Servienne (LGBT)

7-Feverish

A/N: I couldn't help but put this song in here, it just kind of slyly fits lol.

Also i lied about updating every few days, i love writing this story too much...

anywho, enjoy!

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  Why did it feel so hot? Why did it feel so cold? It felt so disgusting. His mouth was dry even when water ran down his throat; his skin felt dirty, all caked in sweat; his body wouldn't move, tired regardless of how much sleep he got. He turned this way and that, restless, for hours, nightmares taking a hold of his mind, nausea taking a hold of his body. Voices muffled around him frantically, footsteps always loud and every sound always sharp and booming, yet soft and lost to him.

    "Prince Aaron!"

    "I think he's waking...?"

    "It doesn't seem to be getting better."

    "It has been so long, will he ever recover?"

  The voices kept echoing on for days--or was it weeks? Months? He had lost track of the time. When was it that the fog began to lift? That he could breathe again? That the sweat stopped running as heavy and mouth less sticky, hydrated by the cold water that never stopped flowing? He knew not where he was or who he was when he opened his eyes. Everything seemed distant and forgotten. All he could hear was something about his fever haven broke and that he would recover. It all flooded back to him, who he was and where he was and why he was there. "That bastard," He wheezed, vocal chords burning as he spoke. His throat was as as dry as a desert, scratching like sandpaper with his words. He heard stirring around him, nurses shouting for help, people coming in and out, cold rags pressed along his body, someone fanning his face. Opening his eyes, light flooded his vision, and he had to squint his eyes nearly closed to be able to adjust.  He tried sitting up, but black spots exploded against his sight, and he collapsed back down, wheezing and grabbing his stomach which felt terrible, rocked with an awful nausea.

  He couldn't comprehend much for a long time, but he could recall throwing up four times within what he could only assume were hours by the sun's fading intensity. Only then could he fully open his eyes in the dim twilight. He looked about, finding his room in about the same shape as usual, except around the bed were a couple of tables with things like rags, bowls of water, and herbs. Of the four nurses at random places about the large room at that moment, one noticed his movement, sucking in a breath. "He's awake!" The nurses swarmed him, asking about how he was feeling and trying to get him to remain lying down despite his objections. He couldn't hear everything they were saying, some of it muffled out with his dizziness and his still fading delirium, but one of the nurses left, and after a while, a new figure burst through the doors. "Father...?" He couldn't do it anymore, and consciousness once again slipped from him, the darkness swallowing him whole.

  When he came to, the room was pitch black and the air cold in the early spring air. It was late into the night, he gathered, the room lit by the pale moonlight that came in through the open window. He sat up carefully, holding his head that pounded with a fierce headache. Even in the darkness, he caught the figure of someone there, and his eyes widened in surprise. His father, having sat beside the bed, must have fallen asleep at some point, chest against the mattress, face relaxed. A warmth came to Aaron at the sight. His father had been worried enough to wait there with him.

  Slowly swinging his body around, he let his legs hang off of the side of the bed, pressing his toes into the soft carpet as he stood, using the bedposts and furniture about the room for support as he dragged himself to the bathroom. The hot water hit him refreshingly as he cleaned himself of what had to be assumed was days or weeks worth of sweat and grime. It gave him a chance to think. He hadn't eaten or drank anything, so he must have caught something after being rendered so weak. He couldn't make stupid mistakes like that again, not just because of some man.

  His mind was taken back to Noll, seeing the now familiar dark green eyes, the mused charcoal hair, the tanned skin, the unbearable smirk. What a deplorable man, that was what he wanted to think. But instead, an awful, disgusting thought ran through his mind, one that he dreaded deeply. I wonder if he visited me too...

  He jolted himself from his thoughts at that, focusing on what he was doing. It must have been the hysteria from the fever still fading away. Turning off the shower, he wrapped himself in one towel and ran another through his damp auburn hair, wiping away the mirror steam to look at himself. His skin was incredibly pale and he could only imagine how he had looked like when he was at his worst. His stomach was caving in slightly and ribs showing, probably as a result of his forced starvation and then the sickness which would have sapped all the nutrients and energy from his body. He felt weak in his bones, and his eyes, usually glowing from the flecks of gold amongst the dark pine brown, seemed dulled and dead now. Pathetic, he sneered to himself. He did this to himself because of a fucking servant.

  Stepping out of the bathroom, his eyes snapped across the room to meet his father's own, glinting where they just barely caught the moonlight that silhouetted Erwin's body. Aaron sighed, running his fingers through his wet hair, sending water droplets sprinkling across the floor as he walked over to his closet, opening the doors to look through the expansive miniature room of outfits, not looking back at Erwin. "I appreciate your concern, but honestly, if you were going to fall asleep, do it in your own room," He said. From behind, his father chuckled, and a shifting sounded that he could only assume was him standing. "Aaron, you were out for eight days. Some of the staff thought you were..." Aaron suspected that Erwin's voice had gotten caught in his throat. Slipping on a dress shirt and leaving it unbuttoned, he went deeper into the closet to hide himself from Erwin before letting the towel drop, pulling on undergarments and casual trousers before stepping out, walking over to his desk, avoiding his father's gaze. "Dying? Well, I'm fine. Don't worry your high horse about it."

  "Aaron," His father said sternly. To this, Aaron complied, looking over at his father through the darkness. "You were dying. It was a miracle that your fever broke." Erwin rubbed his temples in irritation. "I was told that you weren't eating or drinking properly. Why?"

    No, don't make me tell you, he inwardly pleaded, but his father stared at him, waiting for an answer. Aaron inhaled a shaky breath. He had to lie. It was too humiliating. "It's just... Recently... I've been very keen on focusing on work. I have to deal with the western resistance to the new economic policies, so it's just been very time consuming. And with that group, the, what's it, Liberation Syndicate or whatever, I'm just trying to push ahead to make sure none of these become worrisome conflicts in the future. The very existence of even the slightest rebellion is dangerous, let alone a growing group of people with that mindset," He pointed out, praying that his father would accept the half-truth and not push for more. Erwin sighed in exasperation. "And if you drop dead in your efforts? It was not worth it to do this to yourself. Next time, just take your time. How are you supposed to help your country from beyond the grave?" His father's eyes examined him. "You look like hell, too. I am not permitting you to keep on with your work until after you have fully recovered. Do you understand?" Aaron gasped, slamming his hand on his desk. "But, father, I--!"

    "Enough! This is an order, boy," Erwin strode over to Aaron, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I've lost so much, I can't lose you too." To this, Aaron fell silent, and after a long pause, he nodded. "Alright. I will, father. I will." Erwin nodded, smiling gently before embracing his son, wishing him goodnight and leaving.

  Aaron sat there in the pale moonlight that was now inching away from the world, and out the window on the horizon, the sun peeked a sliver out from behind its bed, the sky turning pink as the dawn of a new day rose. He had to be smart from now on; he would get better and continue his work. No more distractions.

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A/N: dont worry, im getting to the good points, i just had to slip some plot points in and build some things up. next chapter dearest Noll returns, I just thought a father-son moment was needed.