You woke up feeling nauseous. Breathing through only one nostril, your throat scratchy and your head pounding, you cracked your eyes open halfway. Instinctively, your hand reached across the bed, expecting to find warmth but met only empty sheets. With a groan, you pushed yourself upright.
You didn’t have long to dwell on the absence of your partner before Ariel stepped back into the room. His eyes widened slightly when he noticed you awake.
“Oh did I wake you?”
You shook your head slowly, then immediately nuzzled your face into his lap the moment he sat down beside you. His expression softened into concern as his hand brushed across your forehead.
“Are you alright? You don’t look well.”
You shook your head again, your voice muffled against him. “I’m dying.” Ariel’s hand halted for a moment having been with him for a couple of years now he knows you tend to dramatize things a bit, but he was still concerned.
He gently moves your head from his lap and stands up “I'll go get some help”. You reach your hand out as he walks towards the door.
“Nooo don't leave me! Not in my last waking moments” the redhead just chuckles looking back at you saying “I'll be back” before leaving the room.
•••
“It is nothing more than the flu. Prince Ariel. All she needs is rest”
“Though I do suggest you keep your distance. It is contagious” Grimsby reduces Ariel’s concerns after checking you. Reassuring him you'll be fine.
“I won't be okay though….It's over for me” Grimbsy sighs rolling his eyes and looking back down at you. “You are not dying Your Highness”
You groan draping your arm over your eyes. “It feels like I am….Ariel..will you take care of my seashell collection when I pass?”
Ariel’s brows knitted together, lips parting like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Take care of-? No! You’re not passing, you’re just-” he waved his hands uselessly, searching for the right word, “—sniffly!”
You peeked at him dramatically from under your arm. “This is the end, Ariel. Tell the gulls I loved them…”
Grimsby let out a long-suffering sigh, straightening his coat. “Your Highness is not passing. She has the flu. A common, ordinary, perfectly curable flu.” He glanced at Ariel. “Do not indulge this nonsense.”
But Ariel ignored him, moving back to kneel at your bedside. He took your hand between both of his. “If it means that much to you,” he said through a small chuckle, “I’ll take care of every seashell. I’ll polish them, I’ll guard them, I'll even take care of the chipped ones you insist on keeping”
You cracked one eye open, trying not to smile. “And the ones that smell like fish?” you croaked.
He nodded immediately. “Especially those ones.”
That made Grimsby pinch the bridge of his nose. “Heavens above… melodrama and gullibility. I’ll fetch tea.”
You let out another weak groan, shifting under the blankets. “If this is the end, Ariel, sing me something… so my soul may depart in peace.”
His eyes softened instantly, and before Grimsby could scold you both again, Ariel leaned closer, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Then I’ll sing you to sleep,” he whispered, voice warm and low.
And he did, soft and shaky at first, but steadying as he went on.
Grimsby returned with the tea, muttering, “Utterly hopeless,” when he saw the prince still singing to his perfectly not-dying beloved.
