What do you mean you're fine? You're not fine!

Manon shook her head as she walked back to the war tent that had been set aside for her during their time in the southern part of Terrasen. The witch covens and soldiers underneath her were in the process of recovering from a rather bad fight, and both Manon and Dorian (who was in charge of the other half of the troops) decided to take an extra day of rest.

The problem was that ilken attacked the camp the very next day and though most survived, it had cost them supplies and soldiers, not to mention two wyverns. Angrily, Manon was thinking of the different decisions she could make to ensure no more of her troops were lost when she caught a strange scent in the air.

Strange because she recognized it.

Blood.

The witch stopped her walking, her head facing the direction in which the scent was coming from. Curiously, she followed it, and she only stopped when she neared the entrance to the King's tent. The Queen played with the thought of whether or not she should go in, but figured they had known each other well enough to warrant a surprise entrance.

Manon had not been prepared for what she saw.

"It's not as bad as it looks."

Her eyes narrowed as she took in Dorian, shirtless on the floor, bleeding profusely from a wound to his side. A graze of a blade from what she could see, but his magic didn't seem to be healing it correctly. She didn't give him time to speak again. "I'm getting a healer."

"No."

Though his magic wasn't healing the wound correctly, he had no trouble holding her in place with those stupid phantom hands. "If you die," she snapped, "we lose this war."

"The healers are overworked as it is," he gritted out and she knew the exertion from the magic was not helping his condition. "I'm fine."

"What do you mean you're fine?" She asked, "You are not fine." When the King only huffed, Manon growled. "Let me help you at least."

Dorian released her with a grunt and she went to him in disapproval, grabbing the stitches and bandages next to him. "Take your hand away," she ordered. He did so slowly, his eyes on her face.

It was a clean cut, not too deep, but laced with some kind of poison as it bled out like it had happened five minutes ago. "This is going to hurt," she told him and his answer was a pathetic nod. The witch gave him a piece of cloth to bite unto before she splashed his wound with alcohol.

He screamed, muffled by the cloth, and grabbed unto her arm, lowering his head unto her shoulder while she cleaned out the cut. "Raise your arm," she told him and Dorian grunted as he did so, placing his arm on the cot behind him.

When she was finally done stitching and dressing the wound she made a move to step away, but his hold on her kept her from it. "I'm done," she said while she grabbed the remaining items and placed them back in the box.

"Thank you," he muttered.

"It would have been easier to call a healer."

Dorian moaned a bit and she was distracted by the sound, even though the context was completely different than what she was imagining. "I mean it, thank you."

Ignoring his words, Manon went for his back, hooking her arm there. "Let's get you on the bed."

His grunt was almost a chuckle. "Will you use chains?"

Despite being annoyed at him, and the way he was holding unto her, Manon still smiled. "As tempting as seeing you chained might be…I don't think you'd enjoy the loss of control."

The King's laugh was cut short with a long groan.

Btw, the last comment was the same thing Dorian told Manon back on the boat, that's why he laughed.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Guest/Guest: Lovely reviews

RubyAngelFire: I sometimes incorporate little things that happened in the books, I'm glad you've noticed

Spirit: If I give them a second child it's going to turn into a full-fledged one-shot/fic. I do have something cooking though ;]