“Nothing,” Farah answered his first question quickly. She remained still, almost shockingly so, as he approached her, but when he lifted his hand to her wound, she flinched away from the touch.
When his skin touched hers, she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. Her face heated with shame, but the blood blush in the hazy shape of a handprint was still distinguishable on her cheek
“I ran into my father,” she answered quietly. “He scolded me for slacking off on my duties and made sure I knew the consequences of such actions. But I’m fine, Adrien, really.”
(Farah is the personification of the “who did this to you?” trope 😂)
Adrien let his hand stay for a few moments, then slowly pulled it away.
"I want him gone." Adrien said angrily, snarling and turning away from her. "I'm sick of him thinking he's still your owner or something, you are not property."
Farah’s eyes widened slightly; she couldn’t help it. Adrien was firing her father. And he would only see it as her fault. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, and she inhaled slowly.
“Adrien…” she whispered, her stomach beginning to twist with a sick feeling of dread. Farah dipped her head, closing her eyes to hide the tears pooling in them. “Don’t…”
Adrien let out a slow breath.
"I won't." He said coldly. "But only because you asked me not to."
He turned back to her.
"You are not to take his abuse anymore. Do you hear me? If need be you stick by my side while he is around."
Farah sighed heavily with relief, and as she did so, the pain from her side flared up immensely. She couldn’t help her reaction as she winced and clutched the area her father’s sheathed sword had connected with.
“Dammit,” she moaned and cried out, nearly doubling over in pain.
Adrien's eyes widened and he ran to her, half carrying her to the bed, lying her down gently.
"Maybe you should take off your armour." Adrien suggested, and blushed a faint pink. "So we can see the wound and dress it correctly."
Farah inhaled sharply and winced again. “I’m fin—” She gasped as another bolt of pain shot through her side while she laid back. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” she admitted through gritted teeth.
Slowly, she slipped off her breastplate and began to lift up the side of her shirt. Her eyes widened as she remembered the other bruises hiding beneath her clothes, and she quickly moved to cover them up again. “Actually, that’s not necessary.”
Adrien gave her a stern look.
"Farah." He said firmly. "We cannot dress the wound if we cannot see it."
“There’s no wound,” Farah insisted quickly, too quickly. “It’s probably just a small mark…”
The area throbbed with pain again, and Farah quickly lifted her hands to cover it. As she did so, her shirt lifted up a bit, and skin patterned with purple, black, and blue new bruises along with yellow and green old ones was revealed in a thin strip.
Adrien stared at the strip of skin for a moment and then looked up, meeting Farah's eyes with a solemn look.
"I know what abuse looks like Farah," he said calmly. "But that is not what I'm worried about right now. I am concerned about dressing your wound, we have no idea whether it could be fatal."
He paused and sighed.
"If it is the bruises you are worried about, you have no fear. I am one familiar with being inflicted with bruises myself, so please. Lift up your shirt so I can see the wound."
Farah winced at his words, but he did manage to calm her fear a bit. It was enough to make the woman lift her shirt to reveal a quickly bruising area on the side of her ribcage, just under her bra. Since he had struck her with his sword while it was sheathed, it hadn’t cut her, and there was no blood. But the spot looked nasty, and the hit had been deliberate. The commander of the king's guard knew where to hit to make it hurt.
Farah refused to make eye contact with Adrien.
Adrien took her lightly by the wrist and led her to his bed, where he sat her down firmly but gently.
He then stood over her, and bent down, his loose golden blonde curls falling lightly in his eyes, so he used his breath to blow them away gently, sending them up into the air and to the side.
He had bent down at the knees so he was level with her bruise.
He touched it with the tips of his fingers extremely lightly.
He then pulled his hand away and brought a slightly white colored thick paste out of his bedside cabinet, as well as some bandages. He uncovered the paste and swabbed some, as gently as possible, on the already bruising skin and around it as well, to be safe. He then wrapped the spot in bandages, standing up to do so. He started to the right of the area, then went around Farah's body counterclockwise. He did this until he ran out of bandages, which resulted in Farah's torso being wrapped firmly about four times. He then used a metal clip to clip the end of the bandage to itself, therefore clipping it in place.
"Better?" He asked, leaning down at the knees again and resting a hand on her knee fondly.
Farah flinched and pulled away as he touched her bruise. No matter how gentle he was, it was still tender and painful.
She watched him work, wincing slightly as he wrapped each time. The area throbbed painfully, but it was feeling slightly better thanks to Adrien’s work.
“Yes, thank you,” she whispered. Her eyes flickered briefly down to her knee that Adrien was touching before meeting his eyes again. “You didn’t need to do that… it would’ve healed on its own.”
"But it'll help it heal faster now." Adrien said. "And I felt like doing it."
He stood up, wincing as his knees cracked slightly.
"I feel so old now, being a king who's knees and joints crack spasmodically." He said, smiling at her.
Farah sighed. “Thank you,” she replied quietly. Her side still ached with pain, but it was noticeably less than it had been before.
