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It started with admiration, that dumb tingly feeling he got when he was around him. He was a role model -- and in truth a really handsome one. He was a proper prince to look up to; he desired time with him, to ask him questions about his tutelage, compare battle strategies between kingdoms, schedule a meeting of the brains, say, over dinner in the study? Laughing over personal stories in the glow of a campfire, one scheduled for watch, the other having a meeting with the mat for a few hours. Being the only two awake as the fire diminished to embers, someone else taking the watch after one finished.
The lingering of hands when a waterskin is passed about. Eye contact in a way much more meaningful than rank...but he had to be tactful, careful. He couldn’t rush in; he had to be certain, absolutely sure, that he had a shot with the Icy Prince of Nifl.
Alfonse didn’t think he had a chance. He didn’t expect that admiration would become adoration, would become such a lopsided crush. He had no choice but to stomach it when Sharena approached him one night, looking shy and earnest, as she is wont to be when she came to her older brother for advice.
“Brother? May I…” She hesitated, cheeks rosen against the biting night air. Alfonse bade her inside his tent, lit by a couple well-maintained candles to stave off the chill.
“What is it, Sharena-”
“WouldyoubemadifIaskedHrídout.”
The words were a tornado of air from her lips, and she looked regretful. Alfonse was silent for a moment.
“...Come again?”
She toyed bashfully with her fingers, her light green eyes fearful to meet his stormy-blues.
“I know that most people here aren’t fond of...different people like us.” she mumbled. “And I...I know you like Hríd, but I kinda like Hríd too. He’s nice, kind -- and kinda funny in that dense way. Admittingly, a little blunt, but he’s honest, at least. And tomorrow we’re gonna be deployed together on a patrol so...I thought I’d...ask him out then.”
Alfonse had no choice; she came to him openly, looking for approval from her older brother. And he knew her feelings to be true; Sharena loved people for who they were, regardless of appearance. This made her a good judge of character as a result. To grant her a shot of happiness, Alfonse would do anything.
Including squash these redundant unrequited feelings for the Nifl Prince.
“I appreciate you notifying me, ‘Rena,” he told her, hard to hear over the sound of his feelings crumbling, “but you’re a woman, he’s a man, and I’m...no one of consequence in this.”
“Alfonse-”
“You both are your own people. You don’t need to ask me for permission or blessing. He’s not my property.” Was his voice harsh? He didn’t mean to be; he was only telling it how it is.
“But you both were--I was just--” Sharena looked like she was on the brink of tears. “I just...I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m not hurt, Shar, I promise.”
Alfonse smiled. He should have looked reassuring, convincing, but there’s a reason why he wasn’t chosen as a morale-booster. He was pragmatic; he knew reality as it unfolded, and rarely allowed himself to be anything but realistic. She didn’t comment on it, though; she hugged her big brother and pecked his cheek.
“Good luck, sister.”
“Thank you, brother.”
She left his tent. It’s much colder than before, or maybe he just didn’t notice the extent of the chill until she left.
--
Everything calculated. All factors measured. This is what made a good tactician, a skilled warrior, a legendary king.
There is such a thing as being too careful, of not taking a leap of faith. Of being scared of the consequences.
Sharena was good at taking those leaps; crossing the gaps where her brother felt it too dangerous to proceed. She was an admirable force of nature, so when she trod back to camp, a crestfallen look behind her content expression, Alfonse took to her side immediately.
“A-are you hurt, sister?” he asked, checking her over for any sign of injury.
“I-I-I’m fine, Alfonse,” she stammered. “I’d like a chance to warm up by the fire, but also…” She glanced around, then lowered her voice to a hushed level.
“He’s all yours,” she whispered, making Alfonse feel a little dizzy, like getting suddenly hit with the effects of inebriation. They both glanced to where Hríd was briefing Anna on their day.
“Wh-what-?”
