Work Text:
Guang Hong approached the base of the tower, the scorching hot corpse of the dragon slowly cooling behind him in the chilly winter air. He padded the circumference of the tower but there was no way in, no door or window save the one at the very top. He hadn’t expected any different, but it would have been foolish not to check. Guang Hong sighed, sheathed his sword, and grabbed hold of the vines that twisted thick and thorny around the tower. Up it was, then.
The climb was relatively straightforward once he’d started, for which he was grateful; with no way in, there would be no way out for him and the prince aside from the one he was currently traversing. Guang Hong wished he’d thought to bring an extra pair of gloves. He would be honor-bound to offer his pair to the prince for the descent, which meant he himself would be doing it bare-handed. Thorns and all.
It was about an hour’s solid climb before his hand reached up and grabbed sill instead of vine. Guang Hong let out a sigh of relief and hauled himself up until he could get his other hand on it and pull himself through.
He lay on the floor for a few minutes, catching his breath and staring at the ceiling of the tower room. It was vaulted, which made sense, and looked sturdy. There was a thick layer of dust on the floor but Guang Hong didn’t let it bother him. He’d be meeting the prince sweaty and covered in dragon’s blood anyway, so what was a bit of dust in his hair?
Finally, Guang Hong forced himself to sit upright and look around. The room was completely bare, except for the bed. From this angle Guang Hong couldn’t see the top of it, just the solid wooden frame and footboard. He got his knees under him, pushed himself up to standing, and got his first look at the prince.
He was handsome, Guang Hong noted absently. Symmetrical features, long bronze hair swept back across his forehead. His hands were crossed on his stomach, and he was dressed in dusty royal finery. He looked like Guang Hong had imagined he would look, except for the finer details of his face. Guang Hong had never gotten that far in his thinking.
Guang Hong approached the bed. The prince’s face was calm, like he was really sleeping instead of enchanted. His eyes were lightly closed, as if the softest noise could open them, and his mouth lay closed and waiting. Lurking, Guang Hong might say, if he weren’t being so determinedly brave.
It was time. The wise women had told him what to do once he got here, and he’d gotten here. There was only one way to break the curse, after all, and Guang Hong was clearly the one to do it. He was the only one who had made it this far, after all. He’d been the one to slay the dragon. He’d been the one to make the climb. He had to be the one to kiss the prince.
He didn’t want to, was the thing. He hadn’t wanted to when he’d been handed the sword and told to go on a quest, and he hadn’t wanted to when he killed the dragon, and he didn’t want to now, looking down at the prince’s sleeping face. He didn’t even know the prince, not really, not beyond how every citizen of the kingdom knew him. Kind, fair, loved music, was a light-footed dancer - that was the sum total of what Guang Hong knew about the prince. He didn’t even know his name.
But there was nothing for it. He had to - the kingdom was waiting for him to do it. The prince had been asleep for months, while omens were foretold and portents read and Guang Hong selected to do the deed. Even now, the wise women were fighting their way through to the castle, waiting for Guang Hong and the prince to come down from the tower and turn the prince into the king. He had to.
As a preliminary measure, Guang Hong sat down on the bed. A cloud of dust erupted around him, making him cough. His eyes watering, he looked back at the prince’s face. It lay there, unmoving and impassive. Guang Hong leaned in, and immediately leaned back. No, no, he couldn’t. The dragon was dead, the way was clear. The wise women could send someone else to vault the last hurdle. Guang Hong had done enough. He stood up.
But could he really leave? Could he go back and say he’d failed at the last? Could he condemn the prince to at least another day of sleeping, more likely several weeks as the wise women selected another champion? Wasn’t that selfish? It was only a kiss, after all.
But it was a kiss.
Guang Hong’s eyes trailed away from the prince’s face as his shoulders slumped. They danced down the lapel of his jacket, lit on the buttons at his wrist, and fell on the prince’s hands. His hands - could that work? Was there a loophole? Guang Hong reached out and picked up one of the prince’s hands. It was limp in his, the fingers slumping back towards the bed. Guang Hong sent an apologetic look at the prince’s face, leaned in, and pressed his lips to the back of the hand in his.
