Chapter Text
It was a nice night out, the clouds weren't covering the stars for once. It was cold, but not so cold that it would be unbearable. The metal bars of the balcony Altair stood on glistened in the moonlight, a glass of wine containing only a few drops left loosely dangling in his hand as he leaned on the bars. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, between running a village that was, as of late, at a constant state of unluckiness. All the wheat fields got some sickness, was the first problem, it compromised their entire plan for the winter months food. Then more bandits started hanging around the streets, attacking travelers, crossing out any chances of out of town people buying local goods. And now, he's been hearing whispers of a kingdom known for starting pointless wars meant only to destroy and wipe out populations is sending troops to nearby villages.
But those thoughts could be shut out. The problems can be thought about another time, right now, the night sky was more infatuating than the problems overwhelming. Of course, him being a little tipsy didn't help with him making the choice to create solutions to the problems, but right now he needed a break. A break to watch the stars shine, the trees blow in the wind, and a moment to-
"It's a nice night out, wouldn't you say?" Came a voice from behind him. Unfortunately, a familiar voice, and one he hoped not to have to deal with for a while. He turned around, immediately noticing the large blood spot on the mans abdomen, the way he was leaning against the wall slightly for support, and the hand clutched tightly onto the obvious wound.
"You could at least knock instead of breaking in." Altair spoke with clear annoyance, his wings slightly puffed up.
"Aw, but then you wouldn't let me in"
"No, I wouldn't. Say, that's an awfully large wound there, looks painful, who did it? I'll have to give them a raise"
"You're quick to assume one of your guards did this. It was some random thug, they got a lucky hit, that's all"
"And so what are you doing here? Why not just go to Blaze as per usual?" He raised an eyebrow, staring at the injured man.
"They're too far away from here, besides, you always keep healing potions around" Xander's voice took on a more pained sound, the injury making it progressively harder for him to act normal.
"What makes you think I'd even think about helping you? You tried to drown me last week"
"Drown is such an exaggeration, it was just... eh... swimming lessons. Besides, you stabbed me in the shoulder!"
"I did and I'll do it again. Though that current wound must hurt a lot more, huh? I could just leave you to bleed"
That was the most sensible option. To leave Xander out to bleed to death. Altair hated this man, for 6 years they've tried to kill each other and ruin the others life. He would rather be killed by him than even think to help him, of all things. But if he left him to bleed, his floor would get blood on it.
"Come here" Altair said, setting his glass down and walking over to Xander.
And it was a really nice floor.
That was all, he didn't want to ruin his floor.
It wasn't anything else. It wasn't the nagging feeling that he'd miss Xander, it wasn't the worry building up in him, it wasn't the thoughts he had about his enemy sometimes that he pushed far, far into the back of his mind. No, it wasn't any of that, he just didn't want blood on his floors. That was all.
He bent down in front of Xander, slapping the hand that was holding tightly onto the injury away, and lifting his shirt just enough to see how bad the wound was. And it wasn't good.
Whoever had stabbed him wanted him dead, because they'd twisted the knife, a healing potion could do some for this type of injury, but he'd have to patch up the rest himself. He should have a medkit inside, probably, hopefully.
"You're pretty bent down in front of me" Xander said, clearly trying to bring the attention away from the injury.
"Excuse me?" Altair retorted, sounding almost offended. "Would you prefer I finish the job instead of patching you up? I think I would."
"Sorry, sorry, just joking"
Sorry? That was a new one. Xander was the type of person to not enjoy asking for help, let alone needing it, he was also the type of person that one would assume had no idea what the word 'sorry' meant. It was almost off putting.
"Say something like that again and I'll toss you off this balcony" Altair scoffed, dragging Xander into the building and forcefully making him sit on the couch. He walked away and quickly returned with a healing potion and some medical supplies.
"You know, I was thinking-" Xander started, quickly being interrupted.
"You can think?" He says, handing the taller man the health potion, which was quickly drank. Looking closer at the injury, after the healing potion worked, it should heal alright, just with some rest and time. He used a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol to clean around the wound, then put bandages over him
"Nevermind, wasn't important" He retracts his prior statement.
"Here, take these" Altair tosses a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt to Xander, as well as a blanket and a pillow. "You can sleep on the couch, but not in bloody clothes." He left the room, closing his own bedroom door and plopping over onto the bed.
Xander quickly changed, feeling relieved to no longer be in the bloody sticky clothes. Had that really just happened? Had Altair really helped him? No matter for confusing thoughts, because he almost immediately fell asleep on the couch.