Scabior stayed in bed and slept for the next several days. He was ill and exhausted. And for the first time in his life all he wanted to do was sleep. This made it very easy for his wife to care for him during his recovery. All she had to do was wake him up every now and then so he could take his potions, rinse his throat, and drink some chicken broth at mealtimes.
As he began the recovery process, Draconius had Scabior drinking plenty of water and warm fluids, such as soup and herbal tea. She told him that this, combined with the potion he used to rinse his throat, helped to clean the infection out and heal the tissues of his throat.
At first Scabior refused to drink anything other than the potions he needed to get better. His throat was still very sore, and he couldn't tolerate swallowing anything unless he absolutely had to.
His wife knew that he was dehydrated from not drinking enough, and it was important that he replenish the fluids he'd lost. But trying to get him to swallow anything was a challenge. Draconius eventually had to give him a pain relieving potion before he would even attempt to drink anything.
She added the pain reliever to the list of daily potions he was taking. Managing pain, controlling his fever, and making sure he drank enough liquids was Draconius' main focus. As long as she could keep him comfortable enough that he could eat and rest, he would be just fine in a couple of days.
While he was resting, Draconius worked to brew another batch of the potions Scabior was taking. The potion for his throat infection was in short supply. Draconius only had enough of it to last through the first three days of his treatment. Fortunately the potion was easy to make. And she already had everything on hand that she needed to make it.
Before long the aroma of the potion she was brewing began wafting out the flap in Scabior's tent, drawing the attention of one of the more curious Snatchers, who entered the tent to see where the smell was coming from.
It was Isaac who entered the tent. He saw Scabior, asleep in bed with a damp washcloth on his forehead. Draconius was nearby tending to the potion she was brewing.
"Mrs. Rose?" Isaac said as he walked into the tent.
Scabior shifted slightly in bed, murmuring softly under his breath as he slept.
"Shh, lower your voice," Draconius cautioned. "Scabior's sleeping, and I don't want you to wake him up."
"Right. Sorry," Isaac apologized.
"It's alright. And please, call me Draconius. You don't have to call me Mrs. Rose just because I'm married to your boss."
Isaac walked over to the caldron Draconius was stirring and looked down at the softly simmering pale green potion. "What're you making?" he asked.
"It's a potion is for Scabior," Draconius said. "He's very sick, and he needs this to help him get better."
"Scabior's sick?" Isaac glanced back over his shoulder at the sleeping form of his master lying in bed. "What's wrong with him?"
"He has tonsillitis. A rather severe case of it, too. I had to drain an abscess in his throat because complications had set in."
"Eww..." Isaac wrinkled his nose in disgust. "He will be okay, right?"
"Yes, Isaac. Scabior will be fine. I've got him taking a high dose of anti-infection potion, as well as something to reduce his fever. The next few days are going to be rough. But by the end of the week he should be feeling much better."
.oOo.
It was late. The moon shown high above the forest canopy, shining its gentle light down on the cluster of tents set up on the forest floor below. Frogs could be heard croaking in a nearby stream as crickets sung their song to the night.
Scabior was awake even though it was nearly midnight. He awoke when the pain relieving potion he'd taken had worn off, causing the burning sensation in his throat to return with a vengeance.
Draconius was quick to notice his distress, and administered another dose of the pain relieving potion. They then had to wait for the potion to take effect so Scabior could go back to sleep.
While they waited, Draconius sat on the bed beside him, speaking softly to him as she tried to take his mind off the pain he was in. She smoothed the damp strands of hair out of his face, his tangled locks wet with a combination of perspiration and water that had dripped into his hair from the washcloth on his forehead.
"Look at you," she said. "Your face is as red as the streak in your hair. I'd better take your temperature."
Scabior said nothing as she drew her wand and waved it over him in a slow, circular motion. The red whisps of smoke that issued from the tip of her wand told her that his fever was still rather high.
"One hundred and two," she said. "I should give you more of the fever reducer as well. We need to get this under control so you can rest."
She handed him the bottle of sapphire blue potion. And after struggling for a second to force the liquid down his throat, Scabior managed to swallow the potion before handing the bottle back to her.
"You know I love you, Scabior," said Draconius. "There's a reason why I tell you to come to me when you aren't feeling well. It's to prevent something like this from happening, where things get out of hand and you wind up suffering and miserable."
Scabior looked up at her, listening as she spoke. His eyes were half closed, and he was beginning to drool again since the renewed pain made it difficult to swallow.
Draconius took a tissue from the box on the nightstand and gently wiped the saliva off her husband's chin. As a sign of how bad he felt Scabior didn't try pulling away from her. Normally whenever she fussed over him he would move away, dodging her attempts to care for him.
