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cyanoscarlet) wrote2023-08-04 07:19 pm
FANFIC: Made With Love
[Happens before An Evening Lark.]
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The cook had called in sick that morning. Terence and the two maids ended up breaking last night’s bread for their first meal of the day. Prince Dion still took to his bed, sick with grippe for more than a week now, though fortunately recovering well enough to take in bites of food in between his rest.
Lucie grumbled about how unfair it was for the prince to be sent away during this moment of illness, but His Radiance’s orders were clear: the infant Prince Olivier’s health and safety came first and foremost. So they complied with the Imperial Word, and temporarily stayed at a summer resthouse behind Whitewyrm Castle to wait out the end of Dion’s contagion. While it was no doubt a sound decision by all means, Terence couldn’t help but agree with Lucie’s sentiment.
“What do we do? The kitchen staff’s hands are tied, with the upcoming banquet and all,” Marié huffed, rummaging the cupboards for any ingredients they could use for a hot meal. “Maybe I should go to the market again? They’ll probably have some ingredients to spare.”
“Please do so,” Terence agreed. “Lucie, please fetch some more water from the well. I’ll go check on His Highness.”
“Yes, sir.” After they both left, the house was quiet once more. Terence lined up what they had just gathered from the mostly-empty pantry: half a jar of water, an almost-empty bottle of wine, a couple of potatoes, half a turnip and some leeks. Not enough to make a decent stew. He’d have to wait for Marié’s return to even start cooking.
Just then, he heard the clanging of a couple of pots followed by a soft thud. Dion was on his knees, holding onto the door frame as he slowly caught his breath. He wore his bedclothes in disarray, and his cheeks were still bright red with the fever that had returned just last night. “Your Highness!” Terence ran over, just in time to stop his prince from falling over. “You shouldn’t be up and about yet.”
“... ‘m hungry,” Dion mumbled, still fighting the breathlessness. “‘Tis quite late in the day…”
Terence smiled, despite himself. At least Dion could already walk, though clearly still too weak to do so. He hoisted Dion up by his arm over his shoulder, walking back to the dining table. “Have a seat for now, Your Highness. I shall bring you some water.”
Dion nodded wordlessly, before being consumed by a coughing fit. Terence poured the half of the remaining water into a new cup and brought it before Dion to drink. “Have you taken your medicine?” Dion shook his head. “Hungry,” he repeated.
Terence bit back his growing sigh, his eyes flitting over the meager stocks on the pantry, then back to his prince. Dion was struggling to remain focused despite looking like he’d almost lose consciousness at any moment. “I shall try to cook something, Your Highness. Would you like to return to your room in the meantime?”
To this, Dion shook his head again. “Want to stay here...” He let out a small smile, the first in weeks since he’d fallen ill. Thank Greagor for small mercies, Terence thought to himself.
“All right, then.” Terence rose and returned to the kitchen, but not before taking one more glance at Dion. He’d fallen asleep on the table immediately, small wisps of blond hair sticking all over his sweaty face. Dion letting his guard down around Terence had quickly become a habit, though Terence restrained himself from doing the same; it would be highly improper to do so.
He sighed for real this time. Time to get to work.
Upon checking the smaller cupboards for any last things he could use, a small amount of olive oil, as well as a handful of mixed herbs and ground pepper, joined the paltry spread of ingredients on the table. Only a cup of water was left in the jar; hopefully Lucie will be back soon. Maybe he could manage a simple soup with these ingredients, just a little something to fill his prince in the meantime before Marié returns.
Terence heated up the oil in the pot, then proceeded to dice the potatoes and turnips into small cubes, adding them in just in time as the oil was ready. After stirring for around ten minutes, he adjusted the fire before adding the water, ground pepper and mixed herbs. It was not at all how his mother had prepared it, and he was pretty certain the taste would not amount to anything palatable, but it was probably better than nothing.
He transferred the soup into a wooden bowl once it was done, tasting the small amount that remained in the pot. It was too thin and bland, as he’d expected. Maybe he should have waited for Marié, after all. At least the vegetables would be enough sustenance for a few hours while the real meal was being prepared.