She laughed, causing the pain to flare up, but she ignored it as best she could. “Stop that. You’re not old at all.”
"Ah," Adrien said smiling. "But my joints disagree."
He then helped her into a standing position, holding on lightly to her wrists, to ensue that she did not fall down.
Farah rose slowly to her feet, and her ankles popped in the quiet. Her jaw dropped open in surprise. "By the gods, that makes two of us," she teased with a playful grin returning to her features for the first time since her run-in with her father.
Adrien laughed and patted her on the back.
'Welcome to the unwanted club." He told her. "We all grow old extra fast here."
Farah did her best not to wince when he patted her back, and she nodded to cover it up.
“I suppose you’re right,” she remarked with a dry laugh in return. “Though I’m not ‘unwanted’ as much as I am ‘not good enough.’”
Adrien rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.
"oh Farah," he said, raising his voice for dramatic experience. "What will I ever do with you?"
Farah looked away from him quickly as she realized what she'd just said. Wasn't it embarrassing enough to have to run to Adrien when her commander – her father – beat her? Now she was saying what was much better left unsaid.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I shouldn't have said that."
Adrien rolled his eyes at her and playfully shoved her, laughing.
"Shut up," he said, through giggles. "You've got nothing to apologize for."
Farah jerked to attention at the playful shove, then she frowned, trying not to smile. However, a twitch of her lips betrayed her efforts.
“You may be the crowned monarch of Sunstasia, but you don’t tell me to shut up,” she replied, finally smiling at him.
"Speaking of Sunstasia, Sir Bartholomew wants me to start writing a treaty between our kingdom and the kingdom my sister rules, Gongastion." Adrien said, becoming serious. "Oh how I'd like to hurt my elder sister."
His cheeks turned red and he balled up his fist.
"I don't ever want to be on good terms with her or her husband's stupid kingdom. But I guess I must." He spat and turned to her.
"What should I do?" he asked, his anger leaving him.
Farah inhaled sharply at the mention of Adrien's sister. "Diplomatically, yes. That would be best," she responded dryly. "Draft some kind of neutral agreement. You don't have to necessarily be allies unless a situation in the future were to demand it. Simply make it a basic agreement – we won't attack you if you don't attack us. But make it sound more regal than that."
Adrien nodded shortly.
"good to know," he said, turning to his desk and looking down at the draft of the treaty he had been working on for the past few days. He then turned away from his desk entirely and walked to the enormous wooden doors with their donut shaped golden handles and pulled one open.
"Come, warrior princess. Time for breakfast." He said, taking her gently by the wrist and leading her out the door, and turning to shut it behind them.
He then let go and began to walk, keeping his pace slow so Farah could walk slower because of her injuries.
Farah's eyes widened as he took her wrist, and she blushed at his name for her. "You must be referring to someone else," she teased lightly, appreciating that he slowed his pace. "I don't know any warrior princesses."
The sound of someone clearing their throat reached her, and Farah looked up to see her father striding down the hallway toward them. Instinctively, she tugged her wrist out of Adrien's grip and straightened herself up to her full height. The bruise on her side sang with pain, even as she only looked at him. The scabbard hanging from his waist was beautiful… but when the sheathed sword struck Farah's side, it lost its beauty in her eyes.
"Farah," General Castian Dowling greeted his daughter shortly. "I'm glad to see you're taking your job more seriously after our talk." He gave her a smile before bowing to Adrien. "Your Majesty. May I have a word with you?"
Farah refused to meet his eyes as fearful chills shot down her arms and legs.
Adrien turned his head to look at Farah, slowly, then just as slowly, looked to General Castian Dowling.
He narrowed his eyes and looked at Farah's father, and his look of resentment and slight disgust could not be hidden, as well as his general dislike of the man.
"I'm afraid I am very busy right now, general. But state your issue and I may decide if it is more important than what I was on my way to do."
Adrien felt lousy, talking to somone like a snob. He likes to think he was the kindest of the royal family, the least likely to talk to people as if they were below him just because he'd happened to been born to his parents who were the kind and queen. But he couldn't help it in this case, Farah's father had been a large source of his dislike for a very long time.
The general narrowed his eyes in a flicker of a motion. "Very well. But allow me to dismiss the present company who shall not be needed for this conversation." His eyes cut to Farah. "Go on and wait ahead, sentry. You may resume your post when we're finished speaking." He motioned to the doors at the end of the hall that led to the dining hall.
Farah clenched her jaw tightly. What she was about to do was something she had never done before in her life. But it was a long time coming.
“I’m afraid that as the king’s personal guard, anything that relates to His Majesty is worthy of my attention as well.”
Castian’s eyes were the only perceivable outlet of his anger. They locked on Farah, scrutinizing her with a withering glare. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sentry.”
Farah tightened her fingers into fists behind her back.
Adrien took a deep breath and let it out through his nose.
"I'm afraid Farah is right General." Adrien said, his voice was low from anger. "Now will you please state your reason for being here? I have other things to attend to as the king of Sunstasia."
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