[ Will's reaction won't deter him from springing things on him like this again and again – no, it's rather entertaining to see him stumble over the words, his face hot as his thoughts race to catch up with what just happened. ]
If the timing is not to your liking, I could withdraw the acceptance until it's more reasonable for you.
[ now he's just teasing, and he looks a little smug about it.
perhaps it's so sudden, because Louis realized that they were already acting the part. sitting there talking about stewards, skirting responsibilities, and the state of the capital upon return. he fell so easily into it, because Will made it easy. with that, he was certain that he could see himself here, and that he would rather not be anywhere else. even though there are many things he has not worked out for himself yet, including his purpose and where he now fits in this world, he doesn't want to let go of moments like these. he could have more, and the king belonged to the kingdom, in a way, but now the king could belong to him too.
Will will change as well, and Louis can't say he isn't curious to see where life takes him, and what kind of person he'll become again and again.
showmanship mattered, and symbolism mattered, especially to someone like him. where else would he get a better chance to accept? there's no where else that it would mean more. ]
N-No! You can't do that! [ Is that a royal decree, Will? ] ...I mean, you can, but — no! No, you can't!
[ Louis is teasing, and Will is easily teased, it seems, at least by the gloriously beautiful man he's chased across the continent for an entire year and change, and loved enough to bring back from the brink of death despite everything. Still blushing furiously, he lurches forward and presses himself into Louis's body, hugging him around the waist and squeezing him tightly.
It seems Will, too, doesn't want to let go. ]
I...
[ He buries his face fully into the man's chest. After everything that has happened, who would have ever thought they'd be like this together? When Louis proposed that they rule his new world as equals, did he ever think it would be like this? ]
[ Will grabs him full-force, so suddenly that Louis almost sways off of his feet. once they both settle, he rests a hand on the back of his neck, allow him to hold and squeeze until he's satisfied. he's never really been hugged like this, not since he can remember, anyway, as if there was some sort of desperation inside Will that came pouring over the edges and into his arms. ]
Then you will have me.
[ as if Will doesn't have him, already. somewhat amused, he says: ]
You're holding me as if I'll disappear again.
[ while Louis can not promise that he won't run off on occasion, he knows where his place is now. it took a long time, pain and grief, rejection of peace in pursuit of glory, and one blood battle after another, but he made it.
[ Or so Will mumbles, holding Louis ever more fiercely now that his hug is being accepted. Louis's hand feels warm on the back of his neck, even through his gloves. As he squeezes, he suddenly becomes aware that Louis's waist is every bit as small as it looks, despite the broader expanse of his chest and shoulders. Ah, young love... coupled with healthy infatuation. ]
I'll be a terrible husband if I let you disappear a third time.
[ He says this and then flushes an even more intense pink. Evidently, the prospect of actually becoming Louis's husband is still a little dizzying for him. But he'll get used to it, surely!
Husband! He's going to be Louis's husband! ...This is somehow more miraculous than his becoming king. ]
[ Will's hands are wrapped over his waist, just above the curve of his hip. the fit of his current clothing hugs his shape, with Will's arms disappearing into his cape. the hand that was at his neck now rests lightly over his shoulders, Louis doesn't seem to be in any rush to head anywhere. he quite likes this place, the sunlight, the scent, the meadow of flowers. for years he thought returning would be painful, and it was, but it was beautiful, too; perhaps that was because Will was here. ]
You'd best keep your gaze upon me as we head back to the gauntlet runner.
[ a hand presses to the back of Will's head as he flattens his cheek against his chest. such fierce affection in him – Louis wonders where it comes from, or if it just naturally spills out of him like a spring. Louis makes things look easy, as his confidence is flawless, but there are some things that Will makes look easy, too.
this isn't that bad; not at all. he could get quite used to it. ]
[ Realistically, Will knows that they have to part eventually, but he wants to linger in this embrace for as long as Louis will hold him. To have the promise of his hand in this field of flowers, this close to the sanctum, to the place of their shared birth — it's more than his sensitive soul can bear. Secretly, and not without great sentiment, he wonders if his parents would be proud of him. Despite everything, and the circumstances of their deaths. If they would forgive him for the crime of falling in love.
He closes his eyes, allowing himself to be cradled by Louis. He lets himself fall into the sway of the man's heart. ]
You say that like I can take my eyes off you at all...
[ They do leave that meadow of flowers behind eventually. Perhaps Will's great selfishness is that he wanted to claim that ancient forest for himself, but that isn't such a terrible crime, for a king. Louis would have seen it razed and ravaged, in the worst depths of his madness. Now, at least, they have the comfort of knowing that it will stay there, pristine and undisturbed, until the next time that they need it again.
Neuras is only all too happy to take them up the coast. He chortles and cackles his way through the blissful five-day drive, seemingly twice as delighted for the fact that he knows their friends must be in a whirlwind of distress back at home in the capital. (They could fly, but Where's the fun in that? You've got to take the scenic route for a honeymoon! he'd said, despite Will's protests that this was not, in fact, a honeymoon.) For the first time in his life, Will sees the ocean on this end of the continent, so like and yet completely unlike Brilehaven's sparkling waves. The waves are stormier here, white with seafoam and rage. On the northwestern end of Euchronia, the seabeasts rise up from the ocean and spread their fins to soar like birds through the sky.
They manage to have a little adventure of their own. A small hamlet, so far from Grand Trad that they had only barely been aware of the election and Will's subsequent ascension to the throne, has been terrorized by a horrific human sea creature; together, Louis and Will succeed in luring it out with a series of smaller kills. Privately, Will marvels at his fiancé's sheer destructive force: even without magla at his command, Louis does the bulk of the damage in the ensuing fight, all deadly elegance with a simple blade.
That being said...
No one wants to hear about their triumph over the human seabeast when they get back.
"You could have died!" Hulkenberg catastrophizes, as if the king isn't the most powerful man in the country, traveling with the second most powerful man in the country. "You could have been killed! How could you leave without even a word to Gallica —"
"Technically, I did say something to Gallica..."
"Even so! And Neuras! That old fool! When I get my hands on him I'll, I'll — argh!"
Will blinks and smiles through it, still privately marveling that Neuras somehow managed to make a run for it once the runner was parked in its usual royal waiting area again. While Gallica flits around the king's head, as if inspecting him for any damage Louis might have rendered to him, Strohl finally asks the question that any sensible person would want to know:
"So, wait," the clemar general asks, running a hand through his hair as if trying to wrap his head around what's happened, "why did Louis leave without saying anything to anyone in the first place?"
"Oh," Will says, before Louis himself can get a word in. "Because — first of all, we're getting married."
...
Will does not ask if the ensuing shrieks came from Gallica, Hulkenberg, or Junah. It probably wasn't Eupha. It might have been Strohl? It was a lot of voices at once. ]
[ Louis likes the deck when they're moving over land, even with the distant rumble of thunder and the dark anger of the clouds ahead of them. neither the turbulence, weather nor danger seem to deter him, never looking anything more than elegantly tousled from the wind when he returns to the lower quarters. Neuras seems to amuse him, as Louis can find connection in rebellion – he quite likes the spirit that Neuras seems to embody to influence Will's more mischievous side.
when not above deck, he finds a book from the bookshelf, and to his credit, goes through the entire thing on the trip's time. when filled with Will's companions, it's always bustling while they go about their business during their trips, and with Louis it's far quieter. certainly it's because the warm bustle of several bodies is replaced with just two, but also because Louis seems to be happy to bask in the pages of whatever he gets his hands on. like a cat trying to find the best spot to sleep, it takes Louis a few tries to find his favorite reading spot: the table too rigid for him to lean back in the chair, the bed tubes too stuffy (he's rather tall), and the deck too windy (as much as he likes it out there, it's far too turbulent during the gauntlet runner's movement). finally, he picks the squishy old seat on the lower decks. somehow looking oddly elegant against the dingy exterior – it is, partially due to Will (or entirely due to him), far cleaner than it was when the gauntlet runner was first boarded. when Will comes to share the time reading, Louis only has to move an arm or uncross his legs to make room, hardly bothered by the intrusion. (on the way back he even finds places to absently put his hands while his nose is in his book, teasing Will's hair between his fingers as he reads.)
the coast is glorious and rainy, littered with whirlpools and rocky ledges. the trees are tall, their roots so hardy that they've clawed their way into the rock to survive. it's appropriate, Louis thinks, when he sees them, in a way he never really looked at them before. he's relieved when they run into pods of monsters, and then another, and another. the pent up frustration he has had seems to dissipate into the mist surrounding them when he's in battle, even without the aid of magla. the human is a welcome occurrence, and while it takes them only a moment to figure out how to balance themselves in battle, they fall into it so quickly that Louis would consider their coordination more like a dance than not. they treat with the hamlet afterward on bitter beer and an chowder made from various creatures from the coast (Will mentions that Hulkenberg would love it).
Louis' discipline with the blade comes as a second nature, as if it were some sick extension of his arm. when they get back to the gauntlet runner, Louis takes it upon himself to perfect Will's grip. he's certainly not an amateur, far from it, but there's a sort of beauty in the way Will fights that some adjustment would make extraordinary.
"Loosen your grip," he says, his chin just above Will's shoulder, voice low. He's so close that his lips almost touch his ear. there's a palm pressed to Will's lower back as Louis addresses his posture. "Relax your shoulders, you won't drop the weight. Good, just like that ..."
(does Louis know how he's coming off? well, it's difficult to tell.)
when they arrive back in Grand Trad, they meet the explosion that Louis expected. it's rather entertaining to watch them all fuss over him, especially since both the king and his fiancé had cleared the beasts and humans on a few miles of coast not days before. for the most part he rests his arms over his chest, listening to Hulkenberg, then Junah (who's eying him suspiciously, as if she knows something), then Strohl.
when Louis speaks, there's a certain command to it. it does, in some ways, rub the Partisans the wrong way, but to Louis' credit, he doesn't seem to care.
"While your king has evaded his first assassination attempt, there will be others. We have thwarted the plans for the head of the Igniter Consortium only for now, but only for now. An elda on the throne still has far reaching implications, and there still would be those that would use such to their advantage – prejudiced or not. My name and guise will not only be cause for quelling those ambitions, but also for those seeking some comfort.
