Rhys knew she couldn't argue now, because he knew she knew he wasn't moving again. He physically couldn't. He was barely keeping his eyes open as it was. He would have to sleep sometime, as he had to sleep to heal. That would probably be a little nerve-racking. When he opened his eyes he would just hope to be on earth. Honestly, he was a little surprised at how ... barren her room was. It was still very much a royal room, but there weren't the excessive amounts of everything that the other royals had. It was just... cozy. Not overwhelming. Guilt pricked at his chest as he felt blood from his shirt start to seep into the couch. He'd have to build her a new couch or something. If he was supplied with the wood and fabric and anything else she wanted, he could. And he would, for her. Even if it took a couple weeks to get right. He wished he could observe the room more closely, as he could learn more about the person he had watched for years but still felt like he knew little about. However, he was far too focused on the stabbing pain in his stomach every time he shifted. Eventually, he managed to just lay on the couch, chest rising and falling with slow, shaky breaths. One hand rested on his stomach, covering the wound as if that would do something. It wouldn't. Thankfully it wasn't really bleeding, but he knew that wasn't true inside. The internal damage was his main concern. If he could get through that, then he would probably be fine. If it didn't get infected.

.

His eyes closed almost as soon as she left, eyebrows knit together slightly with pain as he just let himself rest. Never Fall asleep. Just rest. He knew she wouldn't really appreciate the fact he was letting his eyes close for any extended period of time, but he couldn't help it. It took all the strength he could muster to keep them open, and he wanted to save that strength. A muscle feathered in his jaw at the feeling of being covered in sticky blood. At least it was his blood and not someone else's. The feeling was something that he wanted to gag at. It was horrific, and when it dried, it was somehow worse. It was useless to think he wouldn't be scrubbing blood off of himself in a day or so when he managed to stagger to a shower somewhere. He tried not to let himself, as he had many times, wonder about what he assumed was an assassination attempt on her. He didn't know for sure, but that's what he was guessing. That first time, she had freaked at the sight of blood, her fingers had kept twitching towards herself like she was the one who was hurt, and she had been out of breath- not from the run, but from the gunshot. He desperately wanted to know more than what he could figure out, but he knew he couldn't ask. Their pasts both had things in them that they didn't want to disclose, and he knew better than to push boundaries.

.

His thoughts were loud enough that he didn't hear her coming back, and he drew in a short breath when he felt something on his shoulder. After opening his eyes, however, he seemed to relax the most he could in his situation, assured it was just her. He apparently didn't have the energy to be properly startled, either. His eyes grew half lidded again as he turned his gaze back to the ceiling. He didn't let them close, miraculously, but he was exhausted. Mentally and physically. It didn't even feel like death was tugging at his mind anymore. He was just utterly tired. That's why he only offered a slight wince when the cloth caught a little bit of his skin. The dagger had apparently been kind of dull. Although it hurt, it was nothing compared to his main wound, so apart from being as tense as his tired body could manage... he was limp. He didn't try to move away or even tighten his jaw because of the pain.

.

Despite his best efforts, his very brain was shutting down. Any adrenaline that had been there was completely gone, and his willpower was fading fast. Rhys' eyes shut, even though he tried to make them stay open. It was up to Death now, he guessed. If he fell asleep, he couldn't do anything about it after that. At least he could relax. Which he did, as his body slowly fell into a stupor. Something about this rest made it feel like nothing could wake him up until he was ready. If it was his body's way of shutting down, so be it, but he hoped, quietly, the last thoughts fading from his mind. He hoped he was just healing. He pulled one more thought to the front of his mind. The memory of her eyes. That was what he thought before his conscience shut off completely.

