Liberté

Chapter 9 - No Such Euphoria

Harold's grip on him slackened and he nearly pulled Louis down with him when the prince tried to save him from crumpling to the ground for the second time that night. "No, you are not," he said, shaking his head determinedly. Louis kicked his shin but the drug must have dulled his sense of pain. He barely even flinched.

Yes, she is, thought the prince, beholding the lady's frown and the familiar shape of the eyes currently squinted in doubt. It was too dark to say whether they were the same shade as Harold's—perhaps darker. Then his gaze dropped to the ring adorning her slender fingers gracefully entwined in front of her. It was the ring. And as if sensing his staring, the lady covered her right hand with the other.

"You have seen it before, have you?" she asked. "My brother has its twin."

Harold's mouth moved, but no words came out. Louis, as well, could simply nod, beyond words for whole another reason. From the folds of her riding hood, the lady produced a packet wrapped in light-brown paper. "This is for him, as well, but make sure it is opened only after the letter."

This time Louis took it wordlessly. It was heavier than its thinness suggested, and he could feel a hard, round edge trough the paper as though its content had frames. "I shall look it to it personally, ma'am."

Appeased, the woman nodded, giving a signal to the coachman who let the anxious horses move forward, the carriage bumping towards them. The lady—or, as Louis should start to call her, Harold's sister—regarded them curiously one last time, eyes lingering on her brothers form but whether she really knew her blood relative stood just ten feet from her, Louis was unsure. Any recognition other than vague sort of interest did not cross her pale features.

The carriage came to a halt beside her, and a man sitting beside the coachman jumped down and opened the carriage's door for the lady. She climbed in, dress rustling in the sudden silence of the night, and tucked the riding hood better under her before the door was closed after her. The carriage took off, Harold's sisters eyes focused on them until it disappeared behind the corner of the street.

Fighting off a certain sort of odd feeling tightening his chest, he guided Harold back to the docks that Liam and Zayn had abandoned by now. Niall came to his help halfway up the loading ramp, and together they succeeded to get the inebriated captain back into his cabin safely.

Louis couldn't help releasing a relieved sigh as the captain's weight shifted away from his back, and the prince almost felt his crushes joints pop as his body went through that odd floaty feeling when the pressure targeted at one's body lessened considerably.

Harold seemed to be a hairsbreadth of seconds away from falling asleep when Louis took a seat on a chair beside his bed. "Stay here," the pirate pleaded, voice rough. "It wouldn't hurt. Even if it's all a dream."

He was still delirious. Obviously this cuddly side of him that laid his head against the juncture between his neck and shoulder was not truly him. So un-Harold-like. Still, Louis fought not to lay his cheek against those curls. Harold's eyes closed and Louis let him go as his sleep-languid body sunk onto the mattress of his bed.

The prince let him sleep, occasionally fighting the need to check whether he was breathing. The pirate was still pale except for his flushed cheeks, and his shirt clad chest rose very slowly, but steadily. Louis just simply sat there, letting himself be lulled into a false sense of calm just because of what the captain had asked and said during his, undoubtedly, rare weak moment.

Zayn, however, had not told him otherwise when he had poked his head through the door an hour or so ago to check on them. "No sneaking into dens anymore," he had told him, sounding almost relieved. "Liam said he's not gonna let me out of his sight. I don't doubt him."