Angel woke slowly, feeling much more sluggish than usual. For a moment, he thought he felt a gentle breeze on his face, but it disappeared as soon as he felt it. His face merely felt warm, but he couldn't tell why, as his eyes were particularly disinclined to open.
He heard brisk footsteps approaching, then entering the room. "How is he?" a harsh voice asked.
"Better, your Majesty," was the hushed response.
"Woken up yet?"
"Not yet."
"Inform me when he does." Angel again heard the footsteps, this time leaving the room. Finally, and with great effort, he managed to drag open his eyelids.
That was when he discovered why he felt so warm.
He was bathed in sunlight.
With a blinding speed and a muffled yell, he leaped out of the bed. As he retreated from the sunny window, he panted heavily, barely registering the sounds of surprise coming from the person who had been caring for him.
Angel realized there were more than a few things wrong with the picture before him. There was the fact that the room he was in consisted entirely of stone, with walls covered with tapestries and armor. There was the fact that he was dressed in a nightshirt such as one would find in history books. Most of all, there was the fact that his skin was still intact after prolonged sun exposure, besides which, he was panting. As in breathing. Furthermore, he almost fell over as he looked across the room and saw someone in the mirror.
Himself.
He could be forgiven for fainting, in such shocking cirumstances. He could be, but he won't, because he didn't faint. Instead, he ran to the mirror, looking at his face for the first time in two and a half centuries. It was like seeing someone and recognizing them, without really knowing who they are. He grinned as he reexamined his long-lost face, until another thought hit him and he dashed away from the mirror. He jumped back onto the bed, throwing open the window and laughing out loud as he basked in the morning sun. He had always sworn that if he ever found humanity again, he wouldn't waste it like he had the first time. So he hung out the window, laughing like an idiot, practically inebriated with joy as he sunbathed in his nightgown.
He almost fell out when he felt a hesitant hand on his back, but managed to retain his grip on the sill. He reluctantly pulled his head inside to discover the person who had witnessed his recent antics. He saw a young man about his age ('Age! I have age!' A voice in his head cried), arms crossed, with a quizzical expression on his face.
"Feeling better, are we?" he asked wryly.
"You have no idea," Angel replied sincerely. The other man smiled in response. "Come on, Angel, let's get you dressed." He gestured towards a chair, and Angel walked over to see what he would be wearing. He smiled again at the difference between the clothes he began putting on and what he usually wore in his own world.
Here there were no silk shirts or long mysterious dusters. Black was usually only for mourning, and there were absolutely none of the white t-shirts he had worn in the past.
His breeches were leather, but not at all like the pants Angelus had preferred, being soft and tan. He pulled a full-sleeved shirt over his head that laced up at his neck, then shrugged into a velvet doublet. Once his leather boots were on, he walked over to the mirror again, convinced that he would never tire of looking at his reflection.
'That's me,' he thought. 'That's what other people have been seeing all these years. Those are my eyes, that's my nose, that's my mouth, that's-- whoa, what is up with my hair?' His thoughts were interrupted, however, as his companion grabbed him by the arm.
"C'mon, Angel, let's go. Oh, wait, I guess I should ask if you're feeling well enough to leave your room." Angel nodded. "Fine, fine, let's go." He was hoping they would be going outside...in the sun...during the daytime...
As they left his bedchamber, they passed an older woman in a maid's uniform. "Hey, Aggie, where's the king?" She smiled fondly. "He went out to resolve the final details of the peace agreement, so you all can probably break your fast in peace, Garwin." She had not seen Angel behind him, but dropped into a curtsy as he stepped out into the hallway. "Are you feeling better, highness?"
Angel frowned at Garwin, not liking the implications of the curtsy or the word 'highness'.
"He's feeling much better, Aggie," Garwin answered, looking oddly at Angel. She straightened up, still smiling.
"You had us all a bit worried there, Prince Alaric."
****
Angel sighed again as he stabbed his fork at the ham on his plate. It was the first time in over two hundred and forty years that he was eating food for nourishment instead of entertainment, and he couldn't enjoy it.
Perhaps he was overreacting. He was thrilled to be merely human, so maybe it didn't matter that he was...royalty. The only thing he really missed from his old life (using the term loosely) was Buffy, and he missed her anyway, since he had moved to LA. He at least seemed to have friends here...
Friends.
Willow.
He practically choked at the thought. Here he was, so excited about being human and confused about being a prince that he hadn't remembered her until now. Where was she? Was she alright? He was responsible for her well-being, and he didn't even know where she was. How would he find her? Coming out of his frantic thought-processes, he saw Garwin looking at him strangely.
"What?" Angel asked.
"You've been acting oddly all day, Angel. What's wrong with you?"
Angel couldn't figure out a way to avoid the question, so he ignored it instead. "Why does Aggie call me Alaric if you call me Angel?" Garwin looked surprised at the question, answering nonetheless.
"Alaric is one of your real names, Angel is what your mother called you before she died, so your friends call you that as well. There was a time you answered to nothing else. Your father, of course, beats anyone he hears calling you by your 'insipid nickname', as he refers to it. He doesn't feel it lives up to the names he gave you. They're all about war and power, and not many people are going to be frightened of a warrior named Angel."
Not unless they have good reason to, Angel thought.
"You already know all this, Angel," Garwin continued. "Why all the questions you could answer yourself?"
"I...I just want to hear your version of it, that's all."
"Right. So shall we go visit your horse? He's been worried about you."
Angel, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to look for Willow later, rose from his chair. "Let's go."
He followed Garwin through the castle courtyard, trying not to stop and sunbathe.
"So, are you looking forward to meeting your bride tonight?" Garwin asked. Angel froze, and for a few timeless moments, even the sun was forgotten.