Phoebe Nightlingale

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Her room was quiet, save for their breathing, as Phoebe continued to wash off the blood from his skin to the best of her ability. She had noticed how he had begun to drift off into slumber and, truth be told, she had panicked for a few moments, but she knew that he had to rest in order to get better. She didn`t know much about how the body worked or how it recovered, yet she knew that was sleep was a necessity. Her gaze remained fixed on the wound on his shoulder, her touch gentle as she wiped away all the blood and grime that threatened to make the injury worse as time progressed. If his wounds got infected, it would mean his life was in danger all over again, which was what she wanted to avoid at all costs. Occassionally, she started humming a quiet tune, as if to reassure both herself and him that everything was fine.. that everything would be fine. She eventually finished wiping the remainder of dirt and blood from the wound on his shoulder, leaning back on her heels and sighing softly. Her gaze then traveled to his clothed torso and the bloodstains all over his shirt. She knew she would have to mauever him a little in order to clean off the wound that was more life-threatening than the rest. Carefully, she picked up the dirty rags and headed back over to the bathroom, setting them down into a pile before grabbing new ones and wetting them with cool water like she had done before.

Phoebe returned to his side a few minutes later, assuming the exact position she had been in before. With great care and focus, she rearranged his shirt so that she could tend to his other wound. For some reason, it felt oddly intimate to see him like this: asleep and almost.. at peace. She shook her head dismissively before she started cleaning off the wound that was her main concern. Truth be told, she had waited for him to doze off before tending to this one; it would hurt.. a lot for her to clean it. Her touch was as gentle and careful as it always was, never harsh or firm enough to cause him unecessary pain. She knew that whatever they woke up tomorrow, it wouldn`t be easy; she wouldn`t even be surprised if she had to see the scene Rhys had left in the study.. She would have to see the bodies in one way or another, both as the princess and as her father`s daughter. A frown shifted onto her face at the thought. She wondered if she would be able to handle that sight, mostly because of the gore, but.. it was still her father that was dead.

Momentarily, her thoughts took an abrupt turn as she looked over at Rhys` almost peaceful-looking face. He really was a stunning sight, one that could easily pass as a royal if he had ever had the chance to dress as exquisitely as one; she doubted he would ever want to, to be honest. From his perspective, she figured that he believed royals were the worst type of human, mostly because very few could be considered human. She wondered if back when they were kids he had ever contemplated approaching her, if there had been some chance- even if it was small- that they could have grown together and protected each other far sooner. A saddened smile shifted onto her face at the thought, mostly because it was definitely wistful thinking. There was no way he would have considered it, not when she had seemed exactly like the other royals before the asassination attempt. But maybe even back then Rhys had known she was more than just another royal. Maybe he had broken down her facade all those years ago without her knowing, watching her from the shadows. Phoebe was slowly becoming more persuaded that her thoughts were absurd, even if they were a small possibility.

When she finished cleaning his stomach wound, she stood up and carefully lowered his shirt back into its original position. Her blue eyes met his closed ones, her gaze far more gentle and caring than it probably ever had been before. Even though she didn`t know what lay in store for them, she owed her freedom from the monsters that always followed her to him. A sigh escaped her as she picked up the dirtied rags and walked over to the bathroom once again, adding on to the pile. She hadn`t rested well at all in the recent days, yet that didn`t prevent her from not going into her own bed and curling up beneath the soft sheets. Instead, she walked over to one of the chairs beside the couch Rhys was in, settling in it. She propped her chin up with a fist, observing him from a distance as the moonlight shone on his face and the steady rise and fall from his chest. There was no way she was going to rest when Rhys wasn`t truly out of the woods yet. She would wait for him to wake up.. she had to.

It had been a full 45 hours, almost 2 entire days since he had drifted off. Anyone would've thought he was dead if it wasn't for the slowly rising and falling of his chest... and, of course, the fact he still had a pulse. Any noises made did nothing to wake him... he was in a stupor, almost like a short coma. All the while, it was just darkness inside his mind. Since his conscience was not on- talking about it like he's a frickin' computer- he didn't think about anything. It was just... Peaceful rest. He hadn't moved the whole time either, not even a finger twitch or slight shift. Just dead silence. It was unnerving, but if someone had to guess, they'd likely say his body was mending itself. It was too hard to fuel him and mend him at the same time, so it cut off the fuel and focused on the healing. It's good, if that's what was happening. However, it was very likely that people were starting to worry. People being Phoebe.

.

