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Despite being spring's midst in Hollownest, it was never colder in the palace walls. The air felt fridged. The queen in her gardens for the season meant the king was alone. Alone and still in his bed at noon, contemplating getting out of it for the fiftieth time. The cold outside, according to his wife, “hundreds of unnecessary blankets” was not inviting, as the blankets were his only source of warmth. With another knock at the door, the king was again jolted out of sleep.
“Leave.”
“It's Dryya.”
Dryya? She was supposed to be with the queen, she is the queen's guard after all. What is she doing at the palace and not with the queen in her gardens?
“Why are you here,” the king asked flatly.
“Everyone was so worried about you that the Queen sent me to check on you,” Dryyas's voice was kept soft as if speaking too loud would scare him away.
The king was a dragon. It was slightly normal for him to have small bouts of solitary. Usually, he would come out after a week or two and is often seen retreating to his room with food during this time. But everyone else seemed to think it was going on for far too long—it had been nearly a month.
“I'm fine Dryya.”
“You can tell me if something is wrong. I mean, this doesn't seem like you want to be alone, I can't say I know what's running through your head, but I can say that I know you, better than most at least, you would normally tell us if you wanted to be alone… and according to Ogrim and Isma you haven't eaten yet today, which is one of your tells something is wrong”
"go back to the queen, your loyalties lie with her."
"I'm not just her guard, I am a member of the pale court. I am as much your guard as I am hers."
She was right. At least about the food part, he hadn’t eaten today despite being hungry. He was a dragon after all. Not being able to even get out of bed for food was unusual to the point of concern, but it had only been for the day, he felt like his wife sending her guard to check on him after a month of being solitary and only one day of not eating was unnecessary.
But he would truly prefer her to return to the queen, even if the garden was one of the safest places for the queen to be besides the palace.
“it is nothing for you to worry about.”
“Rinku.”
She used his real name. Damn him for telling her a few things he was trying to hide. She had honed in on how to tell when he was lying about something being nothing to worry about.
Damn him for letting himself get close to a guard, especially a guard with a special hatred for lies so strong she can practically sense them, even if it took her longer to figure him out due to only having slight tells.
They had bonded over her extensive training with him. He wanted only the best to guard his love after all, he was more than determined to make sure only the best of the kingdom would be able to. Most dropped trying to guard the queen after the first month, others after gaining injuries too severe from the training to continue. But she trained with him directly for 6 months, moving fast enough to dodge the worst of the hits, until she finally hit him once, just one slice to his side, it was small but deep, and it was enough. They had spoken regularly during this, finding themselves enjoying the company.
But now she was pestering him about his well-being, which he had no interest in talking about.
“I don't wish to speak of this, Dryya.”
“Ok, that's understandable… but may I bring you something to eat?”
“....fine. I won't promise to eat it."
"worrying..."
He knew he should get out of the bed he had made a nest out of. He might feel better after getting out of bed… but the bed was just so warm. He didn’t wish to leave the warmth. He had almost fallen asleep when Dryya came in with food, placing it down beside him and looking at him with worry.
“My king, are you sure you are all right? You look ill.”
She was right, like she always was. Despite being named the "Pale King” by his subjects, he usually had a slight blush. But that was all gone today. His eyes seemed dull, and he lost the glow that came from his magic due to lack of energy. He couldn't even deny that he seemed ill. Well, he could deny it.
“I'm fine. I'll get over it”
“I had a feeling something was off.”
“I hate this”
“I know” she chuckled
That soft laughter from Dryya’s lips was intoxicating, smooth, and sweet, like honey. Of course, the king had no interest in seeing one of his five knights as anything romantic, although dryya was already having relations with the queen, nearly nightly during the spring months, which he did not care about, in fact, he encouraged his wife to take on more partners to keep her mind off of worrying about him, and allowing him to work late into the night. It felt wrong to think of someone else in that manner—especially his guard.
The slow bonding continued over time, nearly seven years of speaking almost daily, except for in spring when the queen left for her gardens for the entirety of the season. Even then he had seen her once a week at least.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Her butter-smooth voice sounded. He didn't understand what she meant at first until he could feel the heat in his face, blushing. He was looking at her and blushing.
He tried to deny it, push it down, forget about it useless feelings. He doesn't need them.
