“It’s only a scratch, it doesn’t hurt.” Ix shook his sleeve back to reveal a long score the length of Eric’s hand already welling up with blood. Eric had already yanked his cravat from the pile of discarded outerclothes without a second thought, one hand securing the end of the gray silk in place as he wrapped it tightly around Ix’s arm.
“What are you – ah. Yes, I forgot I couldn’t just heal it.” Ix scowled down at his offending arm as if wondering why it still dared to bleed. “Why are you still holding me?”
Eric’s face flushed red, but it was from anger and not because he was clutching Ixthan’s forearm. Probably. “Because keeping pressure on the wound is what makes it stop bleeding, you idiot.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, I’m sick,” said Ix, his eyes dancing with amusement. Gods, he knew how to make Eric jump straight to annoyed in a heartbeat, didn’t he?
“I hate you,” said Eric flatly. What was even more annoying was that Eric wasn’t allowed to get annoyed because Ix really was unwell, and really did feel like he was going to collapse from exertion at any given moment, if the sudden weight of Ix’s arm in his hands was any indication.
“Well, you definitely can’t speak to me like that.”
“Beg pardon. I hate you,Your Highness,” said Eric with an exaggerated drawl, dropping Ix’s arm and retrieving the weapons he’d let clatter to the ground. He was halfway out the door when he heard the now familiar thump of Ixthan falling to the ground. Gods fucking damn it.
When she finally got there, the healer mage carefully pronounced no change in Ixthan’s magical condition, only in his physical state, and left.
“She means you’ve been an idiot and overexerted yourself,” said Eric, just to hammer the point home. His arms were aching not just from the duel – gods, he hadn’t practiced enough recently – but because Ix was so heavy. He was grateful for Ruben’s interference, that more servants waited upon Ix now, but they still were not used to anticipating his every movement as they would with a regular royal position yet.
“All right, nurse,” said Ix from the bed. His face was a chalky white, his lips pale and when he blinked, his eyes fluttered as though he was fighting to stay awake. He looked so unlike himself that Eric could barely look at him. He’d seemed fine less than an hour ago. “Give me that, I’ll have it cleaned.”
Eric looked down at the stained cravat, crumpled in his hands, unnecessary now after the mage had healed Ix’s arm with only a moment’s magic. “It’s already ruined, don’t worry about it.”
“Eric,” said Ix patiently. Except, ‘patient’ was not a word that Eric associated with Ix. Any person who had gone through such a large change in their life would behave oddly, this was a thing Eric knew in his mind. He was behaving oddly, had done ever since his father had been arrested. And yet, he could not accept it from Ixthan, who had been the only constant in his life.
Eric’s mother had died early, his father had reclused himself and emerged an ugly shell of a person after that. Even Petra, as close to him as any human could be, was bound to leave him at some point and he was supposed to not only be glad for it but be the one who arranged it and found a good match for her. Ixthan, of all people, wasn’t supposed to change.
“I know you like that one, come on.” When Ix rolled his eyes and reached for it, Eric pulled his hand away.
He was being irrational, he knew it, but he could not stop himself. He thrust his favorite cravat into the fire and watched it burn. “I said don’t worry about it!”
Ix watched it turned to ash in mere moments, his arm still outstretched. He raised his eyebrows. “Now I know what it feels like, I suppose?”
“What?” Eric was already starting to feel ridiculous for having done that. Why couldn’t he tamp down on his erratic behavior right now? And why was it that he could put up with Ix’s jibes and teasing well enough, but allowing Ix to give him a moment of kindness – barely even kindness, basic politeness – felt too much like staring directly into the sun?
“Now I know how you feel when I insist on doing things my way even when everyone thinks it’s foolish,” said Ix dryly.
“No one thinks you’re foolish, you’re a prince,” said Eric numbly. He sat down on the edge of Ix’s bed. He had really liked that cravat. His mother had embroidered little vines at the edges. And now it was gone. “At most it’s… eccentric. Demonic. Excusable.”
“I think your reaction is excusable. Your father just died. You’re suddenly poor and depending on the charity of a monster, and half the court thinks you’re about to turn traitor. And I, your cherished prince, most precious friend and benevolent benefactor, collapsed.”
Eric snorted despite himself. A reluctant grin pulled at the edges of his mouth and he saw a matching one on Ix’s wane face. “You’re going to get better. You’ll just have to cope with being powerless like the rest of us for a little while until then.”
“Powerless, am I?” Ix jabbed two fingers into Eric’s side just beneath his ribs and with his other hand hooked his fingers into Eric’s collar and yanked him backwards.
Caught off guard, Eric toppled over immediately, flopping across Ix’s bed with a deeply undignified gurgle he couldn’t control. He gasped for air as Ix sought out his squishy, most vulnerable spots to tickle him. “Mercy! Mercy, Ix. Gods, you’re insufferable.”
Ixthan brushed back the curls flung loose across Eric’s face. “And yet, you suffer me.”
Eric was all too aware of how close together they were lying. His shoulder pressed against Ix’s chest, his hands clutching Ix’s uninjured forearm as he tried to stop the tickling, the brush of Ix’s fingers against his head. It would be so easy to lean in to it. He was already fighting the dip of Ix’s mattress, the way it pulled him to roll towards Ix. He swallowed, the words unexpectedly thick in his throat. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” There was a challenge in Ix’s eyes.
“Don’t tease me. I’m not in the mood for it.” Eric closed his eyes, but that didn’t stop the burning of Ix’s gaze on his face. Ix was the one meant to be bed bound but Eric was suddenly exhausted. He just wanted to to go sleep and wake up three months later.
An arm wrapped around his waist. Eric’s eyes flew open as Ix pulled him in until they were nestled in the same warm patch of the mattress, and then all he could see was the outline of Ix’s collarbone. “What–!”
“All right. I shan’t tease you then,” said Ix, his voice rumbling above Eric’s head.
Eric fought himself free, sitting up to stare down at Ix. “Who are you?”