The only change that happened was he took a slightly deeper breath. Then, five minutes later, his fingers did twitch, and a mere moment later, his eyelids lifted just slightly. With his eyes being closed for so long, even the darkness felt bright, despite it being night. He winced slightly, but that was before the pain came crashing back like a tidal wave. Then he was wide awake, hand pressing against his stomach for a moment. No blood came away. That was good, but it also meant Phoebe had to clean it up, and of course, he felt slightly bad. He wondered how long he had been asleep... barely an hour, since it looked to be the same time, right? No, something was wrong. It was a little brighter than when he had drifted off. Confusion flitted across his expression as he slowly pushed himself up a little, a quiet growl of pain ripping from his throat at the mere movement. His bleary gaze slowly turned around the room, observing the place. Somehow he remembered how bright it had been when he konked out, but he barely remembered anything else. Like how he had gotten here.

.

It was all slowly starting to come back to him. He had said they needed to go somewhere, Phoebe offered her room. He had collapsed on the couch. Before he fell asleep, he remembered her cleaning his wound... his shoulder wound. That reminded him. He glanced down, surprised to see that although his shirt was coated in stiff, dried blood, his wound was surprisingly clean. She must've cleaned it up. His shoulder looked just as good, from what he could see. There was no fresh blood... which meant he hadn't just been asleep for an hour. He wondered where she was- he needed to thank her and ask her what time it was. Concern stabbed at his mind as he realized... depending on how long he had been out, she had probably gone into the study, maybe even tried to clean stuff up. His heart almost seized up at the thought. No, she wasn't supposed to have to do that. That was his job. His burden to bear. His eyes roved the area more frantically, but when he even thought of standing, his stomach ached. He decided to refrain for a moment, fingers curling around the armrest. He needed to make sure she hadn't tried to deal with it. Needed to dig the Graves. Needed to stand. He was relieved to feel that it didn't hurt QUITE as much as it had, and he wasn't QUITE as dizzy, but it was still pretty bad.

Phoebe Nightlingale

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The first twenty-four hours with Rhys being unconscious and steadily healing with his sleep had been incredibly eventful for Phoebe, so eventful that she hadn`t even returned to her chambers later into the night. When the sun had risen, she had still not fallen asleep, her gaze fixated on Rhys as he rested quietly, his body not moving a single inch save for his steady breathing. She had been worried the entire night ever since he had drifted off, but there wasn`t much she could do other than keep an eye on his wounds; that was what was important, along with making sure he was always breathing. Due to how much blood he had lost, she presumed he would sleep a little longer than a person usually would, so when she heard a commotion outside, she didn`t hesitate to stand up and quietly leave her room. Phoebe had been so consumed with worry for Rhys that she hadn`t even realized she was covered in blood, which wouldn`t help the situation that was unfolding one bit. When she exited her room and looked down the hall, she saw a few servants standing outside the royal study, staring at the blood staining on the floor.. that led directly to her chambers. The servants definitely heard the door to her room close, since the three of them perked up and looked over at her. Based on the expressions on their faces, they immediately presumed she had been the one bleeding profusely, which was a fair assumption. One of the older servants, a man she recollected had the name of Alistair, hurried over to her.

``Princess, are you hurt?`` Alistair questioned her once he stopped in front of her, looking her over to the best of his ability. She didn`t respond at first as she stared at him, her thoughts racing. Of course, she should have been smart and remained in her chambers with Rhys, but.. they would`ve been interrogated one way or another since the blood did lead straight to her room. Phoebe noticed how Alistair was worried enough that he was contemplating actually reaching out to guide her to a nearby chair or something of the sort, and that warmed her heart just a little. She looked back over at the other servants that were whispering to themselves, relief flooding her when she realized that these three were on good terms with her. Similar to Rhys, they had known her ever since she was a little girl. That didn`t mean she could trust them necessarily, but she knew she had to come up with an explanation rather quickly, one that they would probably believe regardless.

``I`m fine,`` she whispered in response, moving past him to approach the other two servants. It would seem they were scared of entering the study itself, much like she was; she had no plans on even entertaining the idea of going in there, especially when Rhys had saved her the trouble of going in there to find him last night. Alistair followed her until the four of them were gathered outside the study, a silence hanging over them for a while. Phoebe wished she had created a plan before waltzing out of her room like it had been a normal night, but.. of course, it hadn`t been normal in the slightest.