“You know what I mean,” she replied. “Don’t play dumb, brother, it’s never suited you. He rejected me plainly, telling me he only liked men.”
“O-oh.” Alfonse squeezed her shoulder, not knowing what else to do but apologize. “Sharena, I’m-”
She smiled sincerely and playfully punched his shoulder. “Don’t be sorry, silly! You can’t control his heart, but...I think you at least have his heart.”
Alfonse could feel his own heart start to race. “H-how-”
“Woman’s intuition, Alfonse! What else?” Sharena winked and nudged his ribs. “With as much as you hang around him, I’m sure something has happened between you two.”
The navy-haired prince hugged his sister. While unfortunate for her, these were the exact words he needed to hear, the reassurance he needed to keep pursuing the Nifl Prince.
“I-I’m-- ...Thank you, Sharena.”
“Heh. Anytime, bro.”
--
But even with this new information, just outright asking was the hard part. Alfonse was never any good at feelings, at simply stating what he wanted. Sharena was optimistic, enthusiastic and candid; she put her heart on the line everytime and kept her spirits high no matter the outcome. It took a lot to crush her. It’s why Alfonse admires her so, even though she was younger than he; she never lost heart, even when the situation became bleak. She knew how to take risks in matters such as these.
Perhaps it was the butterflies in his stomach, the caustic nibbling of nerves, but everytime Alfonse was alone with the Ice Prince, the timing felt...not right. The topic was too grim, or there was business to conduct, or the conversation too casual and light, or a battle to fight. And every moment they were alone together, it felt like every eye was on him, making his heart race in panic and granting him cold feet. He considered several times asking Sharena for advice, but while she was more experienced in matters such as these, he didn’t want to further burden her in his matters of heart.
“Did you ask him yet?”
Or maybe it didn’t matter, because she was still his dear sister, and she could tell when he needed a push.
“I...no. No I haven’t.”
“Seriously?”
“...Seriously.”
Sharena sighed, running her fingers through her tingled-pink bangs. “Come ooooooon, what’s taking you so long? He likes you, it’s obvious! ”
Alfonse blinked. This was new to him (though he faintly suspected his feelings returned, he could never be too sure, too careful, lest he be wrong and risk getting shunned entirely). “He...does?”
“Yes!” She grabbed his shoulders and started shaking them. “Where in the worlds have you been? Have you not seen the way he devotes attention to you? He regards your opinion first, he has that moony look when you speak, and I’ve seen him check you out as you walk by. Just. Ask. Him. ”
Alfonse felt his stomach flip. “Shar, I-”
“Alfonse so help me, if you don’t ask Hríd out on a romantic patrol around the perimeter, I’ll have no choice but to tell him about that one story from when we were kids.”
Alfonse gasped. “You wouldn’t dare .”
“Try me, coward.”
--
With his dignity on the line, Alfonse found time to seek Hríd out. The Niflian prince was tending to the fire, his armor beside him. The Askran prince gulped, nervous, but Sharena’s threat loomed in his mind and that steeled his resolve.
“Hail,” he greeted, approaching the fire.
“Well-met, Prince Alfonse,” he replied with a smile.
“You can just call me Alfonse, remember?” The navy-haired man took a seat beside him. “One prince to another, after all.”
“Ah--yes, right, pardon, Alfonse.” There was a thrill that came with him forgoing rank just to say his name. It was so... intimate , so much more casual and relaxed. “In the same regard, please just call me Hríd.”
Alfonse nodded. His heart was racing, his throat felt thick, his tongue heavy with words he needed to say. It was now or never.
“H-Hríd-” Just saying his name alone felt weird, even though Alfonse extended the courtesy first. One of those thing one doesn’t think about unless it’s them.
“Yes, Alfonse?” the Nifl prince rumbled, giving him his full attention with bright cyan eyes.
“W-would you like to patrol the perimeter with me? There’s...something I’d like to ask you.”
