Author's Note: This story's going really long, but I hpe the quality doesn't decline. Enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen: With You

Pain. Pure, gnawing pain.

Lanfan thought this as her body writhed, her limbs strapped to the operating table.

"I am truly sorry about this, Miss Lanfan…" Long Zhou muttered as he connected her nerves to the hair-thin wires that sprouted from the automail arm. Each time his tweezers touched the delicate tissue they sent an unpleasantly sharp jolt through Lanfan's body. The herbal numbing remedy he gave her didn't help much, either. She bit on the rag he'd given her, to suppress her screams. She'd never made such a girlish noise in front of her master, and she certainly wasn't going to now, clad waist-up in only bandages.

Lanfan spit out the cloth. "Young Master, please leave," she grinded out through her teeth, which she could feel splinting at the pressure.

Meanwhile, her employer loomed over the table, his face stoic. Even then, she could see a pained look in his eyes. "No. I'm not leaving you, Lanfan." He bit his lip. "I'm so sorry about this…."

"This is my fault…." Her statement couldn't be completed as she cried out. Long Zhou gave her a sympathetic look as fat tears ran down her cheeks, mixing with the blood from her mouth.

Qiaolian had been sent out to be fitted for a new festival dress, so Ling had gripped the stool where she once sat. Why wasn't he strong? He hadn't been strong enough to save Lanfan, and he wasn't strong enough to watch while someone else did it for him. His dark eyes flashed open from their usual narrow demeanor. He staggered over and held Lanfan's flesh hand. She would make him strong.

"I'm staying with you," he said, stroking her sweat-drenched hair.

"No, don't…." She cried out again as Long Zhou poked the wrong tissue.

"I'm with you," Ling said again, smiling reassuringly before everything faded to black.

Long Zhou chuckled heartily. "A little fighter, that girl is. Most don't stay conscious after a few minutes, but she lasted an hour."

Ling began to pace the room. "When will she wake up?"

The mechanic waved a wrench in the air dismissively. "Not for a while. She will remain asleep for a few days, and the recovery lasts a year at the least."

The prince smiled. "She said she'd be up in six months."

Long Zhou nodded sagely. "I don't doubt her. She is strong."

Ling frowned. "I am not."

"If she did not think you were strong, then she would not have almost died in your place, because she believes that you will be a great emperor someday."

He glanced down at her. "Long Zhou, isn't Lanfan beautiful?"

The mechanic waved a pair of pliers this time. "Prince! She is betrothed!"

He sighed. "I know. I hate it." He turned to the elder. "Who else have you operated on, anyway?"

"A prince, Jian Bo. Early in his life, his hand had been burned, left unusable. Being the heir to his clan, he'd gotten it replaced so that he could at least have a chance in the emperor's competition."

Ling paled. He hadn't thought of the competition since that night when he'd gotten beat by Sou. "What is that thing about? No one seems to be letting up on the details."

The mechanic sighed. "It's a big event, taking place in one month's time. The emperor has been deemed terminal by physicians, so he has planned a battle between every heir reigning from the 50 clans. Princesses have been allowed to hire champions to fight in their places, but only a few have taken up the offer. The competition will run for a week, contestants winning by KO-ing opponents."

Ling could imagine his many advisors strategizing in the war room this very instant. "I see."

Then, the realization hit him.

He had to win to be emperor.

It had been decided.

Author's Note: This one's a bit short, I hope you liked it. I'm juggling fanfiction with my guitar study, flute study, and singing, so I might not post in a while. Either way, stay tuned!