``Do you.. know what this is about?`` the singular female servant, Rose, asked Phoebe hesitantly, her hands twitching as if she was not looking forward to cleaning up the mess whatsoever. Phoebe knew that the one way she could spare Rhys all the trouble of being accused was this one: tell the servants she had been passing by, that she had heard screams before entering the study and seeing an unfamiliar individual assasinating both her father and General Atius, before she fled back into her room out of fear. It was a reasonable story.. right? God, it was the only one she could come up with at the moment, so she went with it.

``It happened last night,`` Phoebe began, her voice almost.. fearful and shaky; if she wanted them to believe her, she would have to appear shaken in one way or another. ``I was on my way back to my room after spending some time in the gardens. I heard screaming and shouting from the royal study, so I went inside to see what was happening. General Atius was.. already dead, but my father was still fighting him off. I couldn`t do anything- I was too scared. I have no idea who he was, but he killed them-``

``It`s okay, Phoebe,`` Rose spoke reassuringly, cutting the princess off. The servant walked over to her and gave her a brief embrace, one that surprised Phoebe immensely. Had she been that persuasive? She was confused until she realized she had started to shed a few tears halfway through her explanation, something she hadn`t meant to do at all. Fortunately, she didn`t have to explain why she had immediately ran to her room, even if she could have simply said that the individual had raced towards her to kill her next. ``You can go back to your room and clean up, then go get some food. We`ll clean it up and tell your mother and aunt.``

All Phoebe could do was nod and comply with her words, turning around and heading back into her room. She locked the door behind her and settled down beside Rhys again on the floor, just.. watching him. There were a few tears still slowly cascading down her face, an indication that she was more affected by what he had done than she had first believed. A trembling exhale escaped her before she stood up and cleaned herself off in the bathroom, changing out of her bloodstained clothes. The remainder of that day had been a blur. She had been confronted by her sobbing mother in the dining hall while her aunt had embraced her for what had felt like hours in the garden. Phoebe returned to her room that nigt, exhausted and emotionally drained. She had curled up on the chair that she had watched Rhys from the night before, but this time.. she slept.

The day after that one, she kept to herself for the day`s entirety. She avoided anyone that seemed like they wanted to approach her like the plague, turning around to keep to herself and her thoughts. Phoebe felt conflicted about a plethora of things, but she kept reminding herself that she had wanted this.. in a way. Rhys had saved her from the two men that wanted the worst for, but even then.. What if her father had still loved her just the same? What if he was simply hurt and desperate after the assasination attempt that he had wanted to strengthen her, just in the wrong way? Phoebe kept thinking, eventually going out to the gardens where she quietly strolled for the majority of that day.. even up until the sun had set. No one had spoken to her about the evident event that would occur: the funeral, but also.. the day she would no longer be a princess, but a queen. Based on how broken and terrified her mother had been, she knew she was the only one that would be best suited to rule, and that terrified her.

Phoebe Nightlingale

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The very last thing Phoebe had wanted was for Rhys to be punished, maybe even killed for what he had done. If he had been, she would`ve been more broken and uncertain than she was now; even if she was beginning to feel the pain of a daughter that had lost her father, she never felt anger nor hatred towards Rhys, not even once. The memory of her mother sobbing against her, wrapped in her arms was one she wished hadn`t been real, but she reminded herself that it probably would have happened anyways. Apparently, her father and the General had been scheming behind everyone`s backs, planning something that would have sent the entire country into chaos; they would have been killed by their own decisions.. she knew it. Their deaths had ensured that hadn`t happened, even if her family was hurting beyond words could describe. A part of her nagged constantly, telling her she was just making excuses to deal with everything that had happened, and she knew that it was probably true. She wondered, then, if she really would be queen soon and how she would handle it. Her father hadn`t wanted her to rule, had seen her true self so many times that he knew one thing: she was too weak to be a queen, too sympathetic and too trusting towards practically anyone that seemed good-natured and kindhearted.

