The Sole Prince

Be my guest. [part 2]

The two eventually make it back to the cabin, an unstable James trailing behind a bleeding Sage. Halfway through the walk, the captain had to start gripping the side of his stomach, the wound getting worse with every step. The prisoner is still in a state of shock, the entire fight unravelling behind his eyes in a blur, unable to process anything. But when they step into the room and the captain collapses onto the bed after slamming the jug of alcohol onto his desk, the prisoner finally sees the red stain growing on the captain's clothing. It breaks James out his trance. He rushes over to the bed that the captain is now laying down on, releasing small groans in pain.

"Are you okay?" James says in shock, unsure of what else to say.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," the captain replies in a low, pained tone, failing to veil his true pain. "I should be the one asking if you're okay," Sage continues, trying to sit up in his bed to look at James, now kneeling by his side.

"I'm fine," the prisoner says, brushing it off. "Wasn't the first time that happened."

"Doesn't make it any better." The captain groans. "I can't believe I left you alone in there. I—"

"You couldn't have known," James says, light as air, twiddling with his hands in his lap. Sage stares at him with worried eyes. "I don't want to talk about it." James is soft when he says his line, genuine and timid. Sage decides not to push the issue. "Let's talk about how you saved the day once again," James says, after a beat, attempting to raise the mood.

"I did, didn't I?" Sage jokes.

"Yes, you did. And you got stabbed in the process."

"Hey, it's not that bad."

"Yes, it is. Let me take a look," James insists, getting up from his spot on the floor.

"At least get me some of that booze I put on the table. We never even had a chance to drink it."

"Fine." The prisoner rolls his eyes and makes his way over to the desk.

"There are cups in my cabinet," the captain aches out, prompting the prisoner to grab two from the cabinet. He pours the alcohol into the cups, handing one to the captain once he's back to the bed. The prisoner takes a swig of his own drink, the warmth of the liquor filling his body. He stands at the edge of the bed and moves his hands onto the hem on the captain's coat, pulling the flaps away, revealing the white shirt underneath. The red is even deeper now, a sharp contrast against the white shirt. James makes a look of fear and concern. "That bad, huh?" the captain continues.

"I'm gonna take off your shirt, okay?"

"Be my guest," the captain responds as the prisoner works his hands into the captain's buttons, slowly but surely taking off the captain's shirt. The feeling of the prisoner touching his chest is enough to relieve the pain of the wound for a split second. It's addicting. Eventually, the prisoner is able to get the coat and jacket off, leaving the captain in just his pants on the bed. "Kinda cold, isn't it?" the captain adds, to which the prisoner replies by taking another sip of his drink. The captain shakes his own cup, revealing he's already done, so the prisoner fills him up again.

"Do you have any liquid in here that isn't liquor?" the prisoner asks sharply. "Like water?"

"I should have some in my cabinet." The prisoner nods, and makes his way over to the cabinet, quickly finding a closed glass container of what he hopes is water, a towel, and some bandages.

"Okay, so, uh..." James hesitates, unsure of himself.

"I trust you."

The prisoner blushes. "I'll clean the wound, and then I'll disinfect with this," he says, holding up his cup. "Then I'll wrap it with this," he says, now holding the bandages.