Trope: Healer x Poisoned Prince | Slow Burn | Political Intrigue
Pairing: Fuma x Yuma
Tone: Tension, quiet affection, unraveling truths

🕯️ Scene One: The Fall

It happened during dessert.

The court was laughing—half drunk on wine and flattery—when Prince Yuma's goblet hit the floor.

He collapsed two seconds later.

Gasps. Screams. Swords half-drawn and too slow.

Only Fuma—the royal apothecary—moved fast enough to catch him.

Yuma's skin was already paling. Breaths shallow. A thin trail of blood at the corner of his mouth.

"Poison," Fuma whispered, checking his pulse. "But not fatal. Not meant to be—not yet."

The royals bickered. The guards argued. No one noticed Fuma pulling the prince into a hidden corridor beneath the banquet hall.

No one but the one who poisoned him.

🌿 Scene Two: The Hidden Room

Fuma laid Yuma on a cot in his private apothecary chamber.
Lit with lanterns. Thick with the scent of herbs and crushed bitterness.

He worked quickly. Poured water laced with binding moss into Yuma's mouth. Wiped blood with trembling hands.

Yuma groaned once.

"Welcome back," Fuma muttered. "Don't speak. You'll only make it worse."

Yuma blinked at him, unfocused.

"Wasn't... strong enough to kill me?"

"Not the dose you drank."

A pause.

"Then it wasn't meant for me."

Fuma hesitated.

"No," he admitted. "It wasn't."

🐍 Scene Three: The Target

Fuma had been working with court potions for years—long enough to know what he wasn't supposed to know.

He recognized the compound.

It was one he'd made himself. Months ago. Requested under royal seal. Never deployed.

Until now.

"It was meant for me," Fuma said softly.

Yuma looked at him. No jokes. No smirk. Just sharp, alert eyes.

"Why?"

"Someone wants me gone. Quietly."

"Then why'd I drink it?"

Fuma shook his head.

"You picked up my glass."

🖤 Scene Four: The Tether

Yuma wasn't released to the palace. Not yet. Fuma kept him hidden in his chambers, claiming fever.

Every night, he checked his pulse. Changed his bandages. Re-infused the antidote.
Every night, Yuma got stronger.

And Fuma's guard fell apart in pieces.

"You don't talk much," Yuma said one evening.

"Talking doesn't heal people."

"Maybe not. But it helps."

"That why you always say the wrong thing in public?"

Yuma grinned faintly.

"Only when it makes the right person look."

Fuma looked away.

"I didn't mean to care about you," he said too quietly.

"You don't have to."

"It's too late."

Yuma reached out.

Touched his hand.

Fuma didn't pull away.

🩸 Scene Five: The Trap

Fuma left a message in the palace garden. A test.

The same person who requested the poison came looking for it again.

This time, they were met with guards.

Yuma's guards.

The Queen's steward was dragged through the halls in chains.

He confessed quickly: he'd ordered the poison to silence Fuma—who knew about backdoor deals and blood-stained ledgers.

"Why Yuma?" the King demanded.

"Wrong glass."

🕊️ Final Scene: The Quiet After

Yuma recovered.

Fuma returned to his garden of vials and silence.

But one night, the door opened without a knock.

Yuma stood there.

No robes. No crown. Just a scar where his life nearly ended.

"You said it was too late to stop caring."

Fuma stared.

"I meant it."

"Good," Yuma said. "Because I've been trying to stop thinking about you, and it's not working."

Fuma didn't smile.

But he stepped forward.

And finally—after days of stolen breaths and quiet longing—kissed him.

Once. Then again.

"You're still reckless," Fuma whispered.

"You're still here.

They never speak of the poison again.
But Yuma never drinks from anyone else's cup.
And Fuma never lets him leave without touching his hand—
just to be sure.

👑 Flash-Forward: "Royal Healer to the Crown"

It's been a year.

The palace has changed.
The power has shifted.
And Yuma, now more than just "the reckless second prince," has been named heir.

And at his side?

Fuma, no longer hidden in basement apothecaries and secret corridors.

Officially: Royal Healer to the Crown.

Privately: Everything else.

The announcement is quiet but clear—delivered at a public council gathering. No room for objection.

"His knowledge saved my life," Yuma says. "More than once.
His presence will save the crown."

No one dares question it.

But they all understand the message.

He can't name Fuma his consort.
But he's made him untouchable.

And when they walk through the palace halls now—no one dares look too long.
But no one misses the way Yuma always reaches for Fuma's wrist first when danger brushes the air.

🥀 Poison Twice

The second attempt isn't as loud.

No banquets. No goblets.

Just a note delivered to Yuma's chambers. A sealed vial marked "urgent remedy."

Fuma opens it.

Smells it once.

And understands.

He knocks the cup from Yuma's hand too late—some has already touched his lips.

So Fuma drinks the rest.

Without hesitation.

Yuma watches him collapse.
And for the first time in his life, the prince is truly powerless.

🌑 The Recovery

Fuma's unconscious for four days.

Yuma doesn't leave his side once.

He speaks aloud as if Fuma can hear. Rage and fear in equal parts.

"You were supposed to be smarter than me. You were supposed to stop doing reckless things."

"You're the one who always takes the risk," he whispers, voice cracking. "This wasn't your turn."

But Fuma survives.

Barely.

When he wakes, Yuma's hand is already on his cheek.

"You're an idiot," Yuma says hoarsely.

"So are you," Fuma croaks.

"I almost lost you."

Fuma smiles, weak and lopsided.

"Not yet."

Yuma leans in.

"Never."

💬 Final Line (Dual Ending):

The court sees a title.
They see a healer with strange influence.
A prince with a reckless streak, reined in by quiet company.

They don't see the second cup.
The antidote bought in blood.
Or the way Yuma still kisses the inside of Fuma's wrist—
where the poison nearly stopped his pulse.