When the breeze became cold enough that she shivered, Phoebe slowly retreated back into the castle itself, leaving behind the foreboding gardens that were failing at their job to keep her composed and somewhat at peace. She did not pause for anyone or anything, her pace somewhat quick as she headed straight for her chambers. Occasionally, she would hear someone address her, their voices concerned and worried. If she hadn`t been so emotional and vulnerable, she would have at least reassured them that she was fine, that she was merely trying to handle the new weight on her shoulders. She eventually made it back to her room, noticing that the floors looked brand new now despite the blood that had been basically everywhere in the hallway. It would seem the servants had kept cleaning into it was spotless, which both made her feel at ease and a little guilty; she doubted anyone would have wanted to clean up the bloody mess. Phoebe entered her room and closed the door behind her, her blue eyes widening when she saw the empty couch. Rhys had woken up and.. left. For a moment, fear struck her core, her thoughts going to the worst case scenarios. Did someone enter her room and find him here? Had he.. died while she was away and someone had disposed of him? Had he left because he secretly had a different reason to kill her father and the General? It was that last thought that made her realize she was not okay; there was no way in hell Rhys would do that to her.. simply no way.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the sound of soft knocking on her door, her entire body freezing for a moment. She knew it could be a servant, maybe even her mother.. if it was her, she wouldn`t be able to handle another second of seeing her crying all over her. Phoebe took in a deep breath before she walked over and opened the door, her eyes softening just a little despite her exhaustion and emotional state when he saw Rhys standing there. He looked.. okay, like he hadn`t been fatally injured and asleep a few hours ago. She looked him over before she stepped aside and opened her door further, letting him inside if he wished. Of course, it was better for him to be inside her room than outside.. where everyone would see them talking; her father and the General may be gone, but it would still be suspicious. Once he was inside, she briefly glanced to and fro at the hallway, ensuring no one had seen him, before closing the door and locking it. She was quiet for a moment, before she looked over at him.

``Where have you been?`` she asked, more curious than anything. Her voice sounded awfully tired and weak, as if she wasn`t handling any of this well, which was the case, to be honest. Phoebe was relieved that he was awake and up and about, but.. the past two days had been hell with him being asleep. She would never blame him for resting, however, especially when he had defintiely needed it more than anything else.

Rhys practically crumpled at the sound of her voice. It was so... defeated. Tired. No, exhausted. Somehow worse than he felt. His shoulders sagged slightly and guilt trickle into his expression. It was his fault she was like this. He promised to protect her, and yet he failed. He shuffled into her room as she opened the door further, cursing almost silently under his breath when a drop of the blood from his hands fell onto the carpeted floor. "Sorry." He muttered lowly, his heart physically hurting at the look on her face. He leaned heavily against her wall, just wanting to sink onto the ground and fall back asleep. At least he didn't have to worry about life when asleep. He pressed his hands into his shirt, trying to keep the blood away from her clean floor.

.

Her question was harder than it seemed, and he had to rack his brain for a little while as he tried to figure out how to answer. He glanced out the window on the other side of the room, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he thought. "Cleaning up." He finally said slowly, pausing for a moment. "I dug the graves... and filled them in... and cleaned up the study." He finished. His gaze flicked to hers for a mere moment, remorse and regret swirling in the dark depths. Then he looked back at the floor again, his mind plagued with thoughts. "I just wanted to tell you... I can go back to my quarters, if you want." His very voice seemed to wilt slightly. If only there was a way to fix everything. To bring her father back from the dead, make him love her, and everything would be fine. His fingernails dug into his arm slightly, and he bit the inside of his cheek yet again, quickly feeling warm blood flood his mouth. His throat felt like it was seizing up again, so he sucked in a deep breath.

.