But tonight Scabior didn't care. He felt positively wretched and no longer had the energy or the desire to fight. And in his current condition, he didn't think it very wise to try getting away from the only person he had who could make him feel better.
"Scabior," she said, looking a bit surprised by his lack of reaction. "You're really out of it, aren't you? You're not yourself tonight, sweetie."
He blinked his tired eyes, quietly watching and listening to her without comment.
"My poor foxy. You've been through so much these last couple of days. I know it hurts, but you'll feel better soon. I promise."
She removed the washcloth that was draped across his forehead and refreshed it in the bowl on the nightstand. She wrung the excess water out of the washcloth, folded it in half, then placed it back on Scabior's forehead.
Scabior sighed and closed his eyes. He could feel the potions starting to take effect. And within a few minutes he was sound asleep.
.oOo.
Draconius was right about the first few days of his recovery being rough. He was still in a lot of pain. And if it weren't for the pain relieving potion his wife gave him, Scabior wouldn't be able to drink or tolerate swallowing soup at mealtimes.
By the third day the symptoms of the abscess had gone away, relieving much of his pain and making it easier for him to drink and swallow.
By the fifth day Scabior's health had greatly improved. Although he couldn't tolerate anything other than liquids and soup, he was eating more and feeling much better. He continued to run a low grade fever, and his throat was still sore. But overall he was in much better shape than he had been a couple days ago.
After a week of bed rest and potions, Scabior was well on his way to making a full recovery. His temperature had returned to normal, and he was beginning a diet of soft foods as his throat continued to heal.
Draconius sat down on the edge of the bed, her wand lit as she checked her husband's throat to see how his recovery was progressing.
She inspected the drainage site carefully to rule out reaccumulation of pus. There was no indication that the abscess was trying to return, which was a welcome relief to both her and her husband.
"You're looking much better this morning, Scabior," Draconius said when she had finished her examination. "I'm going to have you continue taking the anti-infection potion for another three days to clear up the last of the infection."
"I don't ever want to go through anything like tha ever again," said Scabior. "I've never been so sick in my entire life."
"Well, hopefully you've learned your lesson, Scabior. This could have been prevented if you'd come to me when you first started getting sick."
"I still don't like it, pet. I don't like the thought of being cared for like I'm some weakling who's incapable of taking care of myself."
"Scabior," Draconius' tone carried with it a strong hint of warning in her voice, "what you had was a very serious infection. The swelling in your throat was so severe it was blocking your airway. You need to start taking better care of yourself and allowing me to help you when you're sick. Otherwise, the next time you come down with an infection like that, you're going to have to have your tonsils removed."
There was a long drawn out pause as Scabior looked at her in disbelief. "No. No, you can't be serious," he said at length, thinking perhaps he'd heard wrong. "I've only gotten sick one time - "
"You're lying," said Draconius, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "You've had tonsillitis twice this year. You think I don't notice when you can barely speak, and live off liquids because you can't swallow solid foods? Your men might not see your illness for what it is, but I do."
"It's not tha bad," Scabior insisted.
"Then why were you just telling me that you never want to go through that again?"
Scabior appeared to wilt under her gaze. He was unable to think of a response to her question. He'd gotten so used to his tonsils always being a problem that he never considered having them removed. However, this most recent infection was the worst he'd ever experienced. It was enough to make him rethink his options.
"You don't have to go through that again, Scabior," said Draconius, her tone becoming more gentle as she spoke to him. "You've been showing signs that your tonsils need to come out. By rights you should have them out in a few weeks once you're fully recovered."
"No, I don't want to go tha route. I'm keeping them. Even if it means being fussed over like some child every time I'm ill," said Scabior.
By now Scabior was tiring of this conversation. He'd heard enough lectures about his health for one day, and he was still feeling a bit run down from days of battling his illness.
"I'm really tired, pet," said Scabior. "I want to go to bed."
Draconius sighed. She wasn't pleased with his decision to not have the operation. She knew this meant that he was likely to keep getting sick with recurring throat infections. However, he was now willing to accept treatment for his illness, instead of refusing it until the last second when he could hardly breathe or speak.
It wouldn't be difficult for her to manage his condition. With any luck, Scabior might not have to suffer through such a severe infection again, regardless of whether or not he chose to have surgery by magical means.
Scabior snuggled under his blankets, making himself comfortable as he prepared to go to sleep. His wife brushed aside several long strands of his wild and unruly hair, leaned forward, and placed a kiss on his cheek.
A smile creased the corners of his mouth as his eyes began to close. He was thankful for her care and attentiveness, and for all the love she had shown him. Scabior realized that he never should have pushed her away, refusing treatment when she was the only one he had that truly cared about him. Any healer could take care of him when he was sick. But only Draconius did it with love.