The Immortal Prince ✔️

23

Word Count: 2223

~Vaela

For a blissful, quiet moment, I'm not in pain, wrapped in a blanket of warmth.

And then it's brutally disrupted.

"Vaela....Come on Vae, wake up."

There are hands on my shoulders, shaking me frantically. Gasping, I sit up, spitting water out from my mouth, eyes flying open.

"What's going on?" I choke out, clutching my throat.

Hale is next to me, silver eyes wider than I've ever seen as he searches my face, hands clutching the edge of the bath tightly. He seems to click that I'm okay, his shoulders deflating.

He rests his head against the edge of the tub. "You're alive. Thank fuck."

"What happened?" I question, rubbing the blurriness from my eyes.

Memories cautiously approach me. I was sick, on the verge of death, and now I'm sitting in a tepid bath, staring back at a horrified Pureblood.

"You fell asleep in the tub. Your head was slipping under the water." He sounds breathless. Reaching behind me, I touch my wet hair, realising that he is right, I could have died had he not returned.

I blink, gazing at him. "You're back..."

"I just got back. Are you okay?" I'm so relieved he's returned, I could pass out. And now, I feel exactly as I did when he came to my home that day when I left the cave, and returned me back here. The assault of pain has diminished, leaving me weak and trembling.

"I feel okay now. I didn't before." I wince, remembering how excruciating that pain got. I was on the verge of wishing death upon myself.

Hale seems equally relieved, allowing him the softest laugh. "Mortals can't breathe under water, okay? No more sleeping in the tub."

"In my defence, I was very unwell," I mumble. The bath was meant to warm me, not potentially kill me.

"I'm here now, okay? And I'm not leaving again," he assures me.

Looking down, I run my hands through the water, before realising that most of my bubbles have simmered away, leaving gaps that expose my nakedness.

My legs immediately shoot up so I can hug them, covering my most exposed areas. "Oh..oh no, I'm naked."

"It's okay, I'm not looking." That may be true, but I see the purely male gleam to his eye. He's tempted.

"I need a towel," I say, nodding to the one draped over the counter.

He doesn't hesitate. "Of course."

I watch him unfold the towel and hold it out expectantly, as if I'm going to stand and reveal my bare body to him so he can't wrap me up. Absolutely not.

"Turn around," I demand, still clutching my knees to my chest.

He shakes his head. "I'm not going to do that."

It's clear he doesn't want me to fall, but I would rather that and split my head open then let him get an eye full of my bare body. Maybe that's dramatic, but I don't want him seeing me naked in this context.

"Then close your eyes," I grit out, the water starting to turn cold.

"Alright..." he sighs, obliging me.

Bracing my hands against the side of the tub, I start pulling myself up, ignoring my trembling muscles. Each time my body is overwhelmed with pain, my energy depletes, leaving me a shell of my usual self.