Rhys felt almost uncertain as he shifted towards the door, feeling like she wanted him to leave. He didn't know if he could even comfort her. It was his fault, so she wouldn't want his useless words. She would likely not want to see his face for weeks after this. His fingers twitched towards the door handle. He could go and take a nap on his cot, take another shower to get all the dirt off of him, wrap his hands, and be lonely for a little while. He shouldn't bother her, especially when his face probably just reminded her of the fact she didn't have a father anymore. He was more than prepared to leave as soon as she told him to, and was already caught up in thinking about how he could make it better. How he could help in any little way. Nothing he could think of to do would make up for what he had done. Near panic had just about set in by now, and he could feel his heartbeat raising. Impressive that he could speed up his own heart rate just by thinking. He's talented.

Phoebe Nightlingale

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The way Rhys` face fell was what caused her to realize she hadn`t been as composed as she believed, a consolidation of both guilt and uncertainty flashing across her face. She didn`t want him to feel bad whatsoever for the state she was currently in, even if he was.. mostly to blame. Phoebe wanted to reassure him that everything would be fine and that she would recover from everything that happened in one way or another. Her expression did soften, however, when he apologized about the small amount of blood that had escaped from his bandaged wound. She cared more about him than a silly carpet and she figured he had realized that by now; she had let him stay on her couch as he rested while still bleeding a little, for god`s sake. Even if it was hard to listen to him speak about what he had did while he wasn`t in her room, she still kept a calm, neutral expression.. except when he mentioned the graves. Besides, he should have been resting, not working. It hurt a lot more than it probably should have to remember that her father and General Atius were dead.. forever gone; they may have treated her terribly, but they had still been human.. in some way. Instead of replying verbally, she nodded once in acknowledgement. His next words broke her further and she had nearly reached out to him to ensure he didn`t walk away then and there.

``The last thing you need to do is be up and about. You need rest, a break from.. everything,`` Phoebe whispered softly, her voice conveying her worry. Even if she was hurting, she would always put others before herself, especially Rhys of all people. She gestured towards the couch that he had laid in for nearly two days, offering him to simply relax despite everything that was unfolding. ``And you can stay. You`re always welcome in here.``

Rhys was the only one she felt comfortable with staying in her room, the one place she was ever truly herself. It was the one place she cast down all her walls and felt completely comfortable doing so; perhaps it was because her mother often came here whenever her father got a bit.. angry, meaning her room was not a safe place for just herself but for others. If Rhys would allow it, her room would be a sanctuary for him, somewhere he could be himself without worry. Once she was somewhat certain he wouldn`t walk out of her room due to how terrible he was probably feeling about the whole situation, she walked over to the chair near the couch and sat down, sighing and crossing her legs. She gazed up at him quietly, analyzing his features and his stance. Phoebe could tell he was driving himself insane with guilt and it was honestly driving her crazy as well; he shouldn`t feel like this.. not when he had simply been keeping his promise and protecting her from the men that wanted to hurt her. She knew she should be unconditionally grateful for what he had done, but.. it was her father that was making the whole situation more complex.

``You were asleep for quite a while,`` her voice was almost teasing now, an attempt to lighten the mood. She propped her chin up with a loose fist as she casted her gaze to the side, absentmindedly examining the state of her room. Despite everything, it still felt like home.. more so with Rhys inside of it; he was almost like the missing piece that she had never realized she was missing. Friendship really did surprising things to a person.. ``I was afraid you would never wake up.``

Rhys was a mere moment away from leaving, his shoulders feeling heavy with guilt and his stomach sharp with pain, when she reached out to stop him. He paused, but didn't find it in him to look her in the eyes when he glanced over. His fingers twitched with hesitation and he let out a breath. "You might need a break from 'me'." He finally mumbled, his words heavy. They conveyed every dark emotion he was feeling, carried over the deep rooted pain he was feeling. He could tell she was trying to shove away her own feelings to help him, and he didn't want that. "When it comes to me, I want you to take care of yourself first. I've been surviving without a caring someone for years, and it won't hurt me to do it for a bit longer. If there's anything I can do for you, tell me. If you want me to leave, I will. If you want me to stay, I will. Let me take care of you, okay?" He was completely serious as he finally met her gaze with dark eyes, his voice quiet as usual. He was glad that she would allow him here when he needed to come here, but he was focused on her. Not his own problems.

.

