Crow woke early that morning to gather supplies. He didn't want to have to face the prince and moving around cleared his head of his memories.
He hated memories. Why was it necessary to remember such pain?
The sun burned through the layer of fog and the leaves. Crow came back to the campsite with a dead rabbit and a pouch of berries for the prince when he saw it.
A massive silver stag stood in the middle of their campsite. The horses were nervously pawing at the ground. But Declan, the damned idiot, stood in front of the stag with his hand held out to the beast.
Crow's heart plummeted at the sight. He dropped the food and unsheathed his sword at his hip. The branches around him crackled as he broke into their camp and raced toward Declan. The stag spooked and reared upward. When it came back down, it shook it's head and toe points on one of its antlers sliced into Declan before Crow could reach him. The princes grey eyes turned to Crow and gave him the most pained look. Crow tossed down his sword and rushed to break his fall, gathering him into his arms and collapsing to the earth. The stag turned and leaped back through the woods but it was far from his mind as Declan's breath turned shuddery and panicked.
"What the hell where you doing?" Crow demanded. He meant to yell, to be angry, because he needed the prince to stay alive for his own sake, but it came out making him sound like small animal dying.
"It was your fault," Declan panted, chest heaving. Crow pushed the prince's golden curls back off of his forehead and stroked his clammy brow. Declan's eyes frantically bounced around until Crow dragged his fingers down to grip his chin.
"Declan, look at me," Crow said in the voice he used with his sisters when they were ill or wounded. "It's okay. You're going to be fine. I'm going to cut open your shirt so I can see how deep it is. Is that okay?"
Declan nodded.
"Okay," Crow nodded back. He shifted just enough to retrieve his knife from his belt and free both of his hands. He was all too aware of Declan's eyes on him as he cut open the fine material of his newly red shirt. It wasn't a bad wound. He'd seen worse. Far worse.
Working carefully and quickly, Crow cleaned the wound and stitched it back up using the supplies he'd brought with him. Declan had passed out as soon as he saw the blood oozing from his chest. Which made everything a lot easier since Crow had no way to sedate him and no way to hold him down.
It didn't take him long to sew him back together. All of the criss-crossed scars over his skin had been patched up by himself and as he looked down at his work on the prince's chest, Crow felt quite proud of his work. He smiled down at the prince, finally letting himself gaze at the boy. Leaning back on one arm, Crow reached out and dragged his first finger along Declan's jaw.
"You stupid bastard," Crow murmured to the sleeping form. He pulled his hand away and flopped down onto his back, staring up at the thick foliage above him.
They stayed there the rest of the day. Declan slept peacefully while Crow sketched and paced. Almost all of the pages of the worn sketchbook was filled with Declan. If anyone saw, Crow decided that suicide was the best option. Fucking men in the dark allies was one thing, drawing their face over and over was another.
At dusk, things stared to turn. A fever spiked and the prince began to thrash in his sleep. Crow's injury care knowledge stopped once the wound was sewn up and he began to panic. They were in the middle of the woods and had nothing. He couldn't lose him. He could't let him slip away from him.
Crow dropped down to the ground and lifted Declan onto his lap, cradling his head and rocking him gently. He had no idea what he was doing but it felt right. He stroked his fingers through Declan's curls and found himself humming the lullaby his parents would sing to him together on the days that Trystan would sneak him and his mother to the country they wanted their time alone. It was a while before he realized that Declan's eyes were open. He was still shivering but his features were eased as he stared up at Crow. When he saw his cover blown, Crow scowled down at the prince.
"No one will ever know about this," he murmured. Declan's mouth quirked into a half smile and then his eyelids slid closed again.
Leaned against the tree, Crow held Declan and hoped that he would make it through the night. He intended to stay awake to keep an eye on the prince but his eyes grew heavy and began to droop. Until a he heard a rustle in the bushes. Crow's head snapped up and he tightened his arms around Declan's shoulders. He couldn't see much in the dark but as he stared at the source of the sound, he began to make out the form of the silver stag. It stepped closer, the light of the small flame dancing off of iridescent flank.
"What are you?" Crow murmured, staring at the creature. It lowered it's massive head and took another step closer. It nodded it's head a few times, as if it was asking for permission. Unsure, Crow nodded back and the creature closed the distance. Slowly, the stag lowered it's head down to Declan. It touched it's muzzle to Declan's wound and Crow couldn't really see but he could've sworn the beast licked at the stitching. Then the stag stood before Crow and the sleeping Declan, stuck one leg forward and bowed over it. It straightened and looked directly at Crow. Still uneasy, Crow bowed his head as best he could over Declan. When he looked up, the stag turned a disappeared into the night.
For a long time, Crow just sat there and stared into the space where the stag had been. It wasn't until he noticed that Declan was cooling down that he stirred from his trance. The prince was covered in a cool sweat still but he no longer had a fever. Curious, Crow undid the bandages he had placed over Declan's wound.
Right before his eyes, the wound was shrinking. Crow had never seen anything like it. The angry red gash dried and shrank and turned pink and then white until it was hardly a scar. Gingerly, Crow ran his fingertips over the spot. Nothing. The prince didn't even flinch.
Despite the wound being completely healed, Declan slept. Perhaps more peacefully that he would've before. He stayed asleep in Crow's arms but the sell-sword couldn't fall asleep. His mind was blown from what he'd just seen.
