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Despite constantly being surrounded by servants who aided his every action—even buckling his shoes or lacing his breeches, Kaelix’s childhood in the palace had been lonely. Rarely did he have anyone to talk to who didn’t scrutinize his every word, gauging his eligibility for the throne.
The only repose from all of it had been his mother, who tried her best to open her heart to him and nurture his whimsy. Having been raised in a stiflingly formal environment herself, however, she hardly knew what informal entailed; always requiring his manners to be impeccable, always mindful of the prying eyes of others, even when they spent time together in private.
The only true exception had been whenever he fell ill.
On those days, he’d receive his mother’s undivided care and attention, her fair brow perpetually knitted with worry as she sat by his bedside throughout the day. She would coddle him indulgently, singing him a lullaby or reading to him without complaint whenever he requested it.
After she passed, Klara, a royal housemaid who had worked closely with his mother for as long as he could remember, took her place. She was the closest thing he had to an older sister, past all the formalities that their difference in status required. He was sure that if it weren’t for her, the loss of his mother would have been far, far more felt than it already had been.
Much later, he had Zeal and Vanta to fuss over him as well, both of whom were equal parts perplexed and concerned at Kaelix’s tendency to fall ill, over something as simple as experiencing too much heightened emotion within a single day. They went so far as to have light tinctures or remedies ready whenever he would have to make particularly nerve-wracking public appearances, which he appreciated to no end.
He would never admit it out loud, but he may have secretly developed a fondness for falling sick, if only for the care and pampering that followed.
Thankfully, before anyone caught on, the frequency of his illness had far lessened over the years, as he braved through the harsh conditions that came with living on a ship for long periods of time.
And so when he fell ill again for the first time in years, it came as a complete surprise.
The day before, his brother—the King—had asked to meet.
It was meant to be a brief rendezvous, born from a need to ‘set the record straight,’ as his brother had put it, in the letter passed to him through the covert mail courier service he and Vanta had maintained over the years.
“I had meant to write you far sooner, after learning the truth of things,” were the first words his brother had said to him as he entered the private room, the entire inn cleared out for the sake of their meeting. His voice had settled into a clear timbre, much lower than the last Kaelix had heard it. “However… I figured hearing from me would have been the last thing you wanted.”
“I am sorry,” Kaelix felt his voice waver dangerously. “For leaving you with that impression. You were far too young.”
“So were you.”
He embraced his brother for the first time in years, mystified at how much taller he’d grown. Despite it all, the warmth of the arms wrapped across his back only felt familiar. Any tension that remained between them shattered right then.
They spoke well into the night, exchanging stories, laughter, and tears, to no small amount of teasing. They sparsely discussed matters of state, if only due to their relevance to his brother’s troubles as of late, and found that they rarely disagreed in most respects. It truly felt like no time had passed since they were both children, bent over the same book in the palace library.
They only bid farewell when dawn broke, a promise to write and keep in touch tucked away like fragile spun glass.
Expectedly, by the time he returned aboard the Heartbeat, the maelstrom of emotions that was the previous night had already begun to take its toll on him.
“You were perfectly healthy just yesterday,” Freo fretted from where he sat on Kaelix’s bed, gently brushing aside his hair to feel his temperature. By the deepening of his frown and the coolness of his hand in contrast, his fever didn’t seem to have abated one bit, despite it being well into the day. “I should ask Seible for more medicine.”
Just as he moved to stand, however, Kaelix brought his hand up to capture Freo’s retreating palm, lacing their fingers together. The tug had Freo plopping back onto the bed, his dangling earring—in the shape of two encircled four-pointed stars—clinking with the halted movement. He had taken to expressing himself far more freely in his attire ever since he joined their crew, opting for slim-fitting clothing and cinched waists, now that he was free from the restraints of the Navy uniform. Admittedly, it all proved very distracting to look at.
“I’m alright,” he brought the back of Freo’s hand to rest against his lips, relishing in the cold relief it provided. “This tends to happen when I experience too much… excitement, if you will. I should have warned you.”
“I don’t believe it would have me any less worried,” Freo huffed.
Kaelix grinned, elation bubbling in his chest at Freo’s attentiveness. “Shame—now you’ll have to bear witness to how insufferable I can be while ill.”
Freo’s brow raised. “You think it might scare me away? Having to mollycoddle you back to health?” Two of his fingers pulled free enough of their interlinked hands to pinch at Kaelix’s cheek, causing him to squawk in protest.
Ignoring the pout Kaelix levelled at him, Freo’s expression softened. “I understand. Illness leaves you vulnerable.”
Kaelix straightened out his expression, recognizing the shift in Freo’s tone into something more sober.
“For me as well… As a child, being bedridden meant fewer meals. I could hardly walk to the mess hall without stumbling, let alone fight the other children for scraps of food,” He recounted it all as if it were a distant, amusing memory, despite how harrowing his early life sounded to Kaelix. “For some time after I was adopted, my parents were beside themselves whenever I would fall sick, since I refused to lie down and rest.”
He held Freo’s hand between both of his, pulling it against his sternum. It wasn’t nearly enough to make up for the years of care and affection Freo was wrongfully deprived of. “And now?”
“Well, I still dislike being ill,” Freo said, with a wry twist of his mouth. “But after the first time Uki cried by my bedside out of vexation, I figured I ought to enjoy being cared for a little more.”
Kaelix hummed. “You’ve still got a ways to go, in that regard.”
Freo narrowed his eyes. Carefully, he unlatched his earring before placing it on the bedside table, next to the medicine and water their crewmates had left earlier. He then toed off his shoes, its wooden heels clunking onto the floorboards.
Just when Kaelix thought he might get pounced on, the blanket he had been wrapped in was lifted off of him instead. “Scoot.”
“I’m contagious!”
“No, you’re not.”
“But I could be.”
“You’re not.”
They end up in a tangle of limbs under the covers, his head pillowed on Freo’s bicep, his face tucked against the crook of his neck.
“Sleep.” The arms around him tightened briefly, before fingers gently combed through his hair in a soothing gesture. “I won’t go anywhere.”
Kaelix closed his eyes, if only to escape staring directly at an expanse of skin, slightly tanned due to increased exposure to the sun as of late. He attributed the burning of his cheeks to his rising fever, and nothing else.
Before long, he was lulled by the quiet rise and fall of Freo’s chest and the steady heartbeat against his cheek. Propriety be damned, he looped an arm around his lover’s waist and pulled him impossibly closer, leaving no ounce of space between them from head to toe.
Like the sea settling after a long storm, it was the most at peace he had felt in years.
--
“I must confess…”
“What is it?”
“It’s not that I dislike being ill, per se.”
“... Please, do not elaborate.”