His Royal Majesty

The Plague

"Lovino," he said, "can I come in?"

"Yeah, go ahead," he croaked, turning over slowly in bed.

Feliciano sank into a velvet chair by the fireside. "I went to visit the volunteers at the laboratory today."

"Oh," the prince said dryly.

"I've been thinking, maybe we should put more money into research."

"Nonsense, we're already spending so much."

He gazed at the crackling flames. "But I don't want to see bad things happen to good people anymore!"

Something Ludwig had said came to mind suddenly. "Ever since he got the plague, he and Grandfather have both been so scatter-brained and weak. Not like themselves at all."

"That's... That's really nice of you, Feli. You're a nice person, even if you are the world's worst king." He started coughing so hard he had to sit up and bow his head over his elbow. "Can I have some water?" Feliciano ran to where Lovino's bell sat and rung it as hard as he could.

"Um, Prince Lovino," he said, looking at the ground and folding his hands, "I've gotta say something."

"I know already, Jesus Christ! And since when have you called me Prince Lovino?"

"So you know..." he mumbled, "I- I think you... I'm pretty sure you... I hate to say this..." It was as if saying it was true would be what made it true; not the fact that it was happening, it was here, but speaking the words aloud.

"I have the goddamn plague!" he snapped, in a voice that would have been a scream if it were not so weak and hoarse, "I'm probably gonna die! I'm gonna get all of you sick and then some peasant is going to rule Roma. There. I said it."

And suddenly tears sprung to the king's eyes. The thought of Lovino forever sick and bedridden horrified him. Lovino could not waste away, less than a shadow of his former self, as did King Alaric. All because of a kiss.

A servant burst through the door and screamed. "Your Royal Majesty!" she shrieked, "What is wrong?"

He looked up and smiled through his tears. "Lovino would like a glass of water, miss."