Collecting himself mentally, he sat up to look at her properly, though this just made him feel small, drrya was a tall woman. He looked at the food and suddenly felt uninterested, the smell putting him off. Perhaps he was more ill than he expected.
"you need to eat."
"huh?"
She stared at him with that determined look she gets when he's being difficult, which is always. He preferred to say he was doing as he wished, but truly, he was just being stubborn.
She was usually less direct with him, but seeing him ill must have made her more determined to fix the problem—aka, make sure he healed from this illness and got out of bed sometime in the next few hours.
He looked at the food and gagged, dry heaving. The thought of eating so overstimulating after being in a silent room with only the bedding touching him all day. dryya took notice.
Within seconds he was being pulled out from under the bedding. The cold air hit his skin where it was exposed. "batobot ui gul!" he cursed, the words were dragon tongue. dryya couldn't understand, she wasn't a dragon, and the language was sacred to dragons, but his slightly whiny and defiantly unfit for a king tone of voice told her it was a complaint.
"you need to cool off, the cold helps with nausea" dryya states flatly, not leaving room for protest.
"if anyone else handled me like this I would have their head"
"good thing I'm not anyone else"
"it's cold"
"you turned the heat off to try to sleep through spring."
"That sounds like me actually"
She was once again right, he started feeling better the moment he was no longer buried under the blankets. Not enough to begin eating quite yet, but better.
"You're burning up"
"am I?"
"yes, you are. You probably have the flu"
She laughed again, softer, not like something was funny, like she was just doing it to comfort him.
She was trying to comfort him.
It worked perfectly.
He moved closer.
He was right against her body.
She made him feel small.
She made him feel safe.
No.
Stop.
He can't think this way.
She is his guard.
His wife's guard.
It's inappropriate.
He stays stubborn.
Cold.
She wraps her arms around him, holding him close. A much-needed comfort.
"you are definitely ill" Her voice is kept soft again, it nearly reminds him of the queen and how she speaks when he is overworking himself, which happens too often. Most likely the reason he is ill now, for even when he is solitary he is working through piles of paperwork. It's a mess.
Suddenly he felt it. A burning in his throat, like something clawing its way out of his body, he shook with the need to repress it, to force it down. The tasteless substance in the back of his throat. It wasn't vomit. He knew that all too well. Black leaking from the corners of his mouth. It filled his mouth and throat. He couldn't breathe. It hurt. It hurt worse than anything. It only made the shaking worse. His vision started to blur and fade. His already gray scleras turned a deep black. He could feel movement all around him, voices sounding far off. He could feel someone shifting to lay him down, every small movement was pure pain.
He wasn't sick. And he knew it the whole time deep down.
He was dying.
Alone.
With no one around but his most trusted guard.
He couldn't even tell her how much he loved her.
It forced its way up, causing him to vomit the black substance off the side of the bed, and suddenly he could breathe again. Coughing what he could out of his lungs and throat, before laying back down. The sound continued to move around him unheard. His whole body burned as if he was on fire.
"Your Majesty!" were the only words he could hear, coming from a very worried dryya. He opened his eyes slowly, not remembering when he closed them fully. His vision was still blurred, with a deep black at the edges.
It took her stopping doing so for him to realize she had been shaking him, the feeling rose again, but he didn't fight it, he vomited off the side of the bed, internally cringing at the ruined white carpet. He flopped onto the bed, knowing dryya would have questions, questions he would have to answer. He even knew the first word about to come out of her mouth.
"Is that void?" she asked slowly. The dangerous substance was now on the floor, reacting to the light of a lamp like it was the worst thing ever.
He gagged again, but there wasn't enough to come up. Which only made him convulse uncomfortably. His body heaving with the need to expel everything.
He didn't answer the question, she already knew the answer. She grabbed a cloth from her pocket and rubbed the black dripping from his mouth off his face. It was such a gentle and loving movement. Like she wanted him to feel nothing but comfort.
"you shouldn't..." he mumbled, he was a mess, his shirt shifted down his shoulders, the fluff that coats his chest and shoulders matted from weeks of neglect, and he only looked more ill now than before.
"I need to..." she whispered back, pulling him in to hold him against her body. He didn't have the energy to push her away. At least that's what he told himself.
It was better that way.
He allowed himself to fully drift off in her arms.