"It is far to your advantage, as well as it is to mine – though I would believe more for you."
the glares he can take, because he knows he's got the right of it.
after their exchanges, most of which are still cautious, Junah pulls him aside and points directly at the center of his chest. "There's more to this then you're letting on," she accuses, bright eyes narrow. "I know it. You let those rumors fester because they were beneficial to you, and there's benefit to you now, isn't there? Don't you dare bring hurt him."
it would be the first of many confrontations of the same. ]
[ after the announcement, Louis seems calmer. Eupha notices it first, keeping watch over his magla like an eagle on a fox. she mentions it to Will casually, "Whatever you met about may have some resolution, his magla isn't nearly as chaotic lately."
and it's true, while not all of Louis' problems have been resolved, he seems pointedly less restless. it may be due to the engagement, or the vacation (and somewhere to put his blade), or possibly the conflict that the arose due to the betrothal. there's a familiarity with being the one to blame, and he certainly seems to take the conflict in stride. there are other confrontations that the Partisans have with him, and who could blame them, really? even Louis, who was wrongly targeted by their mission, still became something monstrous in the end. by far the most threatening is Heismay, but he's also one of the more reasonable, rather than walking away with conflict, there is a tentative understanding between the two of them.
Louis does get to work in his own way – while he may not have power anymore, he knows how to scratch together some semblance of a working network. he starts with something small: he means to find his books, the rarer ones first, and then the rest, afterward. Fidelio has a handle on it, and after a few days, the first begin to come in. it feels good to have them in his hands again, and when more make their way into the palace, he begins leaving choice texts for Will to find in his chambers after his duties.
there's still no announcement yet, as things are, well – messy would be an understatement. it was best to work things out personally before bringing it to the public's attention. relations between the Six Partisans and Lord Louis is tense at best, and the victories Will wins in soothing them only seem to last a few days.
"They will have to adjust themselves to it," Louis says on a night when they both could share a meal. "You are their king, and even if it's a decision they don't like, it's still yours."
during talks about how the announcement will be planned, who first should get the message (certain nobles could be quite finnicky to who gets information first, they don't want to hear something from the rumors in town), and what the timing would be to the council and Sanctist Church, Louis takes notice that Will looks pale. the magla suppressors make it difficult for him to make the details of it, but he's tuned into Will enough to know something is not right.
he stands up before Will collapses, the eyes in the room going to him, before they're back on Will. the rest happens quickly, Hulkenberg is called, who frantically commands the guard to take their king to his quarters, and then for the doctors. the room is scrambling, and Eupha takes off after the guards to follow Will, certainly on the same notion that Louis had.
with his eyes narrowed, he trails behind group. his heart is pounding in his chest, up against his eardrums, only betrayed by his easy stride. ]
[ Will does not regret returning to Grand Trad, but for a few days, secretly and in the privacy of his heart where Akademeia once stood, he does sort of regret the fact that he did not relish his private vacation with Louis for a little while longer. It was so nice while it lasted: only having to think about the sea spray in the air, and the fresh breeze on the deck, and the beasts that they would slay for sport and profit and minor bits of political support. Now that Will is no adventurer but a king again, he feels caught between too many parties: boardrooms, courtrooms, his people, his friends, the nobility, the church. It is clear that the nation is in no condition to hear about the king's betrothal to Louis Guiabern, in no small part because Louis himself has yet to win over the king's own confidants.
(Nearly all of the Partisans see no value in the idea of Will marrying Louis. Gallica only buzzes in confusion until Will finally admits to her that he truly does love the man. Junah, Eupha, and Hulkenberg seem actively decided against it, perhaps in no small part because all three would have better access to the kinds of stories that arise when frail princesses are married to tyrants — though of the three, Eupha somewhat surprisingly seems the most amenable to being persuaded about the idea. Strohl seems to flip-flop in his position, occasionally mentioning that he sees the political merit in it, then casting his golden-brown eyes to the floor as he contemplates the prospect of a country with the man he nearly sees as his father's killer on the throne. Fidelio and Basilio generally treat the idea as more of a joke than anything else, though Will has detected flashes of frustration in Fidelio's yellow eyes, as though what truly frustrates him is the idea that perhaps he never understood Louis at all.
Only Neuras knows the way that Louis and Will had curled up with each other on the runner, each laying on the other's warmth, turning idle pages, fingers carding through silken hair. Only Louis knows the way that his warm hands and low whispers made Will tense up, aching for more than careful touch.)
...Heismay does come to threaten Louis one night.
Or perhaps that's not quite his objective. The eugief comes and goes near-silently; it's an easy thing for him to be found waiting for Louis to emerge from the bath in his quarters, hanging upside-down from the ceiling, arms folded in his usual eugief way.
The man doesn't bother with the usual sort of intimidation before an interrogation — only launches into his remarks. "I know not whether you still have designs upon this nation," Heismay murmurs in a quiet, low voice, "but I have taken the measure of you, Louis. You do not strike me as the sort of man who would claw his way to the throne through seduction and marriage. You strike me as the kind of man who is too prideful to do that."
A pause, and then his gleaming red eyes vanish completely from sight.
"My advice to you — not as your enemy, but as an older man who once lost what he loved — is this: cherish him. Every moment you have with him. You and he deserve better than what men like me were given."
Regardless — Will knows nothing of this. The following morning, he looks pale, a little disoriented. He tries to hide it from his friends, particularly Gallica, who is thinking the same thing he is: He looks the way he did when he was suffering from Rella's curse.
He manages to shake off the blur in his vision, powering his way through breakfast, and then a tedious meeting featuring traders from the merchants' guild, come to protest wages withheld by their employers. During the strategy meeting with his Partisans that comes afterward, when the idea of the engagement with Louis is brought up again, he finally finds it in his body to relax, let his shoulders slump, heave a sigh —
— only to collapse outright from the chair in which he's seated.
Everyone stands up in a panic after that.
Eupha is already channeling an Archetype of the Healer line as Hulkenberg calls for a doctor, but the issue affecting his magla, the mustari reports soon afterward, is not one that an Archetype can solve. The ordinary doctors quibble about what ails him: An illness? An infection? Another curse? (There is some talk of bloodletting; another doctor says the leech enthusiast should be fired.)
Basilio mutters under his breath about how he doesn't like these kinds of doctors; Strohl admits readily that they should have done a better job of cleaning house in the medical department. The royal doctors were the ones who let Hythlodaeus V become bedridden, but no one had thought to remove them until Will came down sick. ]
[ Louis sees no reason to divulge his feelings – how could any of them possibly understand? both Louis and Will have done terrible things to one another, both forgiving of each other's transgressions in favor of their affections. when he watches the Partisans argue over Will's choices, he feels a quiet rage flicker inside of him that never quite reaches the surface. out of all of this, they can only still think of their own pain, and not the complicated net of circumstances that created it: one they were all very much a part of. for the most part, Louis does not accuse them of their own missteps; it is, in most ways, useless. it's not because he sees some moral superiority in it, but simply because he's kept it to himself for so long that it seems like walking into an impasse. he's been blamed for far worse, and it's never hindered his strength.
there are a few glances passed his way, and he knows the question that is now repeating like a mantra in all of their minds: did Louis Guiabern do this? for a moment he hates all of them, viciously, displacing his worry for rage.
"It could be that another curse was ..." the doctor is looking at him, out of the corner of her eye, uttering the thought into being by breathing life into the words.
that's it. Louis is done watching them scramble like rats in their ignorance, flitting around the king how he remembers them flitting around Hythlodeaus in his bedridden grief. from behind the mingle of people that have made their way into Will's private quarters, Louis steps up.
"Leave," he demands, voice sharp. "Now."
"With all due respect, only the –"
"Leave or I will drag you out."
the doctors all look at one another, some of their mouths agape, others trying to find words to argue where Louis left no room for argument. now threatened, they all leave the room, Basilio muttering under how it's easier to breathe now. Hulkenberg looks like she wants to retaliate Louis' demands, but only glares at him for now.
"You, General Strohl. There's an eldan village to the east, take the most trusted of your soldiers and seek Gruidae. She has a text that details magla flow in the body. Travel through the night if you must and do not rest until your return."
"This isn't a curse, is it?" Gallica asks, already knowing the answer. "It's something else."
Louis nods, briefly, and from Will's side, Eupha does too. pulling glove off of his middle finger, he presses a palm to Will's forehead. he's hot, and Louis can only trace the flow of the magla like a dull feeling in his nerves.
"Remove these," he says to Eupha, holding out his wrist, adorn with the bracelets.
"I'm ... sorry?"
"I can't be of use to him if I'm still chained. You can shackle me again after this is over if it comforts you."
"You cannot be serious," Hulkenberg interjects. Eupha's inquiring gaze meets hers. Right now, her anger seems to match Louis', out of both terror of failure and concern for her beloved prince. "Will you still be a threat? It's not far from here that you drove a blade into the king's chest."
"And it's not far from here that you chased a culprit of whom you convinced yourself was me. I'm here because your king wills it – you either trust his judgement or I will find another way to shatter these chains without your aid."
"If you mean treachery, I swear by my blade, Louis Guiabern –"
Eupha's removing the bracelets, taking them gingerly from Louis' wrists and into her hands. her expression is mixed, she certainly doesn't trust this man with much, but the two of them have reached an understanding on Will's condition.
"If you use too much magla, I'll know." that is her only warning.
watching Will for a moment, Louis notes how small he looks cradled under the covers, a wince crossing his expression.
(Basilio and Fidelio glance at one another. "He's still got it, eh? I haven't heard him this mad in a long while. Still a bit rough, though." Fidelio grins.) ]
[ Strohl, ever the general who never quite stopped being a soldier, is always quick to answer an order when he's been given one. "I'll take the runner," he answers quickly, already halfway out the door.
Junah isn't present in the room — she's off at the Mage's Academy again today, and as she doesn't have the runner, she can't herself teleport over — but Heismay watches the group in her stead for a few moments, his bright eugief eyes nearly as glassy as her brilliant nidia irises. After another moment, he disappears. "I'll go with Strohl," are his last remarks before they set off. It's likely a thought with some strategy behind it; Heismay was always their barrelman whenever they were out on the runner together, and while Neuras likely won't need a second set of eyes to watch for enemies in the air, it's better for Strohl to not be the only combatant on the runner, all the same.
...
In his slumber, Will dreams.
It's not a very nice dream, but it's also a very disjointed one. He is human again, impossibly large, with curse-magenta magla surging through his veins. The little teeth monsters want to play hide-and-seek with him, but when he tries to step forward to find them, he accidentally crushes a few under his feet. He's very sad about this. He cries a little.
