My body fucking hurts. I force a breath air winding down a tube shoved down my throat. I feel the constraints of fresh stitches pulling right under my breast. I raise my hand to my neck feeling the replaced stitches, everything now a clean line. I can't speak due to the tubing, but the familiar doctor fills my sights.

"Good evening, Sultana. Try not to move too much. You had a punctured lung, our systems are still restoring it. You also have a deep cut on your neck that was heavily impacting the little ability you had to breath. Both ankles and wrists have severe rashes, your right wrist sprained. Water, food, level dangerously low. Iron below manageable. You're lucky your laying next to me right now." The doctor rambles off. On my Earth, a punctured lung is a death sentence, something that led to you on oxygen for the rest of your life. I look around the ward landing on familiar things from before. The doctor, however, isn't the same person I met originally.

I mumble against the tube. The doctor runs over with a deep groan, "I've alerted the King. He should be here soon. Please, don't die under my watch."

I analyze myself. In truth, I feel no pain throughout my body. I can't feel my fingers, toes, or my face. Every part of me is in this happy bliss that surfs above typical okay. I look to see a saline hook up, another bag of something unidentifiable hooked up as well.

"Ah, here he is."

The door slams open, a crack resonating through the room. I peak over my tightly wrapped breasts to see his beautiful face. His eyes fill with worry, and maybe even love. He runs over to the side of the bed where I lay. His hands hover over my body, not touching me but begging to do so. The doctor looks at the rock that lays across my navel, "She has maybe thirty minutes more, then I can remove the tube. I'll leave you with her while I step away."

The doctor nods to both of us, leaving the room quickly. I move my eyes to Raphael who keeps tracing his eyes over my visible wounds. He drops into the seat thats next to me. Tears flow freely from his eyes, "I'm so sorry. My love, my everything. I should have been able to protect you."

I force myself to sit up, but he tries to lay me down. He keeps his hands on me to make sure that I stay down. Our silence envelops the room, his breathing heavy. I watch him. His body language is tense, eyes tracing over me over and over. I wish I could tell him I feel great, that nothing is bothering me, but it doesn't seem like he would believe me. My body's numb enough that even the sparks I feel from his touch are dull.

The time passes slowly, the doctor coming in with wave, "It's time for me to remove her tube."

He comes over to me readying his hands. I wait patiently for him to remove it, his touch delicate. It felt like throwing up as he removed it, the plastic sliding upwards from my lungs. I force myself to keep it together grabbing at Raphael hand. He holds tight comforting me against the intrusive tubing. I let his thumb caress against mine, my eyes locking with his as soon as I find my voice.

"Sultana." He whispers once more towards me, his palm laying against the side of my face. His cloak lays in a pile in the corner of room, a subtle note that I am more important than any power he might hold.

"Ra-Ra..." I try to get it out, but my throats dry. The doctor hands me a glass of water letting me chug it. I clear my throat a couple times before trying once more, "Raphael. I... I love you."

"You what?" He stutters his words, "Say it again."

"After everything, after all the fucked up this world offers, I've found comfort in you. Whether it's this bond, or the drugs I am on, I love you and I want to give this a real chance."

I sit up and he moves with, both hands on the sides of my face now. I meet his eyes as he moves to standing, "I love you, Sultana Wild. You are my everything."

"And it's only been what? A week?" I laugh, my chest keeping up with me.

"I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you." He kneels down, our lips ghosting over one another, "And I'll love you for the rest of our lives."

"My devil." I whisper back, slamming my lips against his. The sparks elevate, our bond cracking between us. I try to press into him, not caring about whose in the room.

"My queen."