The captain would surely not be pleased to find out his new captive was not only prissy, prim, proper, and all that you could expect of a princess, but also not a morning person. Or a being awake in general person, it would seem. It wasn't uncommon for her to sleep for twelve hours on a regular night, after a party or an exciting day she had been known to sleep for sixteen or more, spending most of the day tucked away in bed. Of course it hadn't mattered before, she was a princess with a private suite that she was free to do what she wished in, not jobs to attend to, no one to tell her she must be awake and doing otherwise. She wasn't about to let her kidnapping get in the way.

At one point she had awoken, her eyes hadn't adjusted to the cabin but she didn't see any signs of the captain. Perhaps he found himself somewhere else to sleep, a more proper arrangement. Fixing her shift and blankets she curled back up and returned to her slumber as if it was nothing. It was to be envied, her ability to fall asleep so quickly and stay asleep through most things. Her hair had come unpinned and the chestnut curls were wild, spread across the pillow. There was a smudge of dirt across her brow, something she would not be pleased to know was there, and her eyes, despite the amount of sleep she was in the process of still getting, were ringed with black circles. She wouldn't look or feel much like a princess come morning.

===

He wanted to spit up the disgusting concoction she had forced down his throat, it only made him thirsty and feel like his mouth was on fire. He groaned and his eyes rolled back, struggling to focus on anything but how terrible he felt at that moment. Was she trying to kill him? It sure felt like it, yet she didn't seem like it... he didn't think she'd risk it while stuck on the ship with these men who wouldn't believe her, even if it was an accident.

Gerard grumbled in response, he wanted to reach out, to have her comfort him in what he was sure were his last few hours. To be done in by a pansy in metal armour was one of the worst fates he could imagine, but at least they had taken out the King's ship. That was a small comfort to him. He couldn't protest her choice to sleep on the floor, because blackness came to claim him and he fell into a restless, fever induced sleep. He continued to sweat and curse, even while he slept, but he didn't move much, his body too sore, the pain too great, which was good for his stitches at least.