When he wakes, he's not quite so distressed, but he's vaguely conscious of yelling around him, an argument taking place. His brow furrows; he's still not fully awake. The teeth all seem very upset with him — or are they just upset over him? He can't quite tell...
His lashes flutter open; his eyes scan the room blearily. Did they return him to his own bed, or is this a bed in another room? His eyes scan colors, shapes; there's Eupha over there to his left, the Magnus brothers in the corner, Hulkenberg by the wall. Louis, close by his bedside, his long-lashed eyes positively burning with fury and — what seems like — ]
...Louis...?
[ His lashes flutter closed, then open again. He gropes weakly for Louis's wrist. The man's hand feels so cool on his forehead; can he move it to his cheek and neck too? It would feel so nice, so comforting... ]
Don't look so sad... I just had a bad dream, that's all...
[ Will stirs, and the pure anger that was driving Louis seems to fade to mist, even if the tension in the room does not. standing above him, Louis presses his hand against his temple, cradling his cheek. his touch is gentle, cool, and now that the suppressors are gone, he guides the flow of magla. it does not offer much relief for the king, but it does some, like a trickle of water down a dry throat.
the change in Louis' voice surprises Eupha, who watches the two of them diligently. ]
Do you remember what happened?
[ he asks lowly, allowing Will to guide his hand with the slightest of touch. at the slightest twitch of his fingers, he glides his palm down his neck, offering some relief to the heat.
a little louder, he speaks to those behind him. ]
I need water, and someone get me Fermis Ointment.
[ Eupha takes it upon herself to rush back through the door to get Louis the supplies that he's asking for: she knows he'll ask for more as well, and she should start prepping for when he does. after seeing him touch Will, she has no qualms leaving them alone. it was all that she needed.
"Call for us when you need us," Fidelio says, dismissing himself with Basilio on his heels. Hulkenberg wants to throw another threat, but she doesn't. instead she leaves behind the two brothers to guard the door. it's a sensitive thing when the king is ill – it opens him to many other types of threats, and she needs to fulfill her duty her king (it also allows her to keep an eye on Louis), as well as manage those that would see him. ]
The teeth monsters wanted to play with me, but I hurt them when I tried to touch them...
[ Will mumbles in a quiet, tired voice. His magla is all out of sorts, coiling in frazzled knots, but Louis's guiding hands slowly pull things back into place where they belong. It won't cure the malady that ails him, not by a long shot, but at the very least, it will ease his suffering for a moment. Tension eases out of his body in slow increments, bringing his shoulders down, and his eyes ever closer to closed again. ]
I feel bad. They only wanted to play...
[ Eupha stumbles back into the room, carrying the supplies that Louis requested; she sets them on the bedside table with the brisk, efficient manner of a nurse attending to a doctor's orders. Perhaps she's not so unused to this as Will thinks she is; the people of Eht Ria looked to her as a priestess before this, so perhaps she really has seen her fair share of patients. And yet, this must be such a strange experience for her, some more lucid part of Will realizes dimly. She always looked at her Captain as a source of strength and knowledge about the outside world — now here she stands, seeing a new side of him, and of Louis. Watching her nation's leader in bed with the covers pulled up to his neck, mumbling to his lover in a sweetly boyish voice.
Weakly, Will's fingerpads press into Louis's knuckles, in a manner that would be insistent if it were just not so terribly light. He looks into Louis's eyes, seeking his attention; the look in his blue irises is both glazed-over and impossibly loving. ]
...If you stay here, you'll catch what I've got. And then they'll be alone again...
[ Louis says with a heave of his chest. as each body leaves the room, the air yields, and the magla begins to disperse. Eupha keeps her head tilted, watching, as if she's keeping an eye on the flow of it from where she's standing. ]
It seems the nightmares are an symptom of the condition.
[ most likely from Will's anxieties, but Louis keeps that part to himself.
"Lady Gruidae said you came from a family of medics," Gallica says, as if she's suddenly recalling something that makes all of this click into place. "Charadrius, the name of your skyrunner."
"Yes, I remember now," Eupha replies. "That knowledge ..." ]
I don't have much of it, but I have more than those ignorant pissants that would rather indulge in archaic practices than aid their king.
[ there's a bite to Louis' voice, but it dies down again when he turns to the bedside to tend to Will. much to Will's displeasure, he has to remove his hand to apply the ointment: smudged just below his hairline, behind his ears, and Louis folds down the blanket and unbuttons the king's tunic to smear it over his chest, just above his collar.
"You're going to do what you can to help him, aren't you?" Gallica asks. she is, admittedly, still conflicted. ]
Are you truly asking me that?
[ it is some relief to her, who buzzes next to Will's bedside to put a little fairy hand on his hot cheek.
"He's burning up..." ]
We won't be able to do much until your General returns. [ Louis eyes Gallica, and then Eupha. he offers a slick smile that is more knowing than cheerful. ] As for you, your aid will be needed when they do. If I were you, I'd get a good rest in, and perhaps a bath. We may be in for a long night.
[ Eupha nods, hesitating, and then leaves on his suggestion. there's not much that they can do now, especially since Louis has sent all the doctors away. at least there will be no bloodletting tonight. ]
You too. [ Louis says to Gallica. ] I'll stay here at his side. There are those that would take advantage of this ... opportunity. You did this aboard the Charadrius, did you not? A little reconnaissance could go a long way, even within the walls of the palace. Find those that saw him in such a state, see if there are rumors beginning to circulate.
[ at first Gallica doesn't seem to want to leave, but then she does, with a new sense of duty. she's getting rather good at these little missions.
[ Dimly, Will is aware that Louis ordered Eupha and Gallica out of the room, and that his Partisans are now taking orders from Louis in his stead. He smiles a little vacantly at the thought. Are they already married? That would be nice. It’s such a shame that he doesn't remember the ceremony...
Louis's question reaches his mind after another moment. It's so hard to think, suddenly, and he can't quite seem to understand why — how did his fever get so hot, so fast? Or has it been this bad for the past few hours, in a way where no one else quite noticed, or could only suspect something wrong?
...Now that his friends aren't around, and he doesn't have to be strong for them, Will slumps further in the bed, his head lolling slightly to one side where he rests on the pillow. His sheer exhaustion finally shows on his face. ]
I don't know... everywhere. I... I ache everywhere. Down to my bones.
[ With considerable effort, he takes hold of Louis's hand again, cradling it as if it would be a great comfort to him. Still weakly, he presses it to his sternum, right below where Louis applied a dab of cooling ointment. ]
Here... where the curse hit me. In my chest, through to my back... It hurts.
[ even if Gallica comes up with nothing (though somehow Louis does doubt that there aren't rumors already spreading), then at least she has a duty that feels useful. Fidelio and Basilio had caught on as he barked out orders – it felt a bit like old times, when something would happen and Count Louis would take command, as if he somehow knew exactly what to do.
(he's not quite sure if he stationed himself at Will's side out of concern and affection, or if it seemed the most reasonable conclusion. if there were someone who meant to take advantage of the king's illness, they'd have to get through Hulkenberg, Basilio and Fidelio, and then through him. if they got through Hulkenberg, Louis reasoned, it was because she did not have the propensity for extreme violence that he did. then he would kill them.)
Louis' strength was never control, quite the opposite, instead he seemed to know exactly how to handle the chaos in his favor. ]
Your body still remembers.
[ and most likely always would. Louis' hand wanders up his chest to the point of pain, his face blank in concentration. ah, yes, the magla was a tangle there, as if it were trying to retrace the edges of an old wound, forcing it to reopen. for Louis, it's remembering the opposite of the outcome of his own human experiments, and applying the technique and spells differently.
it's like untangling a ball of yarn tied in knots: easier to create than unmake. ]
[ ...He's gazing at Louis like he wants to eat him.
This is absolutely not the right time for Will's hindbrain to be thinking about the weight of Louis's hand on his lower back!
Though he does at least look sufficiently charming: eyes glossy, cheeks flushed, skin hot. If it weren't for the slightly pale cast to his olive skin, he'd paint a tempting picture of a king in need.
Regardless — he's not in good health right now for the need that he may be craving. He does shiver a little as Louis's hand slides towards his core, where Rella's curse would have ravaged his heart for the last twelve years; his flesh is in good health, but his magla is all a-tangle. Louis pulls it loose, bit by bit. The act of healing him is only slightly less difficult than what Will would have gone through when he spent a full day weaving the incorporeal strings of Louis's flesh together, forming him from the remnants of his shattered magla.
For a sick person, he does at least seem quite happy to have Louis's attention right now... ]
[ well, Louis really has to admire that despite being this ill, that Will still has the wherewithal to let his brain dip between his legs. he supposes that's a good sign, isn't it?
at first his head tilts, and then a sort of amused smile passes his face. if he didn't center himself somewhat, he realizes that Will's expression would have him thoroughly seduced. ]
You hardly have the strength to be bedded right now.
[ sorry, Will's horny thoughts.
Louis does guide his hand across Will's chest, along the soft dips in sensitive skin, taking note of the beat of his heart. he can only slightly shift the magla, as he's not familiar with what it should look like (only how to mess it up). it seems to be soothing him, at least, though Louis can't tell if it's the spell or the touch.
with the Partisans busy, and most likely off to allow them some time before someone reports back (he assumes Gallica will be first, and he doesn't exactly mind being caught by her) or Will's condition changes, he shifts Will just slightly to slip into bed next to him. being taller, his weight creates a dip in the soft mattress, though it's certainly large enough for ten Wills. he does have to rearrange the king slightly, as he's too weak to do it himself, but he rests his hand on his collar, keeping watch of his condition.
[ Their bodies always seem to slot nicely together, and then settle perfectly together. Will normally sleeps perfectly still on his back, as though held in place by some frozen hand of time, but with Louis pillowed against him, Will turns onto his side, holding the man he would have gone to hell and back to claim (and in some ways did).
He hasn't forgotten about what they did to each other, but there's no reason to linger on it, either. Louis is with him, doting on him, hasn't left his side. There's something inherently soothing about Louis's scent, the weight of his body, the feel of his skin.
In vague bursts of color and image, Will dreams of being snuggled up next to a giant Plateau. When he tries to move, Plateau bats at him with one paw and pulls him closer again.
After some few hours, Gallica does come back, with the very faint sound of twinkling that heralds her adjusting her magla to be perceptible to most people again. "Louis? I'm back. How's — oh!"
