The Sovereign and The Sorcerer (Larry Stylinson - L.S.)

Chapter 20

Louis was delirious as he regained consciousness, eyes tired an blinking slowly. He refrained from trying to sit up, his mind catching up with the events and assessing the situation before reacting.

He was in his room, laying on his back on the bed. His nest was visible to him in the periphery of his vision, still rumpled from the last time he had shared it with the Prince merely to sleep. He would have to shred it, he realised with a pang in his chest, others must have seen his nest, compromised the sanctity of it. He would even cover his nest from Nadia, hiding it with a sheet, tucking it completely so she wouldn't accidently see it.

He tried to lift his fingers, closing his eyes in relief when he could. Albeit weak, his hands weren't permanently damaged. The bandages chafed against his skin, the tissue underneath was still exposed, but whoever had treated him had done a great job of securing his arms.

He could feel the magic thrum in his body, reaching out to his arms and leg and trying to heal them from inside. He wouldn't be able to use his magic until his body had repaired itself. It would take time, he had lost too much blood and there were only enough blood replenishers in his cabinet.

The bottom half of his left leg wasn't burning as it was back in the cell, it was most likely sedated so he wouldn't accidently jostle it.

He suspected it was either Miriam or Nadia's work, anyone else would have cut of the tissue from his leg, only they would know how to extract the poison and use his salve to preserve the skin.

Gemma must have found proof against Frederick in time, then, for him to be alive now. It still didn't clue him in whether they had stopped Frederick before he could go through with his plan.

He shifted his head, looking up at the ceiling, noticing how the figure next to him straightened in their seat.

"Louis," the Prince gasped, moving forward and holding Louis' hand in his, "My love."

He clenched his eyes, cursing his luck that it was Harry. Who else would it be? The Prince wouldn't have let anyone closer once he realised his mistake.

He curled his fingers around the Prince's hand, his touch always soothing Louis, even now when Louis was furious with him.

He sighed as fingers brushed through his hair, resting gently at his cheek.

"How are you, my love?"

"Terrible," he croaked out, wincing at the roughness in his throat.

Harry helped him sit up, arms holding securely around his shoulders and middle, propping the pillows behind him. He drank from the cup pressed to his lips, water stinging lightly as it went down.

He shook his head when Harry refilled the cup.

"I'll get you some food," the Prince spoke, already moving to the door.

"I'm furious with you," he told him, eyes watering against his wishes.

Harry sighed, turning back to him, "I deserve every punishment you wish to give me, but right now you need to eat. I promise we will talk later."

"Like you promised to trust me and protect me?"

Louis knew he had hit where it hurt the most, the Prince's guilt finally cracking through his tough armour.

He looked away, not liking the defeat in Harry's expression, as if he had accepted Louis would never forgive him.

"Fine, we'll talk later," he murmured.

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