This chapter contains descriptions of alcohol and drug use as well as drug overdose that can be triggering for some readers. Reader discretion is advised. The author does not support or condone any kind of substance abuse.

Orion stared at his blurry form in the front mirror. He blinked once. He blinked twice. Then he raised his hand and gave himself a resounding slap.

His well-styled braid stayed exactly the way it was. His cheek began to take on a shade of red he had never seen (not on himself, at least). His skin remained sallow, looking outright jaundiced in patches because of the -

He sniffed his forearm. "Lemon," he groaned. "I wasn't high." The Crown Prince of Mevinje really had saved his life, dyed him yellow, threatened to murder him and then braided his hair.

Giving his head a thorough shake, he moved to the kitchen to fix himself breakfast. The counter was a mess - dirty utensils and spilled food were scattered all over, staining the dusting of fine white powder that was spread from corner to corner.

Guilt pooled in Orion's gut as he surveyed the aftermath of the previous night's drug binge. Even now, the craving for the drug was hammering the inside of his skull like a toxic woodpecker. He couldn't think straight. Back and forth he went: he needed cocaine. No, he didn't. But he couldn't function without it anymore. Yes, he had and he could. If he felt better, he'd do better at his job and earn more. His mood had nothing to do with his salary. It couldn't get any worse, so why bother quitting?

"NO!" Orion slammed his fists on the two-person dining table squeezed into the kitchen. "STOP THINKING!" He turned and punched the wall. "STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP!"

"HEY!" His neighbor, a middle-aged man with an affliction of his own - alcoholism - bellowed. "KEEP YOUR PROBLEMS TO YOURSELF, JACKASS!"

Half-crying, half-laughing, Orion fell to his knees. He was up to his ears in trouble. His hands were shaking too much to cook, he had no money to buy food and he had work in an hour. The kingdom's future King knew he was guilty of illegal substance abuse. His current bosses had already put him on probation, and he had only six more months to successfully quit or he would be removed permanently from his post at his full-time job.

Desperation and frustration brought his sanity to a grinding halt. His eyes snapped to the bathroom, where his stash was stored in two old medicine bottles.

A little couldn't hurt, right? By the time he got to work, he'd be sober enough to function.

Guilt flooded his system as much as did anticipation as he headed for the bathroom, spoon and lighter in his hand.

*

"I am so, so, so stupid," grumbled Culver as he glared out of his car window at the street where he had met Orion. "If he blabs, he and I are both in deep trouble."

A week had passed since Culver had done Orion's hair for him and sent him on his way with an amicable smile and another half-serious threat of death if he talked about the events of the previous night. It wasn't until the next morning that Culver had realized Orion couldn't be trusted to keep his mouth shut if he got high. But the man was gone now, vanished into the millions that roamed the streets of Emmer. Culver had not exchanged phone numbers with him, nor had he asked for any details about his workplace or his home. No matter how conspicuous Orion's height and hair were, finding him was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

And then it had dawned on Culver that Orion had been a hotel manager. Almost fainting with relief at finding a lead, he had Googled "Orion hotel manager Emmer." The result had made him drop his phone.

The bum-Orion Culver had met was what had become of Orion Blake, manager of Grand Memoria, the luxurious five-star crown jewel of Mevinjean hotels and one of the most famous in the world. The Orion of the past was a majestic specimen of a man, with long limbs, a broad chest and strong shoulders filling out a well-tailored suit, hair swept back and left open in a cascading sheet of light brown, and a bright, intelligent twinkle in his stone-colored eyes. At thirty, he was the youngest man to ever manage such a prestigious hotel, and he had been interviewed by Time in addition to being on the Forbes Thirty under 30 list.

So what had caused his precipitous fall?

"And there comes the man himself," Culver noted triumphantly as the familiar coat made an appearance on the steps of the same bar. "I knew he'd turn up eventually."

Again Orion executed his peculiar sideways walk rather reminiscent of an inebriated shifaka, but this time Culver was ready. Promptly, the Prince crossed the street, grabbed Orion by the arm and dragged him back to his car without much resistance. Shoving him into the car, Culver drove back to the palace and took Orion to his room, telling the startled servants that he was simply helping a drunk friend.