She cuts herself off. As soon as she flies into the room and sets eyes on the way Louis has curled up over Will's body, protective as a chimera with its pups, Gallica claps a hand over her mouth and immediately makes herself scarce again. Whether or not Louis stirs is irrelevant. Perhaps she's gone to report what she saw to Eupha, who may still be contemplating Louis's gentle touch in her own quarters, and how little she truly understands the man who may soon be marrying her king.
...
At length, Strohl returns. Having shed his general's cape and armor for the slightly dusty traveling coat that carried him through the initial campaign to defeat Louis, the young clemar man doesn't jostle and jingle so much as he strides into the king's bedchamber, Gruidae's book in hand. Heismay and — for whatever reason — the Magnus brothers follow not long after.
"Louis," Strohl says, as if calling out to a friend — unintentionally blustering, voice just slightly too loud. "I've got the book." ]
[ for a few hours, they rest. Will is allowed some peace, and while he slumbers, Louis gently shifts the paths of the magla from the infinite tangle they seem to have gotten themselves into. there's is curiosity in what caused this – if it was something to do with their elda nature, or perhaps the loss of the sceptre and the anxieties of the people put upon will, or something else lost in the pages of another book somewhere.
Louis laughed when Will asked him if he would've been a healer. that knowledge of magla that his family had passed down had only been used for his own destructive means, and never for the use it was intended for. this is the first time he had ever thought to use it that way – or, rather, was forced to use it that way. healing is much harder than destroying, and requires far more of his concentration, but he finds the effort worth it to see Will sleeping soundly for at least a while.
out of the corner of his eye he catches Gallica, but she quickly excuses herself from the room without a word.
eventually, Louis does have to untangle himself from Will, though he knows there will be protest. there's ointment to reapply, as his fever hasn't budged, and thirst to alleviate: both Will's and Louis'. with a firm hand, he guides Will to sit and drink, urging him to take one more sip on the basis of "you'll need to keep up with me later." that's how Strohl finds them, with Louis keeping Will steady with one hand, and holding the goblet with the other so Will can tip it toward his lips. at first he doesn't acknowledge him, but when Will finishes and Louis settles him down again, he gets up from his bedside. ]
Good. She didn't protest, I take it? She does like to sit on useful knowledge.
[ there's a little drawl to his voice that he usually kept under wraps, given the circumstances of his own political campaign, but there's no reason to hold back now. Louis liked the command in his voice, rather than the cattiness, but both were there depending on his mood.
Strohl takes a look between them, then shares a glance with Heismay.
"I told her it was for the king." ]
Wise move.
[ Louis says, and Strohl doesn't seem to know what to do with getting direct praise from Louis Guiabern. it's enough for Louis to pluck the book from his grasp and leaf through it.
then comes the other questions he knew were coming.
"How is he?" ]
Stable, for the most part. His magla is an unintelligible web that is causing him some distress. The nightmares have subsided, as long as the threshold of stress remains at a minimum. You can go see him, if you'd like.
[ Strohl just nods and takes a few long strides toward Will's bedside, still smelling of the night air.
Louis watches Heismay follow Strohl at a more leisurely pace, both of them watching each other out of the corner of their eye, though Heismay seems more calm now. well, he doesn't dwell on it.
instead he turns to speak with Basilio and Fidelio with getting the remainder of the supplies and calling for Eupha and Gallica – Eupha will be needed as an aid, given that she's the most gifted with magla being a mustari. Basilio makes a comment about how he's never "seen this side of Louis" that Louis decides to pointedly ignore in favor of finishing the business needed to heal the king. ]
[ Strohl frowns, still mildly discomfited by Louis's unexpected praise, and his own realization that he's slowly getting used to addressing the man like any other member of their group. In his mind, he fully understands that this isn't necessarily a bad thing — but it would have been unthinkable to him only a few short weeks ago.
There's a real fear, deep in an anxious corner of his heart, that this might be the thing that finally claims Will's life, either because they only ever bought him a little more time from the curse that Rella admitted was killing her too, or because this is all some dastardly machination of Louis's. But it's hard to argue with the tender expression on that man's handsome face when Strohl walked in — and Fidelio and Basilio never described him as a great actor. He was many things before he died, but he was never particularly adept at lying.
...Sometimes Strohl suspects that he of all the Partisans knows best how their group is largely held together by Will. Maybe it's because he's been with Will the longest; maybe it's because he's usually the fastest to admit to his own faults and shortcomings. If the king died, he doesn't think they'd all fall apart — but the rifts between them would rise up again, and secretly, he's not sure that any of them are above infighting and petty squabbles.
When she found out that Will was sick, Junah had said, "If only Rella were still here!"
And then, for some reason, Heismay had drawled, "She never had the best track record of treating him, mind."
Junah had sort of — she hadn't gotten angry. But she'd sort of stuttered, in a strangely flustered and then broken-hearted way that Strohl had never seen from her, and then she turned on her heel and made up an excuse to leave. There's a part of him that sort of thinks that Heismay was being a bit of an ass about it, given the way Rella died in front of her; there's an equal part of him that sort of sees what Heismay was getting at, the way Rella had lied about everything, and wasn't without her faults, though they'd all agreed that Forden was at the heart of them. As for Heismay, Strohl hadn't pressed the old eugief on why he'd been so cruel. It's a small comfort to him that Heismay doesn't complain about the paripus anymore.
Still, he thinks. It wouldn't have happened if Will had been awake. Something about him makes the rest of them better people than they'd be without him, and part of that is scary, too.
Who would I be if I didn't have Will? he thinks.
And then, on a different topic: Louis would probably still hate Rella if she were still alive.
Sighing, he takes the few long strides towards Will's bedside, reaching out to the king with bare hands to check his temperature. "Hey, Will," he says softly, as if speaking to a younger brother. The tone of his voice is warmer and stronger than he feels at the moment. The elda's forehead burns under his palm. "How are you feeling?"
Will smiles, falling back against the pillows. "I'm okay," he murmurs softly. "Louis has been really nice to me."
Strohl lets out another quiet sigh of relief.
In the next few moments, Will is rubbing his face against Strohl's chest, ostensibly because he likes the soft material of Strohl's turtleneck sweater, and as the poor clemar turns redder and redder by the second, babbling awkwardly and glancing at Louis with some strangely guilty expression on his face — it is at least some relief that when Heismay steps in to help, Will also scoops the eugief up in a hug, squeezing and rubbing his face against the man's soft ears.
Gallica, who has by now materialized with Eupha, presses her small fairy palm against her face in exasperation. "What is he, charmed? Does someone have Patra? Can someone try Patra?!" ]
[ Louis wonders, absently, if Strohl thinks that he's jealous. that's quite a funny look he's getting from Will's bedside, and while his eyes wander over, he finally turns his head to look at him and makes it a deliberate point of discomfort.
then, he says, both to the red-faced Strohl and the Heismay whose ears are now framing Will's face: ]
Should you not comfort your king?
[ there is an aloof confidence that he oozes when he says that, as if the words were thick in his mouth. Louis is not certain when he fell into this – this sort of ... joking with them. still, as if unused to it, the whole room goes quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on Louis, the only noise a soft intake of breath from Eupha.
the room remains tense for a moment, and the Basilio cracks. it's hard not to laugh at the Very Serious expressions everyone is making. Fidelio cracks a semi-amused smile.
"The lot of you have got to get used to this."
one of the frustrating aspects of this entire ordeal is not whether or not Louis would harm the king, but rather the way in which he would. curses and poisons, while are in his toolkit of magla arts, are not his preferred method of battle. for Will, especially, who earned his respect enough for Louis Guiabern to become his partner, he would end at the tip of a blade – or, perhaps, Will would end him. they owe that to one another.
so, yes, he would hate Rella if she had lived – he does still hate Rella now. it wasn't her that ruined his life, but she was a stark reminder how the church viewed any combatant. she was someone seen as pure, saintly, and then in contrast, he was the power-hungry aristocrat.
just as Louis has settled in his joke, he notices a flap of wings in front of his face, and a fairy buzzing around his head.
"You can't – you just can't joke like that with a straight face! Not when you're you," Gallica is waving her finger at him.
is he being scolded? is she scolding him? so brashly, too.
Louis stares at her looking bright-eyed and a bit like he's never been told off like this in his life. ]
[ The thing that breaks the tension is the sound of sweetly innocent laughter from the bed.
It is Will, of course, who is laughing in a manner that is far too alert for someone who currently has his head cradled atop Heismay's fuzzy head and between his long, fluffy ears.
"...Hey!!!" Strohl blusters, having finally caught on. "You aren't delirious at all! You, you rascal — !"
It's some moments more before everyone realizes that Will has, at least at this juncture, been faking his illness; certainly he is still feverish, certainly that part can't possibly be faked, but he's not so far gone as to have become a monstrous cuddlebug for anything less than his own amusement. (And what a cuddlebug he is! Strohl is still beet-red as he leaves the room, blushing all the way up to his ears, and half-clutching his chest as though he feels as if he's had some sort of maidenly virtue plucked from him. Heismay flicks his ears, apparently more amused than bashful, though something about the curve of his lips is somewhat more smug than usual.)
Gradually, the Partisans aside from Eupha are convinced to leave (aside from Hulkenberg, who has continued to ferociously guard the door), and Will, who is now sufficiently "comforted," sinks back into his pillow. He is not so prideful that he does not allow Eupha to gently mop at his brow with a cold towel.
She makes as if to wipe down his body as well, but Will furrows his brow a little and bats at her as if his hand is a cat's paw. ]
Don't, Eupha, please... Edeni would kill me.
[ If he found out I was treating his sister like a common nursemaid, he means, but Eupha only shakes her head. "When the villagers on the island were sick, I would do this for them, too," she says solemnly, but she does relent, dropping the towel back into the bowl.
She looks towards Louis, at length. "Well?" she asks. "Has Lady Gruidae's book provided any enlightenment? I stand ready to assist you as needed."