He didn't know what was going on her mind...exactly... but he did know now that he messed up, he was going to do everything in his power to make it better. His eyes followed her as she walked over to the chair before he looked back at the window, not moving for a moment. He truly didn't know what she wanted, and he wanted her to tell him. It would make sense if she both wanted him to stay and leave. He couldn't guess for her. He needed words, a straight answer. After a second or two, he moved slowly to the couch, hands still carefully tucked into his shirt so he didn't get anything bloody. He sat down with a wince, jaw tightening as pain wormed its way into his very bones. He was still quiet and withdrawn, the back of his neck prickling. He glanced back, almost jumping out of his skin when he saw Atius. But then the image faded faster than it had appeared. +Shit, now I'm hallucinating.+ He thought, blinking, uneasy as he hunched his shoulders slightly, every muscle tense. Relaxing was not gonna happen right now. Specifically when he could swear he saw her father on the floor, eyes lifeless. He blinked again, clearing his vision, and swallowing down another wave of nausea that threatened to be followed by bile.

.

He glanced up as she spoke, pausing for a moment. "Exactly how long was I out?" He asked quietly. Rhys knew it had to be somewhere in between 2 and 3 days, but that was kind of a big gap. His skin crawled when she said she was afraid he'd never wake up. It wasn't overly emotional, maybe even a quiet joke, but it still went straight to his freak out zone in his mind. "When I fell asleep, I wasn't sure either." He commented lowly, focusing his gaze on his hands so that he didn't risk looking at the floor and seeing the thing that had haunted him ever since he buried them. So not long, but enough that he was already going crazy. He wanted to apologize again, but was afraid it would sound hollow. Every time he said he was sorry, he truly meant it, but he could only repeat it so many times. He tried to muster up the energy or even willpower to say anything else, but his throat seized up and he stayed silent as the dead, dark eyes haunted as he watched a drop of blood roll onto his shirt.

Phoebe Nightlingale

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Phoebe`s gaze never left him as he suggested she needed a break from him, knowing that it was a possibility even though she despised acknowledging it as one. Sometimes, one needed space and it was unavoidable, especially in a situation like the one they were in, and, yet, she knew it was the last thing she needed. She couldn`t handle the weight on her shoulders alone, the sheer weight of it feeling as if it were her life`s worth of pain and suffering crushing her all at once. It was a terrible, dreadful feeling, but it was there.. and it was hurting her. Typically, she would have been able to handle it without any sort of reassurance or comfort, but this time was different. Her father was dead, her mother was in constant distress, and the royals whispered about the unwavering fact that she would be queen far sooner than anyone had expected her to be. The castle was in a state of quiet chaos, a state of unwavering uncertainty and pain that it was slowly consuming her whole. Home didn`t even really feel like home anymore.. At the very least, she still had Rhys. His next words reminded her of just how much he was worried about her, the lengths he would go just to ensure she was- or would be- okay, even if it wasn`t what he wanted to do. Yet, her decision had been made before he had even said the words.

``I need you here, Rhys. You`re the only thing preventing me from truly falling apart,`` it was a real, broken admission from the princess, her gaze as soft as it was saddened. She didn`t say anything else as she stood up from the chair in order to sit down beside him, keeping a small distance between them. This time, she wouldn`t intiate any form of touch, allowing him to determine everything this time. To be fair, she was simply too exhausted and drained to really even think about touching him, whether it be holding his hand or embracing him as she had a few days ago. Her fingers fiddled with each other as she sat there, gaze downcast as she waited for any kind of response from him. She could feel the way he randomly tensed or shifted, uncomfortable as if he were about to be attacked or just.. haunted. Phoebe knew they were both struggling in numerous ways and, well, all they had was each other, to be honest.

``Nearly two days,`` her response was quiet yet honest to his question about how long he had slept for. She had worried day and night during that timeframe, constantly checking on him to ensure he was still breathing and what she presumed to be a somewhat steady pulse. Fortunately, she had still been able to rest, albeit a little, while being worried sick over him. Phoebe had never been so worried or concerned over anyone until him; Rhys was just the one exception to everything, being the one good thing that had ever happened to her. She would never risk loosing the one person that meant the world to her ever again, no matter what the circumstances were.