"Alright, where is it!" Culver whirled to face Orion the moment the door was shut behind them and took off his coat. He began to roughly turn out its pockets, searching for packets of cocaine. Orion lay on the floor passively, too high to protest or to even know what was going on. Eyes almost-closed, nose running, body hot as a furnace, he remained limp as Culver stripped him of his boots and clothes till he was in nothing but his underwear.

"Aha!" Triumphantly, Culver held up two small baggies of white powder that had been concealed in the toe end of Orion's boots. "Not very imaginative, are ya?" He lightly smacked Orion's cheek.

Something wasn't right. Orion was way too warm, and the groans issuing from his throat were no longer intoxicated ones, but those of pain. His breath came in short, irregular gasps, his trembling was uncontrollable and sweat was pouring down his body in rivulets.

Culver shot to his feet in alarm. Casting one last frightened look at Orion, he turned and ran. Himself panting because of his panic, he rammed his finger on the intercom button. "Ask Dr. Deo to get to my room! NOW!" he ordered.

A male voice - the steward - answered. "What's wrong, Your Highness? Are you hurt?"

"It's not me! Hurry and call the doctor, and don't breathe a word about this to another soul, you understand?"

"...yes, Your Highness."

"And send a washcloth and a bucket of iced water to my room."

By the time a dignified "As you wish, Your Highness," filtered through the speaker, Culver had already skidded back into the bathroom. Grabbing Orion by the armpits, he dragged him into the large jacuzzi and turned on the water.

"Argh!" Culver's muscles spasmed and cramped the moment the icy water hit his back. Gritting his teeth in pain, he sat down with Orion between his legs, the latter's torso propped against his own. The larger man shuddered convulsively as the cold water hit his skin, and a loud, pained whimper escaped his throat. "Hang in there," Culver murmured, guiding Orion's lolling head to his own shoulder. Leaning backwards out of the stream of water so Orion could breathe easier, Culver tenderly brushed strands of wet hair off the former's face. Cupping water in his hands, he repeatedly dabbed it on Orion's forehead. "Stay with me, you hear? Stay with me."

Culver's phone rang, making him jump out of his skin. It was the doctor. "Y-Yeah," he answered, trying to stop his teeth from chattering.

The doctor was straight to the point. "What are your friend's symptoms?"

"Very high fever, tremors, he's in pain and he's not breathing properly."

"Check his pulse."

"It's rapid. Very rapid. And weak."

"Okay, got it." The clanking and rustling in the background told Culver that the doctor was gathering the required equipment. "Any idea what could have caused this?"

Culver hesitated. "Don't hide anything if you know," said Dr. Deo. "It could cost your friend his life."

Please, let me not regret this, Culver prayed before answering. "He's high on cocaine, I think that has something to do with this."

The doctor urgently whipped out a series of instructions to someone that Culver couldn't comprehend in his own panic. "...put them in the van," came Dr. Deo's voice. "Culver. Culver! Are you with me?"

"Yes..."

"I'm on my way. Is your friend conscious?"

The groaning had stopped. Culver's heart seemed to stop too. "No," he said, his voice shaking.

"He's probably overdosing. Get him out of that shower, now. Lay him down on his left side and bend his left leg at the knee so it makes a right angle. Make sure his airway is clear. Keep checking his pulse and breathing, and get him to the hospital immediately if he starts turning blue."

It took considerable effort for Culver to get Orion out of the shower, weakened as he was by being soaked and chilled to the bone. He spread his thick comforter on the bathroom floor and lay Orion on it, positioning him as Dr. Deo had instructed and then covering him with a sheet. The water had arrived by then, and Culver began to sponge his face, arms and legs to bring his temperature down.

Ten minutes later, Dr. Deo stomped into the room, closely followed by the butler. The Royal doctor was a heavyset, wheat-skinned Indian with wavy brown hair and dark brown eyes sitting above a long, aquiline nose and a permanently frowning mouth. He was also fiercely loyal to the young Prince and would take Culver's secrets with him to the pyre. Culver immediately felt a welcome sense of relief upon seeing him and sat back onto his haunches with a tired smile.

