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Chaol was very, very worried about Dorian.
And it wasn’t just the normal worried that he had normally had for the prince. It was actually warranted worry.
(He was always worried for the prince. And it was totally not because he was in love with him.)
He was pushing himself farther and farther, just to please his father. Every night, Dorian would return to his bedchamber, exhausted and weary. And every time Chaol would have to make sure that he would be safe, that no one would come to kill the young prince in his sleep.
Tonight, the prince once again trudged into his room, right after a long day of lessons of princely manners, the captain of the guard behind him, ready to catch him if he were to faint.
Dorians normally fluffy looking raven hair was flat and greasy, no look for the crown prince. Bags lined the bottom of his ice-blue eyes, making him look more like a skeleton than human.
A chill runs down Chaols spine. Dorian was literally working himself to death, like magic was in play.
Even when Chaol had to learn all the “proper” way for nobility to be, he wasn’t this exhausted or burnt-out.
While stewing in his thoughts, Chaol didn’t hear the sound of Dorian hitting the bed like a dead body. Soft snores echoed through the large chamber, almost methodical.
Chaol sighed, beginning his new nightly routine of making sure the prince was safe.
The windows were locked, just like they were in the morning. None of the traps that were set went off, same with any of the alarms.
Chaol glanced at the sleeping prince, an unhappy expression on his face.
If Dorian continued this habits, it would for sure end up reaping consequences.
Chaol looked at Dorians schedule for tomorrow. Sword fighting and horseback riding was first thing, and following that is lunch with the Queen, then advisory with his father’s counsel.
Why did Chaol have a bad feeling about sword fighting?
-
Dorian woke up even more exhausted than when he fell asleep. It felt like his body wanted him to sleep for a century.
Chaol was nowhere to be seen, most likely in a meeting.
Why wasn’t the man he loved near him? Why wasn’t he protecting him?
(Did Dorian really love Chaol? His family would for sure forbid it, yet he couldn’t help but fall for the captain of the guard.)
He groaned as he sat up, his muscles and boned aching. The sun did nothing to help, just warming him up.
Oh, he fell asleep in his clothes again. He just needed to make himself look presentable, that was it.
He began to undress, swapping out his clothes mindlessly. It was practiced by now, mindlessly.
Chaol walked in, used to seeing the prince like this. He began to speak, another part of their routine.
“Dorian, you have sword fighting and horseback riding in the morning, followed by lunch with your mother, then consul with your father.” Chaols voice didn’t say how anxious he was actually was.
Dorian shrugged, not very concerned. He liked sword play and fighting, but he just felt… off. Yeah, that was the word for it.
Chaol bit his lip, an unexplainable fear pooling in his stomach.
-
When they got down to the arena, all the other soldiers had already vacated the area. Chaol was thankful for that, so one had to see the princes poor state.
He looked even more skeletal, more tired, more exhausted. It was going to start being a problem soon if it wasn’t already one.
He watched Dorian walk over to the sword rack, watching his tired eyes unfocus and focus again. He picked his normal sword, one that was specifically made for him. Chaol grabbed the sword he always had on him, one that he got when he became captain of the guard.
“Dorian, are you sure you wang to do this? You don’t look well, and it has been awhile since you got a good’s nights rest.” Dorian just swings his sword around, testing out his muscles.
“Of course I’m fine Chaol. It’s just a little bit of no sleep, otherwise I’m completely fine. Now, are we going to fight or not?” Dorian’s voice was raspy, and it was rough. It was obvious enough that something was wrong with the prince.
Chaol gave him a weary look, not trusting all the words the prince said, but had to stand down, for he was lesser than a royal.
They stayed silent as they prepared for the fight, stretching their muscles and swinging around the swords. They got into position soon after, ready to begin their spar.
Chaol began to strike first, Dorian blocking it perfectly, Dorian saw an opening, trying to strike him.
Chaol back off, causing the prince to become off balance. He then rushed forward to strike the guard, instead twisting his ankle in a mistake.
His ankle popped, and a bloodcurdling scream could be heard. Chaol immediately dropped his sword, rushing towards his prince, cradling him in his arms. Dorian was trying not to make a noise, but it was no use. Quiet whimpering and sobs came out of his mouth.
Chaol screamed to the guards outside the arena to get the healer, and quickly.
Dorian soon passed put from the intense pain.
-
When Dorian came to, the first thing he felt was a very sharp pain in his ankle. The next thing was that there was a cast around it. He finally noticed that Chaol was sitting on a to-small chair next to his bed, reading something that was previously on Dorians nightstand.
“Chaol?” Dorians voice sounded rough with sleep, and from screaming earlier. Chaols eyes immediately snapped up, looking at the prince. Dorian tried to get up, immediately pushed down by a strong hand.
“You shouldn’t move that much, my prince. Your ankle is severely injured, and you probably won’t be able to walk on it for a long time. Dorian, can you finally tell me what’s wrong?” Chaols voice cracked with emotion, Dorians ice-blue eyes widened and he tried to get up again, stopping himself when he got half way.
“I-I don’t know. My father had been pressuring me more and more to follow the conquest, and my mother wants me to find a bride. It just has been an… exhausting week.” Dorian looked away from Chaol, almost afraid to look at him.
“Is there anything you need me to get for you?” Chaol was worried, and wanted to help his prince, yet, he had to stop himself from falling in love with him.
Dorian hummed in pretend thought, knowing what he wanted.
“I want you to cuddle with me.”
Chaols heart stopped, and with the prince looking at him like that…
Who was he to refuse to sleep with his long-time crush?
“Fine, but only if you sleep for real tonight. And slow down on your training.” Chaol took off his boots, followed by his sword, and his armor. If anyone were to see them in the same bed, that would prove as better blackmail than taking the actual prince.
Dorian nodded, making room for the captain of the guard, being weary of his swollen ankle.
Chaol moved right up next to the prince, smelling the rich scent of perfumes. He wrapped his arms around the spindly body, the other man pushing into the strong body.
Chaol unconsciously planted small butterfly kisses on Dorians neck, Dorian giggling a bit. They fit together like puzzle pieces, their bodies holding each other like they knew they were meant for each other.
“Hey Chaol,” Chaol hummed, signaling that he had heard it. “I think I want you to be my boyfriend.”
Chaol hid a smile, and laughed.
“I think I want to be your boyfriend too.”