Loke burst into Lucy's bedroom with a bold smile. "Never fear, your prince is here," he shouted. "I heard you were sick, so I came to feed you soup and keep you company."

Lucy moaned and looked away. "Why are you here? I've been puking all morning and probably look like a zombie."

"Ridiculous! Zombies aren't so adorable," he declared and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Some chicken soup to keep up your strength. Say ahhhh."

"Oh, hell no!"

"Come now, princess. Are you able to sit up to feed yourself? I think not!"

"Loke..." she began in exasperation.

"Ahhhhh!" he tried again, nudging the spoon closer to her.

She sighed, gave in to him, and opened her mouth. "Ah," she said with a hint of sarcasm.

Loke looked pleased and slipped the spoon into her mouth.

———

"Hey, Lucy." He spoke the words softer and lightly touched her hand. Her eyes opened a little, but she shut them with a moan. "Your prince is here."

"Loke," she croaked out.

"Hush. You don't need to talk."

"Where...am I?"

"A hospital. Turns out it wasn't just the flu. But don't you worry," he smiled sadly. "The doctors have already started up treatment. And look, Mirajane sent you flowers. Isn't that sweet?"

Without opening her eyes to see the vase, Lucy smiled weakly. Loke stroked her blonde hair off her pallid face. He wished there was something he could do. Battling an enemy was easy, but this...no one but Lucy herself could battle this.

———

"It hurts!"

Natsu and Gray were at her sides to hold her down. Wendy did what she could, but even she had to admit that her magic could only do so much.

"You need the treatment, Lucy," Gray told her.

"I know," she gnashed in agony. "But it huuuuurts!"

Loke appeared suddenly. With Natsu holding her thrashing legs and Gray and Wendy restraining her arms, Loke took position at her head. He held her cheeks, leaned over, and suddenly gave her an upside-down kiss.

"Just hang on, Lucy," he whispered. "You don't have to worry. Your prince is here now. Please, just...just hang on."

———

They all sat in a sterile hallway listening to the soft chatter of nurses and occasional calls for doctors. Gray, Erza, Wendy, Cana, Makarov, Mirajane, Lisanna, Levy, even Gajeel was there. All of their heads were down, each of them lost in dark thoughts.

The door opened and Natsu stepped out. They all looked up with worry, but something in his face told them to keep calm a little longer.

"She wants you," he said to Loke.

The Lion rose and walked into the hospital room. Lucy laid on the bed, a skeleton of the beauty she once was, wires and tubes hooked up everywhere in vain attempts to stabilize her failing body. He sat by her side and took her hand. Her eyes opened, and she smiled weakly.

"Ah, my prince is here," she rasped out weakly. "Feed me some soup," she whispered. "Like that day. I'll even say ahh."

It made him laugh and want to cry. "Believe me, I would, princess, but the doctors said you can't eat."

"Then kiss me, like that one day. It took my pain away."

Loke swallowed down a sob, rose up, and leaned over her fragile body. "That, I can do." He placed his lips against hers. They were dry, cracked, and cold, but he felt he had never had such an important kiss in his life.

"Thank you, Loke," she sighed. She pointed to a folder on the table. "That's for you. Your next owner..."

"No!" he shouted.

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "He's a good mage, young but has potential. He'll treat you and the others kindly."

"No, Lucy!" he cried, and threw himself on top of her.

She struggled to raise a hand up to pat his back. "I'm lucky I met you, Loke. You'll always remember me, right? Eternally. So, at least I won't be forgotten."

He raised up, wiped his tears, and gave her another kiss. "Your name will be carved into the sky to gleam like a diamond."

"Thank you, my prince. Now please, send in the rest. I...I don't know if I can see them all individually."

———

He stood in the rain. Although it was July, it always seemed to rain on this day. At least his new owner allowed his Spirits to have this day off every year for a special birthday.

"Hey Lucy," he whispered, looking down at the headstone. He knelt and set a bowl of chicken soup by the grave. Maybe it wasn't traditional, but he knew she would have liked it. "Your prince is here."

The End