"You did well," remarked the doctor, starting to check his patient's vital signs. "Do you happen to have the drug he used?"

"Harry, could you bring me that boot by the entrance?" The butler complied. "Thank you. Let's keep this between the three of us, okay, Harry?"

"Of course, Your Highness. I will not breathe a word about this - unless that man hurts you."

Culver smiled warmly. "Thank you, Harry. You're a peach." Turning to Dr. Deo, he turned the boot upside down and shook out the two bags he had found earlier. "I found these on him. They're sealed, but I've seen him high before in the same place as I found him today, so they might be the same as whatever's in his system."

"I'll need to get those analyzed. Now, as for him - turn his head, I need to check if his lips are blu - hey bhagwaan, that's Orion Blake!"

Culver stared at the stunned doctor. "You know him?"

"He's personally overseen the arrangements for medical conferences at the Memoria only a dozen times! Of course I know him, why is this dear boy in such a condition?!"

"I don't know. I met him last week."

"And you don't consider bringing a stranger into the castle a security risk? You're lucky he's not a suspicious fellow!"

Culver lowered his gaze contritely. Gently, he took Orion's hand in his own and rubbed it. "I couldn't leave him alone," he said. "I don't know why. Since the moment I laid eyes on him, I couldn't leave him be."

"It's not like you to be this impulsive." Dr. Deo injected Orion with something and gave a satisfied nod. "Well, it's too late for regrets. Now - his blood pressure's a little high, but his breathing's improved and his temperature's almost normal. I've given him something to calm the tremors and regulate his blood pressure; I'll stay here till he's back to normal."

"What happened to him?"

"It's as I suspected - drug overdose. He's lucky to have survived it without needing a hospital. I didn't see any injuries, but do you suspect anything?"

"No. He hasn't fallen or anything, although I was rather rough with him when I was searching him for the drug." Culver ducked his head in apology at the doctor's reprimanding glare. "He annoys me," he bleated.

"Be nicer to him. He's a good man, and I wonder what befell the fellow to make him turn to drugs. Mr. Gregson, please help us move him to the bed."

Half an hour later, Orion had been cleaned, clothed and tucked into Culver's own bed. Culver had also dried off and changed into dry, comfortable clothing. He refused to leave Orion's side and stayed seated next to him on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the sleeping man's fingers. Dr. Deo sat in the chair Orion had favored during his first visit, and Harry Gregson brought in warm soup and breadsticks before retiring.

"You're acting strange," said Dr. Deo after listening to the entire story of Culver's encounters with Orion. "I thought he annoyed you, so what's with the sudden affection?"

Culver blushed. "I was so scared," he said, absently curling and uncurling Orion's forefinger. "I thought he was going to die. I regret being so mean to him."

Ah, here was the real Culver Ermine - kind, sensitive and extremely caring. The old doctor was not fond of the angry, distant and sadistic mask the prince had gradually developed since the age of thirteen. He was glad to see that Culver still retained his original loving nature, rare though its appearances may have become. "You needn't feel guilty," said the doctor. "His drug use isn't your fault. His overdose isn't your fault."

"I don't want to see him go through this again. I don't want to see that depressed figure of his, Dr. Deo. Can't I help him quit?"

"Depression is almost inevitable during drug withdrawal, Culver. And you cannot help him if he doesn't want you to. What brought this on?"

"I don't -"

"Does this have something to do with Daniil or Caolan?"

Culver flinched, and Dr. Deo momentarily regretted bringing up such a sensitive topic. "Maybe?" the Prince responded, and when he looked up his eyes were wet.

"There was nothing you could have done in both cases, Culver. We've been over this. You need to stop obsessing over what could have been."

"I know." Culver unconsciously squeezed Orion's hand as grief threatened to overwhelm his self-control. "I just...don't like feeling helpless. Like I could have done something, but I didn't." Despite his best efforts, a tear dripped into his lap.

"I understand. But your misplaced sense of powerlessness is clouding your judgement. This cannot happen again, Culver."

"I know."

"I'll indulge you this one time because I care about that boy too. But you pull something like this one more time: I'll have you sent away to some remote corner of the kingdom for therapy, and you won't see a grain of Emmer's soil until your hair turns grey!"