forum An Unexpected Alliance / Dark Fantasy OxO / Closed!!

Started June 29, 2021 by @red-the-tired-gay

tune

Johan screamed.
The sound of it wasn’t distinguishable against the symphony of war, but it was everything to Johan. He was in shock at first. The pain. The searing pain in his side that had him keeling over. His hand was covered in blood, he realized faintly. And the blood kept coming, dripping down his arm to pool in the dirt.
He found himself sinking towards the ground against his labored attempts to land a hit on Lucien in return. Pathetic attempts, really, which only made him all the angrier.
Johan gripped at his side, shaking, and gasping between words as he spewed a broken line of lewd insults at Lucien.

Lucien just stood there, frozen in place, as the blood of his enemy dripped slowly from his sword. His mind raced as he stared down at the injured Johan.
Oh, God. Please don't let him be dying. If he dies, I'll have hell to pay for it. His father…my people…no, I can't let this happen.
Lucien sheathed his sword and knelt down, grabbing Johan's wrists and confiscating his weapons so that he be able to harm him if he tried. He then wrapped Johan's arm around his shoulder and hoisted him onto his back. Though it was awkward, it was the easiest way to carry him.
Soon he was away from the battle, panting heavily from the extra weight on his back. A couple of his men ran up to him, confused.
"Your majesty, what are you-"
"Take him to the medical wing of the palace." Lucien ordered.
"But sire, he-"
"Do it now before he bleeds out. Tell them to keep him alive, under my orders. Understood?"
"Right away, sire."
The men took Johan, who was thankfully still breathing and alive, putting the injured man in a medical carriage and taking him away. Lucien breathed a sigh of relief-the palace had some of the best doctors in the country. He would be alright. Quickly, he returned to battle.
It wasn't long before the sound of Dreavionian horns filled the air once again, but this time they were horns of retreat. Johan's men fled, horses galloped, and Lucien's men cheered and hugged and celebrated.
Lucien couldn't help but smile. They won. They actually managed to defeat Dreavion in battle- something even his father struggled to accomplish. There would be an abundance of parties and drinking tonight.
But Lucien had other things he needed to worry about. He shouted for his men to return home, help the injured, and leave the bodies for now. They would soon return to collect, identify, and bury the fallen, but not until they got the injured soldiers the medical care they needed. Once all the living soldiers were off the battlefield and returning home, Lucien mounted his own horse and returned to the palace, wondering how prince Johan was doing.

Johan quickly lost any energy he had left trying to shove Lucien away from helping him. It didn’t work, of course, and he soon gave up his attempts. “Just leave me alone,” he groaned, “You…you…” The next time he blinked he was in some sort of carriage. Above the blood rushing in his ears he heard his own army’s retreat horns.
A curse fell from Johan’s bruised lips as he fell back into unconsciousness again.
When he woke up again, he was still, as opposed to jostling around in a moving carriage.
The carved, decorative walls, Johan recognized them from a palace. His palace? No. Not his own. That was when panic settled in.
He pushed himself up by his elbows, which promptly caused him to cry out in pain. To hell with it all, he hissed incoherently at the wound—dressed and bandaged already—on his side.

Lucien didn't have very many wounds, but the ones he did have were tended to by his personal nurses and doctors. Afterwards, he bathed, washing away the dirt and dried blood from his pale skin, making himself presentable once again. He dried himself and changed into his usual attire: a flowy white dress shirt which reached a little past his elbows, a vest overtop, as well as his fur cape which reached down to his ankles. He pulled on his boots, which reached mid-calf and had a slight, chunky heel on them, and wore various rings made of gold and silver on his fingers. Once he was finally dressed and looking fresh and clean as ever, Lucien left his room and made his way across the castle to see how Johan was doing.
The medical wing was small, for there was no need for it to be big. It consisted of a hall with only a couple rooms: the office, where the doctors and nurses kept their equipment and medicine, and a few private patient rooms, for when the patient could not stay in their own room and needed to be cared for and watched by the nurses at all times. Lucien briefly consulted with one of the nurses, who unlocked the door to Johan's room and allowed him inside, shutting the door behind him. He took a couple steps toward the injured prince's bed and peered down at him.
"How are you feeling?" he questioned softly.

Johan was still reclining on his shaky elbows when he heard the door unlock. Too scared to shift into a more comfortable position lest he strain his side again. He lifted the top of his head from the pillow, which earned him another grimace from the effort, then glowered when the king entered. He completely ignored the question. “Get out.” It was obvious he was trying to add an edge of finality to his command, but his words just came out strained and pitiful.

"Rude." Lucien scoffed, crossing his arms. He glared down at Johan, examining his condition. Definitely not good. "I would ask again, but the answer is obvious." He peered out the window, noticing that a light snow had begun to fall. "You know, you should be thankful. You're getting some of the finest medical care in Aerivda. I could have left you to die."

Johan rolled his eyes. He would have scoffed back, but he was sure it might hurt more. “I would have preferred that, actually.” His Aerivdan was rusty. But thanks to geography, their languages had enough similarities for Johan to get used to it as if it were just a different dialect. Eventually, he would get used to it. He looked over Lucien’s outfit, his eyes lingering on the fur cape and jewelry. It made him homesick for his own. “Where is my sword? My armor?”

Lucien let out a half-chuckle at Johan's remark as he leaned against the wall. "Oh, they're locked away somewhere. Not like you'll be needing them any time soon. I mean, look at you, you can barely sit up." A tiny, almost mocking smile tugged at the Aerivdan's lips as he absentmindedly fidgeted with his rings.

“Like you’re so much better yourself,” Johan muttered. It was a stupid comeback, he knew it, but a habitual one. Lucien was better off than him. The boy-king had all of the right cards. He had the crown prince wounded and at his mercy. He had won the battle.
“My father is going to give you hell for killing me, you know it.” In truth, his father had never cared as much for Johan as he did for his firstborn, Leviticus. The recently deceased Crown Prince. And now with Johan’s supposed death, the only living heir his father had was a child. Younger than Lucien, and by far unfit for ruling even within the next several years.

Lucien was fully aware of this. He shrugged. "I'll deal with that issue once it presents itself." He furrowed his eyebrows slightly and looked away, clearly a bit stressed about this. "As far as they know, you just disappeared. It's not yet confirmed that you're dead." How was he going to handle this? If he would have left him there to die, it would have gone the same. Once Johan's father found out, and is unable to find him, he's screwed. He paced the room slowly, trying to think of a solution.

Johan curled his lip. “So he assumes you’re holding me captive. All the better.” His snarl turned into a gasp of pain as he eased himself down onto his back again, eventually settling down to stare up at the ceiling instead of meeting Lucien’s gaze. His face was flushed enough from the pain already to face the source of his humiliation: the boy-king who bested him in a medium Johan was supposed to be the best in. What would those back home think of him? “Obviously I’m no threat to you otherwise. So like I said, get out.”