Siegfried's memory of the events was all to clear. Painfully clear, both literally and, even worse for his pride, figuratively.

It had been a short battle, such a simple thing; an overambitious gang of bandits attacking the royal carriage and its escort of guards. The bandits were few enough in number that it could not have been a planned assault, certainly not a conspiracy against the monarchs. Just a band of scum who prayed on careless nobles when they saw a fancy enough carriage pass by. Yet he, the very Prince of the land, could not suffer such deeds to continue, and had desired to fight against them with his own hands. And the bandits had threatened not only him, but his Princess besides; something even the apparently perfect Prince was reluctant to forgive.

Was that something he should be faulted for? Was that why he was here now, because an anger unlike any he had known even before losing his heart had veiled his senses?

He had stepped forward, noble and swift, all elegance and grand strikes, though he hardly bloodied his blade and most of the attackers were left to be captured by the royal soldiers. One particular bandit had engaged him, or rather, he had selected that bandit, who appeared to be the leader. The position had obviously been earned by skill, as the bandit matched Siegfried's lithe steps for a fair length of time, but the prince's ethereal balance saved him from a fall, which he pressed the bandit to take instead. He had none of the rope that was used by the guards to secure the prisoners, so he stood by, keeping his sword at the unfortunate man's throat as the other men were neatly caught. He leaned forward, inquiring regally, "What did you hope to achieve by disturbing the kingdom's peace? Such actions are-"

Then, a footfall behind him, and he whirled to slash his assailant's wrist belatedly. It was reflex that shielded him from what would have been a lethal blow, he deflected it from his chest to leave a wide slit across his stomach. He gasped, some instinct driving an arm to wrap over the injury and drenching his sleeve in thick warmth. Blood. Blood made up a good deal of his memories after that point, for though sensations began to trickle through in fragments, each piece was vivid for him. All movement escaped him; he was so still that his limbs could truly have been porcelain, his face painted with a determinedly tight mouth and wide, unsteady eyes. The guards had tended to most of the other bandits, he saw, and quickly dealt with those remaining. He might have nodded approvingly, had his mind been clear enough for it. Dizziness had disrupted that almost unique sense of balance while he waited, but he didn't realize he had fallen until the one person he shared his balance with had picked him up. He found himself cradled against Rue, and though her face was far too blurred for him to make out any expression, he felt the need to reassure her. He gave her a wan smile, and reached up to rest a hand against against her cheek, too dazed to realize that it was trembling and stained.

That was where matters became unclear. Had he spoken to calm her, promised her he would be fine? He could not recall, and shortly after that, memory faded along with consciousness under blossoming black spots.

And then- now- everything was warm and white, sounds swimming hesitantly about his mind as he stirred, coming awake slowly until he registered the scalding sting across his stomach. He hissed through gritted teeth, clenching his eyelids together before forcing them apart ever so slightly to face the light. His mouth opened as he searched for words. He knew what had happened, oh, yes. He had no need to ask about that. But... he had to know...

"Rue..." He paused, unsure who might be listening to his faint voice, and distantly recalled formality. "The princess... Is... is she alright?"

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odiles_love
2011-07-08 08:47 pm (local) (link)   Select
Rue had not cried. Certainly not when the bandits attacked, but not when she saw her Prince fall, nor when he had looked at her and tried to smile and been unable to speak any comprehensible words. She hadn't cried even once during the rushed trip to the nearest village, when she had kept him in her arms, half resting on her lap. Her lip hadn't even trembled when they had taken him away from her and put him in the doctor's hands.

But she had been sure her heart was about to rip right out of her chest.

Now, his blood was drying on her cheek and hands and the fine white satin of her dress; the smell of it tinted her hair. Her back was straight, though her head was not held high. She sat not-quite primly on a chair beside Mytho's bed in the room the keeper of the small town's inn had ushered them into the moment he had learned of what had happened. Somehow, it was still the afternoon of the very same day, though Rue could have sworn she'd aged at least five years.

Rue was still not crying, but she was starting to entertain the idea of letting herself crumple.

The soft voice that reached her ears almost made her do it. But she didn't. Not quite.

Her head bowed low as she struggled with her expression. "... You ask such silly questions."
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richest_heart
2011-07-08 09:57 pm (local) (link)   Select
Somehow, there was strength in him still, and she drew it out. Enough to move, enough to shove his hands inelegantly against the mattress in a fierce effort to right himself. But beyond that, he failed, his arms quivering as he held his body partway from the bed. He would not fall; there was no reason for him to fall when his princess was beside him. The wound lashing its pain over him like a whip was hardly an excuse, nor was what he could only have called a persistent wooziness that set the world wobbling.

"Then what questions should I ask?" His strain was dangerously audible, and it was only a moment after speaking that he felt his body defy his will, sinking into the sheets weakly. He forced a sigh for himself, and though it was a ragged scrap of breath, he prepared to smooth over his tone for her.

He offered another valiant attempt at a smile, still seeking to reassure her more than anything, but his pale face was dulled by a sickly pallor in place of its angelic glow. "What question could be more vital than that of your safety?"

It was such a simple truth. If he had neglected to act, and she had come to be lying here in his stead... It was not a thought he could finish, even within his own mind.
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odiles_love
2011-07-08 10:16 pm (local) (link)   Select
Mytho's move to sit up made Rue jerk forward, her face betraying the strain she felt. "Don't!"

Her hands were on his shoulders, guiding him back down even as he fell. They remained there, though he was still.

"Anything," she admitted, her voice a bit weak, "but don't ask after me, when you're like this. I didn't suffer a scratch." A strange thing to hear from someone covered in blood, perhaps, but true nonetheless.
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richest_heart
2011-07-08 11:15 pm (local) (link)   Select
That smile, or as much of one as Siegfried had been able to form, did not waver, but he couldn't quite stop hesitant sadness from pooling in his softly golden eyes as Rue cried out.

He shakily raised a hand to cover hers, holding it in place despite her offering no sign of removing it. He might have allowed himself to relax at her touch, if he had not brushed over the thin coating of blood on her skin. He shifted his gaze swiftly, for the first time taking her in properly. What he saw, now that his vision was clearer, was far from pleasing.

"I am sorry, Rue... Tell me, then, what can I do to make up for worrying you so?"
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odiles_love
2011-07-08 11:44 pm (local) (link)   Select
Rue let out a weary sigh and closed her eyes briefly before she looked at Mytho with new firmness.

"You can stay in this bed and heal."

She didn't doubt for a moment that keeping him in one place was going to be a struggle. It was in the Prince's nature to come to the aid of anyone he perceived as needing it--which tended to amount to a lot. It was one of the things she loved about him, but it had affected his judgement more than enough of times in the past to warrant caution now.
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richest_heart
2011-07-09 12:53 am (local) (link)   Select
"If that is what you wish," he assented easily enough, weakly tightening his hand around hers. "I will be fine before long."

He had little choice but to heal quickly, after all. It would not do for him to be kept from his duties for any length of time, for the sake of his people and his princess. It was his own foolishness that had seen him injured, and he couldn't let that hurt anyone else. Certainly not Rue, who he feared would find some way to tire herself further in his absence.