The expression on her face is a little drawn, a little tight. Despite Will's good cheer, Eupha knows full well that his magla is still rather snarled and knotted. ]
[ it's oddly soothing to see Will interact with his friends, perhaps because he's been ill enough to be concerned over his comfort. it's odd for Louis Guiabern, as well, so much that a passing thought flits across his mind about how soft he's allowed himself to become. yet despite that, Will, stronger than him, does not compromise his strength for affection. it may be that fact, the one Louis is slowly allowing himself to realize, that is truly soothing.
the Partisans stay their welcome, then slowly begin to trickle out with the understanding that it's time for treatment. Louis expects some push-back from at least one of them, but it doesn't come. he's not quite sure how he feels about that, but luckily for him he has means of sucking down how he feels tossed into Will's condition.
the book is laid over the table, and Eupha comes to review the magla pathways. it's dissected over several pages, the information having been re-drawn and re-imagined over the centuries. they are intricate, beautiful works of art, showing the way magla moves between the blood vessels and dances around nerve endings. it even shows at which points the magla enters each organ, and the symptoms of what happens when the pathways are diverted. there are several yellow-edged, folded papers within the book, either adding to the list of symptoms or relaying unique patient cases.
"I did not know that such knowledge even existed ..."
Louis sighs, and somewhat blandly replies: "The elda like to keep most of their cherished knowledge to themselves."
Louis goes on, and doesn't linger too long on the thought. the book is in his possession now, and he's most likely going to deliberately (and spitefully) make it part of his own library.
"I believe that the king's former curse is causing restriction in the flow of magla in the physical sense. His body is receiving it as an obstruction, and thus the fever. Possibly due to his own anxiety, and physiology as an elda."
"Then we can clear it," Eupha replies. she gets the gist of it, anyway.
"It's not so different from creating humans," Louis says with clinical distance that makes Eupha shudder. she shakes it off, focusing on how his light fingers glide across the page, tracing the pathway that the magla should be taking. in all honesty, she does not want to think about how she's alone with Louis in this, and just how it will help Will.
Louis presses his palm to Will's forehead, brushing back his bangs and holding the contact. ]
This treatment will not be kind to you.
[ it is a warning. he knows that Will is strong, and his pain tolerance is rather high, but it needs to be said. more so, Louis' concern lays in that it may remind Will of something else: how he was violated on the steps of the Grand Cathedral. ]
[ Will has a way of closing his eyes and leaning into Louis's touch whenever it's offered, as though gentle contact alone will soothe his aches and pains. This case, too, is no exception. he doesn't seem to have any shame about cozying up to Louis in front of Eupha; maybe it's because Louis has already primed him to act without shame in front of his friends. Regardless, he looks relaxed as he states with confidence: ]
I can endure.
[ The memory of the pain that seized him outside of the Grand Cathedral no longer disturbs him as it once did — indeed, it stopped hurting him the day he accepted his true identity as the kingdom's prince. And, of course, he has forgiven Louis. If he can forgive his people for their initial rejection of him, how could he not forgive Louis?
...Though, in a different way — the level of trust needed for this is nearly painful. His friends would surely ask: how could he forgive Louis? How is it that he sits here now, fully willing to give control of his body over to a man who previously used it, twisted it to his own satisfaction?
Will offers no answers. He leans back into his pillow and relaxes his shoulders, looking for all the world the way he did when he was only a vision in the Farsight Mirror, caught in eternal slumber, the invalid who was as good as dead to the masses and could only dream of a better world. Do your worst, he seems to be saying to Louis. ]
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If the timing is not to your liking, I could withdraw the acceptance until it's more reasonable for you.
[ now he's just teasing, and he looks a little smug about it.
perhaps it's so sudden, because Louis realized that they were already acting the part. sitting there talking about stewards, skirting responsibilities, and the state of the capital upon return. he fell so easily into it, because Will made it easy. with that, he was certain that he could see himself here, and that he would rather not be anywhere else. even though there are many things he has not worked out for himself yet, including his purpose and where he now fits in this world, he doesn't want to let go of moments like these. he could have more, and the king belonged to the kingdom, in a way, but now the king could belong to him too.
Will will change as well, and Louis can't say he isn't curious to see where life takes him, and what kind of person he'll become again and again.
showmanship mattered, and symbolism mattered, especially to someone like him. where else would he get a better chance to accept? there's no where else that it would mean more. ]
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[ Louis is teasing, and Will is easily teased, it seems, at least by the gloriously beautiful man he's chased across the continent for an entire year and change, and loved enough to bring back from the brink of death despite everything. Still blushing furiously, he lurches forward and presses himself into Louis's body, hugging him around the waist and squeezing him tightly.
It seems Will, too, doesn't want to let go. ]
I...
[ He buries his face fully into the man's chest. After everything that has happened, who would have ever thought they'd be like this together? When Louis proposed that they rule his new world as equals, did he ever think it would be like this? ]
I wanted you more than I ever wanted the throne.
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Then you will have me.
[ as if Will doesn't have him, already. somewhat amused, he says: ]
You're holding me as if I'll disappear again.
[ while Louis can not promise that he won't run off on occasion, he knows where his place is now. it took a long time, pain and grief, rejection of peace in pursuit of glory, and one blood battle after another, but he made it.
somehow, he made it here. ]
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[ Or so Will mumbles, holding Louis ever more fiercely now that his hug is being accepted. Louis's hand feels warm on the back of his neck, even through his gloves. As he squeezes, he suddenly becomes aware that Louis's waist is every bit as small as it looks, despite the broader expanse of his chest and shoulders. Ah, young love... coupled with healthy infatuation. ]
I'll be a terrible husband if I let you disappear a third time.
[ He says this and then flushes an even more intense pink. Evidently, the prospect of actually becoming Louis's husband is still a little dizzying for him. But he'll get used to it, surely!
Husband! He's going to be Louis's husband! ...This is somehow more miraculous than his becoming king. ]
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You'd best keep your gaze upon me as we head back to the gauntlet runner.
[ a hand presses to the back of Will's head as he flattens his cheek against his chest. such fierce affection in him – Louis wonders where it comes from, or if it just naturally spills out of him like a spring. Louis makes things look easy, as his confidence is flawless, but there are some things that Will makes look easy, too.
this isn't that bad; not at all. he could get quite used to it. ]
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He closes his eyes, allowing himself to be cradled by Louis. He lets himself fall into the sway of the man's heart. ]
You say that like I can take my eyes off you at all...
[ They do leave that meadow of flowers behind eventually. Perhaps Will's great selfishness is that he wanted to claim that ancient forest for himself, but that isn't such a terrible crime, for a king. Louis would have seen it razed and ravaged, in the worst depths of his madness. Now, at least, they have the comfort of knowing that it will stay there, pristine and undisturbed, until the next time that they need it again.
Neuras is only all too happy to take them up the coast. He chortles and cackles his way through the blissful five-day drive, seemingly twice as delighted for the fact that he knows their friends must be in a whirlwind of distress back at home in the capital. (They could fly, but Where's the fun in that? You've got to take the scenic route for a honeymoon! he'd said, despite Will's protests that this was not, in fact, a honeymoon.) For the first time in his life, Will sees the ocean on this end of the continent, so like and yet completely unlike Brilehaven's sparkling waves. The waves are stormier here, white with seafoam and rage. On the northwestern end of Euchronia, the seabeasts rise up from the ocean and spread their fins to soar like birds through the sky.
They manage to have a little adventure of their own. A small hamlet, so far from Grand Trad that they had only barely been aware of the election and Will's subsequent ascension to the throne, has been terrorized by a horrific human sea creature; together, Louis and Will succeed in luring it out with a series of smaller kills. Privately, Will marvels at his fiancé's sheer destructive force: even without magla at his command, Louis does the bulk of the damage in the ensuing fight, all deadly elegance with a simple blade.
That being said...
No one wants to hear about their triumph over the human seabeast when they get back.
"You could have died!" Hulkenberg catastrophizes, as if the king isn't the most powerful man in the country, traveling with the second most powerful man in the country. "You could have been killed! How could you leave without even a word to Gallica —"
"Technically, I did say something to Gallica..."
"Even so! And Neuras! That old fool! When I get my hands on him I'll, I'll — argh!"
Will blinks and smiles through it, still privately marveling that Neuras somehow managed to make a run for it once the runner was parked in its usual royal waiting area again. While Gallica flits around the king's head, as if inspecting him for any damage Louis might have rendered to him, Strohl finally asks the question that any sensible person would want to know:
"So, wait," the clemar general asks, running a hand through his hair as if trying to wrap his head around what's happened, "why did Louis leave without saying anything to anyone in the first place?"
"Oh," Will says, before Louis himself can get a word in. "Because — first of all, we're getting married."
...
Will does not ask if the ensuing shrieks came from Gallica, Hulkenberg, or Junah. It probably wasn't Eupha. It might have been Strohl? It was a lot of voices at once. ]
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when not above deck, he finds a book from the bookshelf, and to his credit, goes through the entire thing on the trip's time. when filled with Will's companions, it's always bustling while they go about their business during their trips, and with Louis it's far quieter. certainly it's because the warm bustle of several bodies is replaced with just two, but also because Louis seems to be happy to bask in the pages of whatever he gets his hands on. like a cat trying to find the best spot to sleep, it takes Louis a few tries to find his favorite reading spot: the table too rigid for him to lean back in the chair, the bed tubes too stuffy (he's rather tall), and the deck too windy (as much as he likes it out there, it's far too turbulent during the gauntlet runner's movement). finally, he picks the squishy old seat on the lower decks. somehow looking oddly elegant against the dingy exterior – it is, partially due to Will (or entirely due to him), far cleaner than it was when the gauntlet runner was first boarded. when Will comes to share the time reading, Louis only has to move an arm or uncross his legs to make room, hardly bothered by the intrusion. (on the way back he even finds places to absently put his hands while his nose is in his book, teasing Will's hair between his fingers as he reads.)
the coast is glorious and rainy, littered with whirlpools and rocky ledges. the trees are tall, their roots so hardy that they've clawed their way into the rock to survive. it's appropriate, Louis thinks, when he sees them, in a way he never really looked at them before. he's relieved when they run into pods of monsters, and then another, and another. the pent up frustration he has had seems to dissipate into the mist surrounding them when he's in battle, even without the aid of magla. the human is a welcome occurrence, and while it takes them only a moment to figure out how to balance themselves in battle, they fall into it so quickly that Louis would consider their coordination more like a dance than not. they treat with the hamlet afterward on bitter beer and an chowder made from various creatures from the coast (Will mentions that Hulkenberg would love it).
Louis' discipline with the blade comes as a second nature, as if it were some sick extension of his arm. when they get back to the gauntlet runner, Louis takes it upon himself to perfect Will's grip. he's certainly not an amateur, far from it, but there's a sort of beauty in the way Will fights that some adjustment would make extraordinary.