“Your Highness,” Terence gently shook Dion’s shoulder, taking a seat beside him. “I have prepared soup. You should eat it while it’s hot, so you can take your medicine after.”
Dion stirred after a few moments, squinting at Terence as his eyes refocused. “... Too bright…” It left him a little lost for words, as the house was mostly dark, save for the sunlight streaming in from the window on the front porch. “It is a good day, isn’t it?” He settled for agreeing with Dion in the end, hoping his confusion wouldn’t be perceived by his prince.
He lifted a spoonful of soup between them, blowing gently a couple of times. “Is this all right?” Dion opened his mouth in response. Terence then fed him the soup, letting him take his time to sip from the spoon until it was emptied. Dion blinked twice, as if considering the taste of the soup, before swallowing.
Terence gulped nervously, his heart beating fast as his body began to break into an odd sort of cold sweat. Why did he even think this was a good idea? He really should have just waited for Lucie and Marié instead, and now he probably just messed up badly—before his prince, no less.
Then Dion smiled. Still a small one, just like earlier, but clearly directed at him. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” And just like that, Terence’s nervousness went away, completely replaced by joy and relief. How and why that had even happened, he couldn’t understand himself, but that was not important right now. “Do you think you can finish it?”
Dion considered the bowl in Terence’s hand, then looked up at him. He nodded. “If you feed me.”
Well, he supposed he could indulge his prince just this once. Terence added some vegetables into the next spoonful before offering it to Dion. “Be careful, Your Highness.” The next few minutes were spent in a somewhat blissful silence, save for the quiet blowing and chewing sounds. Terence’s cheeks and lips hadn’t hurt from smiling this much since they were both children; it felt as if they had returned to those times, even but for a brief moment.
Lucie returned just as Dion had swallowed the last spoonful of soup. “Oh, Your Highness is awake. I see you’ve had something to eat?”
“Yes, Lucie. Terence made it.” Dion’s eyes shone a little more now than earlier as he faced Terence once more. “It was delicious.”
“I… Thank you…” Terence fumbled for words at the unexpected praise, willing away the way his heart fluttered at Dion’s words. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“If you’re both quite done, Sir Terence can bring His Highness back to his room and give him his medicine. I’ll need help back here once Marié gets back from the market.” Lucie raised an impatient eyebrow at Terence despite the patient instruction she’d given them. That was more than enough for them both to rise immediately and do as she told them.
Once Terence had gotten Dion settled back in his bed and given him his medicine, he sat down on the lone stool by the nightstand and considered the morning’s events. It was nothing but an act of devotion, a moment brought about by a squire’s concern for his liege. He repeated this to himself until his heart rate had slowed down once more. Nothing more than that.
He waited until Dion’s breathing had evened out before quietly making for the door. That was quite enough excitement for one day, and he wouldn’t have his prince think anything more of it, lest he suspect he was being taken advantage of in any way. Terence was certain this moment would remain in his own memory for quite a while, for better or worse. This was enough for now. He would never act upon it, nor do anything his prince wouldn’t wish for.
“Terence?” Dion’s whisper came clearly before Terence could turn the doorknob. There it was again. He slowly let go and turned back. “What is it, Your Highness?”
A smile, so vulnerable yet so full of love. “Thank you. For today.”
There was probably more Dion had wanted to say, but he didn’t have the strength to speak any longer than that, so he made up for it with the way his eyes crinkled in affection and his lips silently mouthed Terence’s name, even as he slowly extended one arm, as if asking him to stay instead. It was a plea Terence couldn’t resist, despite the vow he had made to himself. To see his prince suffer alone was something he could most certainly not bear, no matter what.
So he rushed back to Dion’s side once more, clasping the hand that had reached out for him with both of his own. “You’re most welcome, Your Highness.”
They stayed that way for many moments, with Terence kneeling beside Dion, waiting for him to fall asleep. He did not yet know nor understand where his own feelings lay at this moment, but none of that mattered now to him. “My prince,” he whispered into his and Dion’s joined hands, as if in prayer, “I will always be by your side, for as long as you would have me do so.
“This I promise in Greagor’s name,” he amended his vow, blinking back the tears that had threatened to fall from his eyes. “And may She bless you and keep you in Her grace forever.”