.”
As Alear stood there staring, his body completely stiff, Alfred’s eyes closed once more.
Alear rushed towards him, terrified that Alfred was dead, but as he came closer he saw that Alfred was breathing evenly, his body fully relaxing for the first time in days. Setting aside the water pitcher, Alear put his hand on Alfred’s forehead like Jean had taught him.
Alfred was still too hot. The fever had dropped considerably which meant that Alfred was at last getting better but it was unlikely that he had ever really been aware of what was happening and even more unlikely that he would remember Alear making a fool of himself just now. Alear didn’t know wether he was disappointed or relieved.
Alear didn’t know if Alfred had said those words because he was feverish or because he really meant them but Alear yearned to hold his hand once more all the same.
Alfred had said that he had loved him too. No, it must have been the fever, there was no way in the universe that Alear could ever deserve someone as perfect and amazing as Alfred. All the same Alear would cherish those words forever just as he would cherish Alfred forever, no matter what happened.
A small joy it was to be by Alfred’s side, a joy that Alear was ever grateful for.