"Loosen your grip," he says, his chin just above Will's shoulder, voice low. He's so close that his lips almost touch his ear. there's a palm pressed to Will's lower back as Louis addresses his posture. "Relax your shoulders, you won't drop the weight. Good, just like that ..."
(does Louis know how he's coming off? well, it's difficult to tell.)
when they arrive back in Grand Trad, they meet the explosion that Louis expected. it's rather entertaining to watch them all fuss over him, especially since both the king and his fiancé had cleared the beasts and humans on a few miles of coast not days before. for the most part he rests his arms over his chest, listening to Hulkenberg, then Junah (who's eying him suspiciously, as if she knows something), then Strohl.
when Louis speaks, there's a certain command to it. it does, in some ways, rub the Partisans the wrong way, but to Louis' credit, he doesn't seem to care.
"While your king has evaded his first assassination attempt, there will be others. We have thwarted the plans for the head of the Igniter Consortium only for now, but only for now. An elda on the throne still has far reaching implications, and there still would be those that would use such to their advantage – prejudiced or not. My name and guise will not only be cause for quelling those ambitions, but also for those seeking some comfort.
"It is far to your advantage, as well as it is to mine – though I would believe more for you."
the glares he can take, because he knows he's got the right of it.
after their exchanges, most of which are still cautious, Junah pulls him aside and points directly at the center of his chest. "There's more to this then you're letting on," she accuses, bright eyes narrow. "I know it. You let those rumors fester because they were beneficial to you, and there's benefit to you now, isn't there? Don't you dare bring hurt him."
it would be the first of many confrontations of the same. ]
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and it's true, while not all of Louis' problems have been resolved, he seems pointedly less restless. it may be due to the engagement, or the vacation (and somewhere to put his blade), or possibly the conflict that the arose due to the betrothal. there's a familiarity with being the one to blame, and he certainly seems to take the conflict in stride. there are other confrontations that the Partisans have with him, and who could blame them, really? even Louis, who was wrongly targeted by their mission, still became something monstrous in the end. by far the most threatening is Heismay, but he's also one of the more reasonable, rather than walking away with conflict, there is a tentative understanding between the two of them.
Louis does get to work in his own way – while he may not have power anymore, he knows how to scratch together some semblance of a working network. he starts with something small: he means to find his books, the rarer ones first, and then the rest, afterward. Fidelio has a handle on it, and after a few days, the first begin to come in. it feels good to have them in his hands again, and when more make their way into the palace, he begins leaving choice texts for Will to find in his chambers after his duties.
there's still no announcement yet, as things are, well – messy would be an understatement. it was best to work things out personally before bringing it to the public's attention. relations between the Six Partisans and Lord Louis is tense at best, and the victories Will wins in soothing them only seem to last a few days.
"They will have to adjust themselves to it," Louis says on a night when they both could share a meal. "You are their king, and even if it's a decision they don't like, it's still yours."
during talks about how the announcement will be planned, who first should get the message (certain nobles could be quite finnicky to who gets information first, they don't want to hear something from the rumors in town), and what the timing would be to the council and Sanctist Church, Louis takes notice that Will looks pale. the magla suppressors make it difficult for him to make the details of it, but he's tuned into Will enough to know something is not right.
he stands up before Will collapses, the eyes in the room going to him, before they're back on Will. the rest happens quickly, Hulkenberg is called, who frantically commands the guard to take their king to his quarters, and then for the doctors. the room is scrambling, and Eupha takes off after the guards to follow Will, certainly on the same notion that Louis had.
with his eyes narrowed, he trails behind group. his heart is pounding in his chest, up against his eardrums, only betrayed by his easy stride. ]
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(Nearly all of the Partisans see no value in the idea of Will marrying Louis. Gallica only buzzes in confusion until Will finally admits to her that he truly does love the man. Junah, Eupha, and Hulkenberg seem actively decided against it, perhaps in no small part because all three would have better access to the kinds of stories that arise when frail princesses are married to tyrants — though of the three, Eupha somewhat surprisingly seems the most amenable to being persuaded about the idea. Strohl seems to flip-flop in his position, occasionally mentioning that he sees the political merit in it, then casting his golden-brown eyes to the floor as he contemplates the prospect of a country with the man he nearly sees as his father's killer on the throne. Fidelio and Basilio generally treat the idea as more of a joke than anything else, though Will has detected flashes of frustration in Fidelio's yellow eyes, as though what truly frustrates him is the idea that perhaps he never understood Louis at all.
Only Neuras knows the way that Louis and Will had curled up with each other on the runner, each laying on the other's warmth, turning idle pages, fingers carding through silken hair. Only Louis knows the way that his warm hands and low whispers made Will tense up, aching for more than careful touch.)
...Heismay does come to threaten Louis one night.
Or perhaps that's not quite his objective. The eugief comes and goes near-silently; it's an easy thing for him to be found waiting for Louis to emerge from the bath in his quarters, hanging upside-down from the ceiling, arms folded in his usual eugief way.
The man doesn't bother with the usual sort of intimidation before an interrogation — only launches into his remarks. "I know not whether you still have designs upon this nation," Heismay murmurs in a quiet, low voice, "but I have taken the measure of you, Louis. You do not strike me as the sort of man who would claw his way to the throne through seduction and marriage. You strike me as the kind of man who is too prideful to do that."
A pause, and then his gleaming red eyes vanish completely from sight.
"My advice to you — not as your enemy, but as an older man who once lost what he loved — is this: cherish him. Every moment you have with him. You and he deserve better than what men like me were given."
Regardless — Will knows nothing of this. The following morning, he looks pale, a little disoriented. He tries to hide it from his friends, particularly Gallica, who is thinking the same thing he is: He looks the way he did when he was suffering from Rella's curse.
He manages to shake off the blur in his vision, powering his way through breakfast, and then a tedious meeting featuring traders from the merchants' guild, come to protest wages withheld by their employers. During the strategy meeting with his Partisans that comes afterward, when the idea of the engagement with Louis is brought up again, he finally finds it in his body to relax, let his shoulders slump, heave a sigh —
— only to collapse outright from the chair in which he's seated.
Everyone stands up in a panic after that.
Eupha is already channeling an Archetype of the Healer line as Hulkenberg calls for a doctor, but the issue affecting his magla, the mustari reports soon afterward, is not one that an Archetype can solve. The ordinary doctors quibble about what ails him: An illness? An infection? Another curse? (There is some talk of bloodletting; another doctor says the leech enthusiast should be fired.)
Basilio mutters under his breath about how he doesn't like these kinds of doctors; Strohl admits readily that they should have done a better job of cleaning house in the medical department. The royal doctors were the ones who let Hythlodaeus V become bedridden, but no one had thought to remove them until Will came down sick. ]
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there are a few glances passed his way, and he knows the question that is now repeating like a mantra in all of their minds: did Louis Guiabern do this? for a moment he hates all of them, viciously, displacing his worry for rage.
"It could be that another curse was ..." the doctor is looking at him, out of the corner of her eye, uttering the thought into being by breathing life into the words.
that's it. Louis is done watching them scramble like rats in their ignorance, flitting around the king how he remembers them flitting around Hythlodeaus in his bedridden grief. from behind the mingle of people that have made their way into Will's private quarters, Louis steps up.
"Leave," he demands, voice sharp. "Now."
"With all due respect, only the –"
"Leave or I will drag you out."
the doctors all look at one another, some of their mouths agape, others trying to find words to argue where Louis left no room for argument. now threatened, they all leave the room, Basilio muttering under how it's easier to breathe now. Hulkenberg looks like she wants to retaliate Louis' demands, but only glares at him for now.
"You, General Strohl. There's an eldan village to the east, take the most trusted of your soldiers and seek Gruidae. She has a text that details magla flow in the body. Travel through the night if you must and do not rest until your return."
"This isn't a curse, is it?" Gallica asks, already knowing the answer. "It's something else."
Louis nods, briefly, and from Will's side, Eupha does too. pulling glove off of his middle finger, he presses a palm to Will's forehead. he's hot, and Louis can only trace the flow of the magla like a dull feeling in his nerves.
"Remove these," he says to Eupha, holding out his wrist, adorn with the bracelets.
"I'm ... sorry?"
"I can't be of use to him if I'm still chained. You can shackle me again after this is over if it comforts you."
"You cannot be serious," Hulkenberg interjects. Eupha's inquiring gaze meets hers. Right now, her anger seems to match Louis', out of both terror of failure and concern for her beloved prince. "Will you still be a threat? It's not far from here that you drove a blade into the king's chest."
"And it's not far from here that you chased a culprit of whom you convinced yourself was me. I'm here because your king wills it – you either trust his judgement or I will find another way to shatter these chains without your aid."
"If you mean treachery, I swear by my blade, Louis Guiabern –"
Eupha's removing the bracelets, taking them gingerly from Louis' wrists and into her hands. her expression is mixed, she certainly doesn't trust this man with much, but the two of them have reached an understanding on Will's condition.
"If you use too much magla, I'll know." that is her only warning.
watching Will for a moment, Louis notes how small he looks cradled under the covers, a wince crossing his expression.
(Basilio and Fidelio glance at one another. "He's still got it, eh? I haven't heard him this mad in a long while. Still a bit rough, though." Fidelio grins.) ]
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Junah isn't present in the room — she's off at the Mage's Academy again today, and as she doesn't have the runner, she can't herself teleport over — but Heismay watches the group in her stead for a few moments, his bright eugief eyes nearly as glassy as her brilliant nidia irises. After another moment, he disappears. "I'll go with Strohl," are his last remarks before they set off. It's likely a thought with some strategy behind it; Heismay was always their barrelman whenever they were out on the runner together, and while Neuras likely won't need a second set of eyes to watch for enemies in the air, it's better for Strohl to not be the only combatant on the runner, all the same.
...
In his slumber, Will dreams.
It's not a very nice dream, but it's also a very disjointed one. He is human again, impossibly large, with curse-magenta magla surging through his veins. The little teeth monsters want to play hide-and-seek with him, but when he tries to step forward to find them, he accidentally crushes a few under his feet. He's very sad about this. He cries a little.
When he wakes, he's not quite so distressed, but he's vaguely conscious of yelling around him, an argument taking place. His brow furrows; he's still not fully awake. The teeth all seem very upset with him — or are they just upset over him? He can't quite tell...
