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"I don't like it." Alfonse frowns, a crease forming between his brows.
You glance up from the delicate glass of sparking water in your hands and up towards the prince when you hear his comment. You mirror the same mar of his lips, though your expression is more subtle and confused rather than upset like him. With an endearing tilt of your head, you ask him to clarify, "Don't like what?"
Both you and Alfonse are together at a grand party hosted by King Gustav himself. Although the Askran prince would have much rather spent his evening going over battle plans to counter Embla's forces instead of satisfying some rich people's egos, he couldn't disobey his father. Because of that, there are many things in this extravagant ballroom that you can think of that Alfonse doesn't like but are unable to think of what it is exactly he's talking about.
The prince takes a step closer towards you, and you catch a whiff of a pleasant scent coming from him. He looks over the room, his expression seemingly displeased.
"The way some of these men are looking at you," he answers low enough so that nobody else can hear him. It might cause some negative rumours and gossip to spread around if others heard the absolute venom in his voice. He directs his attention back to you, blue eyes scanning over your current attire.
You're wearing a beautiful off-shoulder dress with a low neckline. You don't have much to show with your chest, your breasts being more on the smaller side compared to other women, but the outfit still looks good on you. When Alfonse first saw you in it, he thought you looked more beautiful than you already are. He didn't think it was even possible. It seems, however, that some of the party guests ended up clapping their eyes on your figure with their gazes being far less pure and innocent as Alfonse's thoughts.
"I-I'm sorry," you apologize with a slight stutter, bringing your head down to look at the floor. "Am I attracting attention...?"
When King Gustav told Alfonse that his presence as the royal heir at the party was mandatory, the prince was adamant about refusing to go unless you were allowed to come as well. In truth, the blue-haired young man felt a bit guilty for dragging you into his mess for his own selfish reasons, but he simply couldn't bear the idea of suffering through such a stuffy evening alone.
His father only agreed to his demand so long as you don't warrant any unnecessary attention. It seems like due to his sour attitude and opinion on his son joining the Order of Heroes, King Gustav holds disdain for anybody else affiliated with the order, including you, the Summoner, who has already done so much for his kingdom while asking for nothing in return.
Alfonse shakes his head, placing gentle fingers underneath your chin and tenderly tilting it back up so that he can meet your gaze. The frown he was wearing before is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a gentle smile as he looks at your face.
"You haven't done anything wrong," he assures you, his fingers lingering on your skin before he retracts his hand.
He looks around once more, trying to find an area with less people. There are too many prying eyes and prying ears in this ballroom for his liking. Alfonse brings his attention back to you and holds out one hand for you take while the other moves to behind his back as he bows. He moves with the grace and dignity that reminds you that Alfonse is still very much a prince and a gentleman and not just a soldier in the Order of Heroes alone.
"Would you like to join me on the veranda?"
A small and bashful smile makes its way to your features, and you accept his hand. "It'd be an honour."
The two of you share a quiet giggle together at the over-the-top exchange of formalities, something that neither of you need due to the closeness of your relationship already. The young man leads you away from the overwhelming party, his grip on your hand firm and reassuring.
The cold evening air feels refreshing on both of your cheeks as you step outside. You let go of the prince's hand and casually lean against the railing, your drink from before still in between your fingers as your shoulders relax. Alfonse takes his place beside you, his hand resting comfortably on the small of your back, and you breathe out a pleased sigh from his touch.
"It's beautiful no matter how many times I see it," you start, pure awe and admiration in your tone at the myriad of cool and warm colours of the evening sky stretching across the horizon. From here, you can see clearly what it is that you and Alfonse are fighting so hard to protect. "I don't think I'll ever get over just how breathtaking Askr is."
"The breathtaking one here is you," Alfonse replies boldly. Warmth rises to your cheeks at the sincerity in his voice, and you take a sip from your glass as an excuse to not say anything in return. You don't know how to respond to something like that.
The prince breathes out your name, and although you're embarrassed, you turn your head to look at him. His hand leaves the small of your back, slowly trailing up the length of your spine. His fingertips brush along the exposed skin of your shoulders, sending delightful little tingles to course through your nerves. Alfonse places his palm on your flushed cheek, curling his fingers to its shape.
"I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me," he says, eyes brimming with gratitude.
Because of the way you're leaning against the railing, your usual height is lowered, and your breath hitches when Alfonse leans down close to you. Soft lips press against your forehead, his eyes peacefully shut. The prince doesn't pull back straight away, lingering for as long as he can, and your own eyes flutter shut at the gentle sensation of his lips resting on you.