What was that in his expression? Interest? Delight? Anticipation? These were good signs, right? Hríd smiled regardless, setting aside the stick he was using to poke the logs.
“I would like that very much, Alfonse.”
--
The night was blessedly quiet; absent of the serenade of crickets, devoid of wind and shaking trees. The snow crunched beneath their feet as they checked the camp’s defenses once, twice, even thrice. And still, Alfonse found it hard to bring the question up. How would he even begin to ask? Bring up Sharena’s failure and go from there? Blurt out his feelings for the world to hear?
Hríd was talking about Nifl with a tone of adoration in his voice and a gleam in his eyes. All Alfonse could do was stare at his lips and battle with the desire to feel them.
They reached their starting point once more. Hríd stopped talking about Nifl and shifted his focus back to Alfonse.
“I think we can rest assured that all is safe tonight,” he said, humor tinging his voice. “Thank you for your company.”
“It-it’s, um, not a problem. I enjoy our time together.”
“As do I. I bade you goodnight, Alfonse.”
Hríd turned to leave, but Alfonse reacted on instinct and grabbed his hand.
“W-wait!”
It just sort of came out. He didn’t mean for it to. But now Hríd was looking back at him like he was a jeweler appraising a gemstone.
“Yes?”
“I-I-um-” The Askran prince stammered uselessly in the face of such...is beauty too cheesy a descriptor? Hríd looked a little amused, squeezing his fingers briefly and gods he has to know, he’s just messing with him.
“Take a moment to find your tongue,” he told Alfonse patiently.
“I-it seems I have problems doing so when it comes to you,” the navy-haired man murmured. Hríd quirked his brow.
“What do you mean?”
He’s kidding.
“You're kidding.”
“I’ve been told my career in comedy colder than Nifl’s winters, so unfortunately, I’m not.”
Alfonse really did have to say it outright.
“Y-you...really don’t get it--get this? ” Alfonse indicated to their hands, still locked together. “Hríd, I’ve been losing my mind trying to work up the nerve to tell you that I’m interested in you.”
“Interested in me?” Hríd cocked his head. Alfonse sighed.
“Remember when Sharena approached you a couple weeks ago and you rejected her?”
“Oh. Yes. I presume she told you that I told her I fancy men.”
“So do I. Sort of. I like both men and women, but right now I...I like you .”
“Oh-- oh!” Realization finally brightened his eyes and flushed his cheeks a beautiful red. “You...do?”
“ Yes! ” How dense can one man be? “I don’t think I was being particularly subtle either. I’m sure half the camp knows I’ve been mooning over you for months.”
Hríd was grinning. “You like me?” he asked again.
“I just said I did, yes--”
And all of a sudden, Alfonse was pulled in close with a yank of their joined hands, and Hríd’s face was much closer. The navy prince was probably red as a berry, especially when Hríd’s other hand cupped his cheek.
“This is wonderful news,” he was saying, voice low, “because as it turns out, Alfonse, I quite like you, too.”
He wasn’t sure who leaned in first. He just knew that suddenly he was kissing Hríd, his lips like soft rose petals and cool like a refreshing glass of water. Alfonse was floored at his sneaking suspicions finally being realized: Hríd liked him back, and his world felt shaken in the most pleasant way. Everything seemed brighter when Hríd finally pulled away.
“Alfonse?” he asked, when all the Askran prince felt capable of was staring. “Are you alright?”
Alfonse returned to the real world, “P-pardon, sire, I-I just….didn’t expect this outcome,” he admitted freely, still floating somewhere near cloud nine. Hríd chuckled like a caramel baritone.
“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle your senses.”
“N-no, don’t apologize for this!” Alfonse protested, waving their still-joined hands again. “ This is welcome, and, well...it’s exactly what I needed.”
“Is it, now?” Hríd rumbled, and he tilted Alfonse’s chin up with his hand again. “Then perhaps I should do it again.”
And he did. And it was just as wonderful as the first time.