His lashes flutter open; his eyes scan the room blearily. Did they return him to his own bed, or is this a bed in another room? His eyes scan colors, shapes; there's Eupha over there to his left, the Magnus brothers in the corner, Hulkenberg by the wall. Louis, close by his bedside, his long-lashed eyes positively burning with fury and — what seems like — ]
...Louis...?
[ His lashes flutter closed, then open again. He gropes weakly for Louis's wrist. The man's hand feels so cool on his forehead; can he move it to his cheek and neck too? It would feel so nice, so comforting... ]
Don't look so sad... I just had a bad dream, that's all...
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the change in Louis' voice surprises Eupha, who watches the two of them diligently. ]
Do you remember what happened?
[ he asks lowly, allowing Will to guide his hand with the slightest of touch. at the slightest twitch of his fingers, he glides his palm down his neck, offering some relief to the heat.
a little louder, he speaks to those behind him. ]
I need water, and someone get me Fermis Ointment.
[ Eupha takes it upon herself to rush back through the door to get Louis the supplies that he's asking for: she knows he'll ask for more as well, and she should start prepping for when he does. after seeing him touch Will, she has no qualms leaving them alone. it was all that she needed.
"Call for us when you need us," Fidelio says, dismissing himself with Basilio on his heels. Hulkenberg wants to throw another threat, but she doesn't. instead she leaves behind the two brothers to guard the door. it's a sensitive thing when the king is ill – it opens him to many other types of threats, and she needs to fulfill her duty her king (it also allows her to keep an eye on Louis), as well as manage those that would see him. ]
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[ Will mumbles in a quiet, tired voice. His magla is all out of sorts, coiling in frazzled knots, but Louis's guiding hands slowly pull things back into place where they belong. It won't cure the malady that ails him, not by a long shot, but at the very least, it will ease his suffering for a moment. Tension eases out of his body in slow increments, bringing his shoulders down, and his eyes ever closer to closed again. ]
I feel bad. They only wanted to play...
[ Eupha stumbles back into the room, carrying the supplies that Louis requested; she sets them on the bedside table with the brisk, efficient manner of a nurse attending to a doctor's orders. Perhaps she's not so unused to this as Will thinks she is; the people of Eht Ria looked to her as a priestess before this, so perhaps she really has seen her fair share of patients. And yet, this must be such a strange experience for her, some more lucid part of Will realizes dimly. She always looked at her Captain as a source of strength and knowledge about the outside world — now here she stands, seeing a new side of him, and of Louis. Watching her nation's leader in bed with the covers pulled up to his neck, mumbling to his lover in a sweetly boyish voice.
Weakly, Will's fingerpads press into Louis's knuckles, in a manner that would be insistent if it were just not so terribly light. He looks into Louis's eyes, seeking his attention; the look in his blue irises is both glazed-over and impossibly loving. ]
...If you stay here, you'll catch what I've got. And then they'll be alone again...
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[ Louis says with a heave of his chest. as each body leaves the room, the air yields, and the magla begins to disperse. Eupha keeps her head tilted, watching, as if she's keeping an eye on the flow of it from where she's standing. ]
It seems the nightmares are an symptom of the condition.
[ most likely from Will's anxieties, but Louis keeps that part to himself.
"Lady Gruidae said you came from a family of medics," Gallica says, as if she's suddenly recalling something that makes all of this click into place. "Charadrius, the name of your skyrunner."
"Yes, I remember now," Eupha replies. "That knowledge ..." ]
I don't have much of it, but I have more than those ignorant pissants that would rather indulge in archaic practices than aid their king.
[ there's a bite to Louis' voice, but it dies down again when he turns to the bedside to tend to Will. much to Will's displeasure, he has to remove his hand to apply the ointment: smudged just below his hairline, behind his ears, and Louis folds down the blanket and unbuttons the king's tunic to smear it over his chest, just above his collar.
"You're going to do what you can to help him, aren't you?" Gallica asks. she is, admittedly, still conflicted. ]
Are you truly asking me that?
[ it is some relief to her, who buzzes next to Will's bedside to put a little fairy hand on his hot cheek.
"He's burning up..." ]
We won't be able to do much until your General returns. [ Louis eyes Gallica, and then Eupha. he offers a slick smile that is more knowing than cheerful. ] As for you, your aid will be needed when they do. If I were you, I'd get a good rest in, and perhaps a bath. We may be in for a long night.
[ Eupha nods, hesitating, and then leaves on his suggestion. there's not much that they can do now, especially since Louis has sent all the doctors away. at least there will be no bloodletting tonight. ]
You too. [ Louis says to Gallica. ] I'll stay here at his side. There are those that would take advantage of this ... opportunity. You did this aboard the Charadrius, did you not? A little reconnaissance could go a long way, even within the walls of the palace. Find those that saw him in such a state, see if there are rumors beginning to circulate.
[ at first Gallica doesn't seem to want to leave, but then she does, with a new sense of duty. she's getting rather good at these little missions.
Louis turns back to Will. finally, alone. ]
Tell me where the pain lies.
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Louis's question reaches his mind after another moment. It's so hard to think, suddenly, and he can't quite seem to understand why — how did his fever get so hot, so fast? Or has it been this bad for the past few hours, in a way where no one else quite noticed, or could only suspect something wrong?
...Now that his friends aren't around, and he doesn't have to be strong for them, Will slumps further in the bed, his head lolling slightly to one side where he rests on the pillow. His sheer exhaustion finally shows on his face. ]
I don't know... everywhere. I... I ache everywhere. Down to my bones.
[ With considerable effort, he takes hold of Louis's hand again, cradling it as if it would be a great comfort to him. Still weakly, he presses it to his sternum, right below where Louis applied a dab of cooling ointment. ]
Here... where the curse hit me. In my chest, through to my back... It hurts.
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(he's not quite sure if he stationed himself at Will's side out of concern and affection, or if it seemed the most reasonable conclusion. if there were someone who meant to take advantage of the king's illness, they'd have to get through Hulkenberg, Basilio and Fidelio, and then through him. if they got through Hulkenberg, Louis reasoned, it was because she did not have the propensity for extreme violence that he did. then he would kill them.)
Louis' strength was never control, quite the opposite, instead he seemed to know exactly how to handle the chaos in his favor. ]
Your body still remembers.
[ and most likely always would. Louis' hand wanders up his chest to the point of pain, his face blank in concentration. ah, yes, the magla was a tangle there, as if it were trying to retrace the edges of an old wound, forcing it to reopen. for Louis, it's remembering the opposite of the outcome of his own human experiments, and applying the technique and spells differently.
it's like untangling a ball of yarn tied in knots: easier to create than unmake. ]
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[ ...He's gazing at Louis like he wants to eat him.
This is absolutely not the right time for Will's hindbrain to be thinking about the weight of Louis's hand on his lower back!
Though he does at least look sufficiently charming: eyes glossy, cheeks flushed, skin hot. If it weren't for the slightly pale cast to his olive skin, he'd paint a tempting picture of a king in need.
Regardless — he's not in good health right now for the need that he may be craving. He does shiver a little as Louis's hand slides towards his core, where Rella's curse would have ravaged his heart for the last twelve years; his flesh is in good health, but his magla is all a-tangle. Louis pulls it loose, bit by bit. The act of healing him is only slightly less difficult than what Will would have gone through when he spent a full day weaving the incorporeal strings of Louis's flesh together, forming him from the remnants of his shattered magla.
For a sick person, he does at least seem quite happy to have Louis's attention right now... ]
I like you so much...
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at first his head tilts, and then a sort of amused smile passes his face. if he didn't center himself somewhat, he realizes that Will's expression would have him thoroughly seduced. ]
You hardly have the strength to be bedded right now.
[ sorry, Will's horny thoughts.
Louis does guide his hand across Will's chest, along the soft dips in sensitive skin, taking note of the beat of his heart. he can only slightly shift the magla, as he's not familiar with what it should look like (only how to mess it up). it seems to be soothing him, at least, though Louis can't tell if it's the spell or the touch.
with the Partisans busy, and most likely off to allow them some time before someone reports back (he assumes Gallica will be first, and he doesn't exactly mind being caught by her) or Will's condition changes, he shifts Will just slightly to slip into bed next to him. being taller, his weight creates a dip in the soft mattress, though it's certainly large enough for ten Wills. he does have to rearrange the king slightly, as he's too weak to do it himself, but he rests his hand on his collar, keeping watch of his condition.
then, like an overly large cat, he settles. ]
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He hasn't forgotten about what they did to each other, but there's no reason to linger on it, either. Louis is with him, doting on him, hasn't left his side. There's something inherently soothing about Louis's scent, the weight of his body, the feel of his skin.
In vague bursts of color and image, Will dreams of being snuggled up next to a giant Plateau. When he tries to move, Plateau bats at him with one paw and pulls him closer again.
After some few hours, Gallica does come back, with the very faint sound of twinkling that heralds her adjusting her magla to be perceptible to most people again. "Louis? I'm back. How's — oh!"
She cuts herself off. As soon as she flies into the room and sets eyes on the way Louis has curled up over Will's body, protective as a chimera with its pups, Gallica claps a hand over her mouth and immediately makes herself scarce again. Whether or not Louis stirs is irrelevant. Perhaps she's gone to report what she saw to Eupha, who may still be contemplating Louis's gentle touch in her own quarters, and how little she truly understands the man who may soon be marrying her king.
...
At length, Strohl returns. Having shed his general's cape and armor for the slightly dusty traveling coat that carried him through the initial campaign to defeat Louis, the young clemar man doesn't jostle and jingle so much as he strides into the king's bedchamber, Gruidae's book in hand. Heismay and — for whatever reason — the Magnus brothers follow not long after.
"Louis," Strohl says, as if calling out to a friend — unintentionally blustering, voice just slightly too loud. "I've got the book." ]
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Louis laughed when Will asked him if he would've been a healer. that knowledge of magla that his family had passed down had only been used for his own destructive means, and never for the use it was intended for. this is the first time he had ever thought to use it that way – or, rather, was forced to use it that way. healing is much harder than destroying, and requires far more of his concentration, but he finds the effort worth it to see Will sleeping soundly for at least a while.
out of the corner of his eye he catches Gallica, but she quickly excuses herself from the room without a word.
eventually, Louis does have to untangle himself from Will, though he knows there will be protest. there's ointment to reapply, as his fever hasn't budged, and thirst to alleviate: both Will's and Louis'. with a firm hand, he guides Will to sit and drink, urging him to take one more sip on the basis of "you'll need to keep up with me later." that's how Strohl finds them, with Louis keeping Will steady with one hand, and holding the goblet with the other so Will can tip it toward his lips. at first he doesn't acknowledge him, but when Will finishes and Louis settles him down again, he gets up from his bedside. ]
Good. She didn't protest, I take it? She does like to sit on useful knowledge.
