The King's Collie

Part V, Chapter 6: Lux Æterna

It was the very next morning that Felix awoke with his love, once again. The sun that had provided the colors for the royal portrait the day before was now shining through the window, and light filled the room to fulfill its natural duty of the royal awakening. The lion blinked his eyes open, and yawned, holding Cameron close to his chest. This soft collie, his smaller figure moving with each breath. To hold him close was heaven on earth.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" he said to himself, petting the dog's head and running his thumb along the white streak from his nose to his head. Cameron still slept soundly, for a good couple more minutes, before yawning, and smiling.

"Mm. Good morning," the canine chuckled, and kissed his King's lips. He then snuggled into the feline's soft mane, burying his snout in fluff while his body rubbed against the larger male's.

"Mmph. Good morning, dear," the King replied in his deep and soft growl, kissing back once more.

The usual morning routine was taken, and Cameron looked out the window. "A beautiful day. The garden must be splendid!" he eagerly said.

"It really must be," the lion remarked, "though with a morning like this, the afternoon could bring storm."

It was with that remark that Marco immediately burst through the door, face pale.

"Marco!" Felix gasped, covering himself. Cameron was still in bed, but peeked over the covers, revealing his presence. Knowing this secret was exposed to one of the last people in the court who didn't fully know already, the king covered his head. "I can explain, I can explain. Cameron and I—" he started.

Marco shook his head and blurted over this, as it was unimportant now.

"Ophelia is sick," he howled.

"What— I'd hope not? How sick!?" Felix roared.

"Very sick, Felix," Marco said. He lifted his head. He had been crying.

A grave, sick silence momentarily fell.

Cameron and Felix quickly got dressed, and ran down the hall as fast as they could.

—

The Queen laid in her bed, looking at the ceiling's pattern. She then looked at the face of her mother and father, in the portrait on the left wall. She thought of how much she missed them... how her mother always hugged her tight, and how her father was a kind, not at all demanding one. People mocked the young Ophelia for her free spirit, and how she tended to the wretches on the street. Now they all loved her. She turned to her side, gasping, and crying out in wretched pain. She didn't know what was causing it, but it spread from her stomach to her chest, to her legs and to her arms. She was in all regards paralyzed. She didn't have an appetite. She was pale, unbelievably so, and her eyes grew wearier by the hour.

Felix, with Cameron close behind, got permission from the castle nurse to step in the room. He gasped, and covered his mouth.

"Felix," Ophelia shook as she explained. "I am glad you're here."

"Ophelia," the king stammered, at a complete loss for words. He started to quiver as well, and knelt, as he took closer of a look. "Oh, my God."

Marco was at the doorway, choking on his own restrained sobbing.

Cameron took a step back, and ran right away, down the hall, through another, and back into his own, smaller room again. No, no. This couldn't be happening. It was something out of his nightmares— seeing his queen look as deathlike as his mother when he saw her last, like he did just then.

He knelt by his bed, and vehemently prayed in the high language. He may have stumbled upon a few words, but this would be excusable, considering the circumstances, though he barely got the amen out before crumbling and sobbing.