The Lioness Prince (A Larry Stylinson Fan-Fiction.)

Chapter 7 ~Stitches~

-Niall's Point of View-

"Your Majesty, how did this happen?" I question loudly over the constant conversation outside of King Zayn's door. I slam the door behind me.

King Harry whips around to face me with wide orbs, tears in his eyes. He stands from his seat, and the chair he was sitting in falls back and crashes to the floor.

I walk over and pick the chair up, setting it back down and wiping off any dust it could have collected with my white gloves.

"I don't know. He just blacked out!" Harry whimpers, and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Ed told me what happen, Your Majesty. He surely blacked out from loss of blood of his back," I speak, and he presses his long hands to his face, and his shoulders shakes violently.

"I didn't know it would hurt him so much as it did. I...I'm so sorry. I didn't know," he continues to cry through his hands, and I nod and walk over to him.

But instead of comforting him, I kneel down beside the unconscious older brother and reach out to find his pulse on his wrist.

The faint pattern of the pulse beat triggers my nerves, and I nod. "He's okay, faint pulse, but he will get better," I rub my glove-covered hands and sigh.

I turn to the other servants and raise my eyebrows. "Have we already started treating his back wound?" I ask, and one of the two nods his answer.

I look to the weeping King for permission to roll his shirtless brother over, and he sniffs and nods his approval.

I cleare my throat and securely grab a hold of King Zayn's right arm, and with my other hand I hold his connecting shoulder.

Rolling ever so slightly, I look up and down the sorry excuse of a repair, and shake my head and sighed. "This is... What am I looking at? Did a kindergartener do this? No, this is unacceptable." I viciously shake my head and slap the two servants across their cheeks. "This is unacceptable!" I yell as I shove them outside of the King's room.

The crowd of servants pull the two into their midst, and I slam the door seriously hard after them. "I can't believe you hired those two," I growl deeply, and King Harry's head shoots up from his hands.

"Excuse me, I get that you're just doing your job, but insulting my methods of hiring servants is beyond your limit," he replies harshly, and I roll my eyes.

"Do you want your brother to live or not?" I ask, and he puffs, but eventually nods. I nod as well. "Then I'll need your help."

"What do you need me to do?" The King asks, and I sigh and look back down at the dreadful pattern of stitches in the older king's back.

I lean forward and study the way the two idiots stitched his back, inwardly throwing up as I notice that some were already loosening, and others weren't going to last.

That's not good. Not good at all. I'd have their heads for suck reckless stitch-work.

"Well, " I bite my bottom lip and breathe in deeply. "These stitches are badly needled, so I'm going to have to take them out and replace them with better ones."

Harry nods with a scared look crossing his face. "Will it hurt him? He won't feel it because he's unconscious, right?" He asks, and I sigh and hand my head.

"The problem is, even with people who are unconscious, their bodies can still feel pain and intrusion. So his body is going to react to the stitching I'm going to be conducting," I slowly say in a authoritative tone, and Harry nods slowly along, taking in this information and wincing.