[ there's a little drawl to his voice that he usually kept under wraps, given the circumstances of his own political campaign, but there's no reason to hold back now. Louis liked the command in his voice, rather than the cattiness, but both were there depending on his mood.
Strohl takes a look between them, then shares a glance with Heismay.
"I told her it was for the king." ]
Wise move.
[ Louis says, and Strohl doesn't seem to know what to do with getting direct praise from Louis Guiabern. it's enough for Louis to pluck the book from his grasp and leaf through it.
then comes the other questions he knew were coming.
"How is he?" ]
Stable, for the most part. His magla is an unintelligible web that is causing him some distress. The nightmares have subsided, as long as the threshold of stress remains at a minimum. You can go see him, if you'd like.
[ Strohl just nods and takes a few long strides toward Will's bedside, still smelling of the night air.
Louis watches Heismay follow Strohl at a more leisurely pace, both of them watching each other out of the corner of their eye, though Heismay seems more calm now. well, he doesn't dwell on it.
instead he turns to speak with Basilio and Fidelio with getting the remainder of the supplies and calling for Eupha and Gallica – Eupha will be needed as an aid, given that she's the most gifted with magla being a mustari. Basilio makes a comment about how he's never "seen this side of Louis" that Louis decides to pointedly ignore in favor of finishing the business needed to heal the king. ]
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There's a real fear, deep in an anxious corner of his heart, that this might be the thing that finally claims Will's life, either because they only ever bought him a little more time from the curse that Rella admitted was killing her too, or because this is all some dastardly machination of Louis's. But it's hard to argue with the tender expression on that man's handsome face when Strohl walked in — and Fidelio and Basilio never described him as a great actor. He was many things before he died, but he was never particularly adept at lying.
...Sometimes Strohl suspects that he of all the Partisans knows best how their group is largely held together by Will. Maybe it's because he's been with Will the longest; maybe it's because he's usually the fastest to admit to his own faults and shortcomings. If the king died, he doesn't think they'd all fall apart — but the rifts between them would rise up again, and secretly, he's not sure that any of them are above infighting and petty squabbles.
When she found out that Will was sick, Junah had said, "If only Rella were still here!"
And then, for some reason, Heismay had drawled, "She never had the best track record of treating him, mind."
Junah had sort of — she hadn't gotten angry. But she'd sort of stuttered, in a strangely flustered and then broken-hearted way that Strohl had never seen from her, and then she turned on her heel and made up an excuse to leave. There's a part of him that sort of thinks that Heismay was being a bit of an ass about it, given the way Rella died in front of her; there's an equal part of him that sort of sees what Heismay was getting at, the way Rella had lied about everything, and wasn't without her faults, though they'd all agreed that Forden was at the heart of them. As for Heismay, Strohl hadn't pressed the old eugief on why he'd been so cruel. It's a small comfort to him that Heismay doesn't complain about the paripus anymore.
Still, he thinks. It wouldn't have happened if Will had been awake. Something about him makes the rest of them better people than they'd be without him, and part of that is scary, too.
Who would I be if I didn't have Will? he thinks.
And then, on a different topic: Louis would probably still hate Rella if she were still alive.
Sighing, he takes the few long strides towards Will's bedside, reaching out to the king with bare hands to check his temperature. "Hey, Will," he says softly, as if speaking to a younger brother. The tone of his voice is warmer and stronger than he feels at the moment. The elda's forehead burns under his palm. "How are you feeling?"
Will smiles, falling back against the pillows. "I'm okay," he murmurs softly. "Louis has been really nice to me."
Strohl lets out another quiet sigh of relief.
In the next few moments, Will is rubbing his face against Strohl's chest, ostensibly because he likes the soft material of Strohl's turtleneck sweater, and as the poor clemar turns redder and redder by the second, babbling awkwardly and glancing at Louis with some strangely guilty expression on his face — it is at least some relief that when Heismay steps in to help, Will also scoops the eugief up in a hug, squeezing and rubbing his face against the man's soft ears.
Gallica, who has by now materialized with Eupha, presses her small fairy palm against her face in exasperation. "What is he, charmed? Does someone have Patra? Can someone try Patra?!" ]
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then, he says, both to the red-faced Strohl and the Heismay whose ears are now framing Will's face: ]
Should you not comfort your king?
[ there is an aloof confidence that he oozes when he says that, as if the words were thick in his mouth. Louis is not certain when he fell into this – this sort of ... joking with them. still, as if unused to it, the whole room goes quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on Louis, the only noise a soft intake of breath from Eupha.
the room remains tense for a moment, and the Basilio cracks. it's hard not to laugh at the Very Serious expressions everyone is making. Fidelio cracks a semi-amused smile.
"The lot of you have got to get used to this."
one of the frustrating aspects of this entire ordeal is not whether or not Louis would harm the king, but rather the way in which he would. curses and poisons, while are in his toolkit of magla arts, are not his preferred method of battle. for Will, especially, who earned his respect enough for Louis Guiabern to become his partner, he would end at the tip of a blade – or, perhaps, Will would end him. they owe that to one another.
so, yes, he would hate Rella if she had lived – he does still hate Rella now. it wasn't her that ruined his life, but she was a stark reminder how the church viewed any combatant. she was someone seen as pure, saintly, and then in contrast, he was the power-hungry aristocrat.
just as Louis has settled in his joke, he notices a flap of wings in front of his face, and a fairy buzzing around his head.
"You can't – you just can't joke like that with a straight face! Not when you're you," Gallica is waving her finger at him.
is he being scolded? is she scolding him? so brashly, too.
Louis stares at her looking bright-eyed and a bit like he's never been told off like this in his life. ]
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It is Will, of course, who is laughing in a manner that is far too alert for someone who currently has his head cradled atop Heismay's fuzzy head and between his long, fluffy ears.
"...Hey!!!" Strohl blusters, having finally caught on. "You aren't delirious at all! You, you rascal — !"
It's some moments more before everyone realizes that Will has, at least at this juncture, been faking his illness; certainly he is still feverish, certainly that part can't possibly be faked, but he's not so far gone as to have become a monstrous cuddlebug for anything less than his own amusement. (And what a cuddlebug he is! Strohl is still beet-red as he leaves the room, blushing all the way up to his ears, and half-clutching his chest as though he feels as if he's had some sort of maidenly virtue plucked from him. Heismay flicks his ears, apparently more amused than bashful, though something about the curve of his lips is somewhat more smug than usual.)
Gradually, the Partisans aside from Eupha are convinced to leave (aside from Hulkenberg, who has continued to ferociously guard the door), and Will, who is now sufficiently "comforted," sinks back into his pillow. He is not so prideful that he does not allow Eupha to gently mop at his brow with a cold towel.
She makes as if to wipe down his body as well, but Will furrows his brow a little and bats at her as if his hand is a cat's paw. ]
Don't, Eupha, please... Edeni would kill me.
[ If he found out I was treating his sister like a common nursemaid, he means, but Eupha only shakes her head. "When the villagers on the island were sick, I would do this for them, too," she says solemnly, but she does relent, dropping the towel back into the bowl.
She looks towards Louis, at length. "Well?" she asks. "Has Lady Gruidae's book provided any enlightenment? I stand ready to assist you as needed."
The expression on her face is a little drawn, a little tight. Despite Will's good cheer, Eupha knows full well that his magla is still rather snarled and knotted. ]
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the Partisans stay their welcome, then slowly begin to trickle out with the understanding that it's time for treatment. Louis expects some push-back from at least one of them, but it doesn't come. he's not quite sure how he feels about that, but luckily for him he has means of sucking down how he feels tossed into Will's condition.
the book is laid over the table, and Eupha comes to review the magla pathways. it's dissected over several pages, the information having been re-drawn and re-imagined over the centuries. they are intricate, beautiful works of art, showing the way magla moves between the blood vessels and dances around nerve endings. it even shows at which points the magla enters each organ, and the symptoms of what happens when the pathways are diverted. there are several yellow-edged, folded papers within the book, either adding to the list of symptoms or relaying unique patient cases.
"I did not know that such knowledge even existed ..."
Louis sighs, and somewhat blandly replies: "The elda like to keep most of their cherished knowledge to themselves."
Louis goes on, and doesn't linger too long on the thought. the book is in his possession now, and he's most likely going to deliberately (and spitefully) make it part of his own library.
"I believe that the king's former curse is causing restriction in the flow of magla in the physical sense. His body is receiving it as an obstruction, and thus the fever. Possibly due to his own anxiety, and physiology as an elda."
"Then we can clear it," Eupha replies. she gets the gist of it, anyway.
"It's not so different from creating humans," Louis says with clinical distance that makes Eupha shudder. she shakes it off, focusing on how his light fingers glide across the page, tracing the pathway that the magla should be taking. in all honesty, she does not want to think about how she's alone with Louis in this, and just how it will help Will.
Louis presses his palm to Will's forehead, brushing back his bangs and holding the contact. ]
This treatment will not be kind to you.
[ it is a warning. he knows that Will is strong, and his pain tolerance is rather high, but it needs to be said. more so, Louis' concern lays in that it may remind Will of something else: how he was violated on the steps of the Grand Cathedral. ]
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I can endure.
[ The memory of the pain that seized him outside of the Grand Cathedral no longer disturbs him as it once did — indeed, it stopped hurting him the day he accepted his true identity as the kingdom's prince. And, of course, he has forgiven Louis. If he can forgive his people for their initial rejection of him, how could he not forgive Louis?
...Though, in a different way — the level of trust needed for this is nearly painful. His friends would surely ask: how could he forgive Louis? How is it that he sits here now, fully willing to give control of his body over to a man who previously used it, twisted it to his own satisfaction?
Will offers no answers. He leans back into his pillow and relaxes his shoulders, looking for all the world the way he did when he was only a vision in the Farsight Mirror, caught in eternal slumber, the invalid who was as good as dead to the masses and could only dream of a better world. Do your worst, he seems to be saying to Louis. ]
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