OUR SPOT // SkepHalo

Chapter 19

Warning: Mention of death, gore, blood, medication

     Their celebrations were short lived.

     Clay watched from the corner of the room, massaging his temples. The stress of having to make potions repeatedly over the course of several days was starting to exhaust him. He spent all his time in the castle infirmary, leaving only to get more supplies to brew more potions.

     However, Noa was beginning to develop an immunity to the potions. The doctors had sewn his injury closed, but the pain didn't cease. Clay had heard the nurses gossiping in the hall, saying his injuries were far more severe than they could treat. The pressure was on him, and he was forced to make stronger, more potent potions every day to accommodate Noa's never-ending pain.

     He knew that if he continued to add more untested ingredients, the potions would start to become more dangerous than the stab wound.

     Darryl had come in every few hours to check on the situation, each time he offered a sympathetic look to his friend. The King spent hours every day, simply sitting by his servant in silence. If Noa was conscious, they would talk. Clay always felt he was intruding when they did.

     The King was forced to go back to his room during the nights. Darryl fought with him over and over again, claiming they couldn't have the ruler of their kingdom falling weak because of the situation. As much as Clay knew it pained the brunette to say it, the kingdom needed him to be the King more.

     Clay had tried to leave for the night and get a decent amount of sleep, but it always seemed like something would go wrong the moment he tried. They'd send George to fetch him, spouting something about his latest potion running out or not working the way it was promised to. Then, he'd be forced to come right back.

     " Clay?"

     Clay looked up, startled by the use of his name. He'd never get used to how many people seemed to know him since he practically moved into the infirmary. He saw Darryl waving at him by the door and he relaxed. At least there was a familiar face to keep him sane. He stood up and walked into the hallway.

     He was greeted by the sight of a young man with dark hair and sun kissed skin. The man was attempting a small smile, but it was overshadowed by the sad look in his dark eyes. Dream raised an eyebrow, a little uncomfortable to be meeting a stranger while he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks.

     Darryl held out a hand and presented the man as he said, " This is Zak, the one you said you'd like to meet one day. He's got potential when it comes to fighting, so I might try and teach him a few things."

     " Zak," Clay repeated quietly. A grin crept onto his face. " You mean the cutie you met at the marketplace? Hello! You're much cuter in person!"

     Zak visibly flushed, looking anxiously between Clay and Darryl, who was now incredibly embarrassed. " Yes, this is Zak," he stuttered out. " Zak, this is Clay."

     The shorter man held out a hand, which Dream shook, pleased to find the man had a strong grip. " A pleasure, Zak. Darryl tells me all about you."

     Once again there was an awkward silence. Darryl put a hand on Zak's shoulder and lightly pushed him closer to Clay. " I have to get back to work, but Zak wants to see Noa. Could you watch him for me, he tends to do something stupid every time he's unattended."

     " Hey, I told you Mega was with me last time," the raven-haired male argued. Darryl rolled his eyes.

     " Mega doesn't count," he dismissed. He said a quick goodbye and walked down the hall. Clay watched him leave, wondering what work he could possibly doing at 10pm.

~~~~

     Darryl gently knocked on the door, balancing his tray in one hand. He heard a small sniffle on the other side and sighed, pushing it open himself. " Hey, I heard you weren't feeling too hot."

     " Really, and what gave you that idea?" Darryl rolled his eyes, walking over to the bed. His feet padded softly against the expensive carpet. " What do you want?"

     " Well, there's no reason to be rude," the brunette teased quietly. He worried if he raised his voice, the other might snap. " I brought you something."

     The King sat up, looking as if he'd just awoken, the bags under his eyes telling a different story. He seemed to brighten at the sight of his favorite cookies on the tray. " What? But why?"

     " You looked like you needed a little bit of comfort food," Darryl replied. He sat on the edge of the bed and passed the tray to his brother. The King stared at them, hesitant. He seemed confused. 

     " Why would you give these to me? After all I've done to you?" His voice was hoarse, like he was about to start crying again. A pang shot through the brunette's heart. There was something horrible about seeing his big brother on the brink of collapse, someone he idolized for years.

     " Because you're still my family, and I can't stand to see you this way," Darryl whispered, smiling. " They're your favorite. Chocolate chip and a dash of cinnamon."

     The King's eyes softened, and he glanced down at the cookies longingly. " I've been so awful to you. I should never have made you become a hitman. I should be the one protecting you."

     " No, it's okay," Darryl quickly added, trying to keep his brother in a good mood. " It was for the best, and you can't worry about your enemies and be king at the same time."

     " That's not true," the King disagreed. " And I continue to let you down, saying you have to fake your death. I wasn't thinking about you, I was just thinking about what you could do for me. I've been a horrible brother."

     Darryl said nothing, but he pulled his brother into a hug. They sat there quietly for a few minutes. Years of fighting and years of stressful thoughts, melting away with every breath. They pulled apart and, for the first time in years, ate as many cookies as they could. 

~~~~

     The guard nodded as another one came in to take his shift. The new guard looked around, checking for anyone else walking nearby. The halls were empty. He turned to the door he was watching and pushed it open. The room was dark, lit only by a fading candle. A man sat on the edge of a bed in a blood stained suit. He looked up as the guard entered.

     " Schaltt," the guard greeted. " I brought you crackers."

     The man snatched them away, eating them greedily. " I've been in this castle so long that I've forgotten what its like to eat on a budget."

     " You are the master of economy," the guard agreed. " But that's not why I'm here, risking my job, is it?"

     " No," Schlatt replied. " The time is nearing. The King is weak. Prepare yourself. Prepare the troops."

     The guard nodded. The suited man sighed, " But your job isn't done yet. There's still one thing keeping the King strong. You know what you have to do."

     " Yes," the guard said. 

     " The servant must die."