A gasp came from the prince’s mouth, and his eyes flew open. He sat up, wrenching his hand away from Guang Hong in the process, and instinctively wrapped his arms around his knees. “Who are you?”
“My name is Guang Hong,” Guang Hong said, hand still out in the open air. He let it drop to his side. “I was sent to rescue you.”
The prince’s hand, the hand that Guang Hong had kissed, reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. Guang Hong noticed it was shaking. “Did you kiss me?”
“Just your hand,” Guang Hong said. “Not your - just your hand.”
The prince stared at him for a few seconds, and then his head dropped into his chest. “Oh, heavens,” he murmured into his knees. “Heavens, thank you.” He looked back up at Guang Hong. “And thank you, sir knight,” he said. “Guang Hong. I’m Leo.”
Guang Hong dredged up a smile from somewhere for the prince - for Leo. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked. “I have water, and a little food if you’re feeling weak.”
Leo shook his head. “I feel great, actually. Strong. Like I want to get out of this room.”
“We can do that,” Guang Hong said. “It’ll be a bit of a journey down.” He looked at Leo’s feet. “Oh good, you’ve got shoes on.”
“Why do I need shoes?”
Guang Hong took and moved to the window. “We’ll have to climb, there’s no way out of the tower but through the window.” He looked back at Leo. “Are you any good with heights?”
Leo stood up from the bed and walked over too. “I suppose I’ll have to be,” he said, looking down at the vine.
“I’ll go first,” Guang Hong said. “I’ll show you where to put your feet. I climbed the vine up here, so it’s doable, I promise.”
Leo gave him a shaky smile. “I trust you.”
Guang Hong gulped. “Right. Well, here we go.” He stripped off his gloves, handed them to Leo, then hauled himself up onto the sill and thrust his feet out until they hit the vine.
Leo’s hand closed around his wrist. “Don’t fall,” Leo said, his face suddenly anxious.
Guang Hong stared at him. “I won’t.”
“Right,” Leo said, shaking himself slightly. “Right.” He let go of Guang Hong’s wrist.
Guang Hong shimmied down the vine a bit and then called up, “Okay, get up onto the sill and dangle your feet down as much as you can. I’ll direct you to the first step.”
Leo’s upper body appeared in the window, quickly replaced with his lower body as he turned around. He slowly inched himself out over the wall, until his hips hit the edge of the sill and his legs came tumbling down. Guang Hong grabbed hold of the nearest foot and settled it firmly on the vine, and then repeated the process with the other. “Reach one hand down and grab hold,” he said. “What you’re standing on will hold your weight, but don’t let go of the window until you’ve got a firm grip on the vine with your other hand.”
Slowly, inch by inch, they descended, Guang Hong scrambling down a few steps and then guiding Leo’s feet to the next perch. Leo, to do him credit, didn’t shake at all, which made it easier, although he was determinedly looking at the wall of the tower and not out behind him, or down. Finally, Guang Hong’s feet hit solid earth and he jumped off the vine. It was the work of a moment to get Leo close enough to the ground to jump as well; Guang Hong caught him as he landed. “Right,” Leo said again, and then his knees gave out. “Sorry,” he said as Guang Hong was dragged to the ground with him. “Little shaky.”
“It’s okay,” Guang Hong said. “You did well.”
“I think I’ll take some of that water now,” Leo said faintly. Guang Hong passed him his canteen and he drank deep, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand once he was done. “Was it worse going up or down?” he asked as Guang Hong took his turn with the water.
“Oh, going up,” Guang Hong said. On the way down he’d been able to focus on Leo; on the way up, he’d been alone.
Leo looked out and caught sight of the dragon corpse for the first time. “Oh, heavens. You did that?”
“I did,” Guang Hong confirmed. “Did - did you know it?”
Leo shook his head. “I just caught a glimpse when the witch took me.” He stared at the body, his jaw working. “I’m glad it’s dead. I’m glad she’s dead.” He looked at Guang Hong. “She’s dead, right?”
“Very dead,” Guang Hong said. “Like, the turned-into-a-pillar-of-flame-and-then-a-puddle-of-tar type of dead.”
“Good.” Leo stood up. “Then, shall we?”
Guang Hong pushed himself to his feet as well. “We shall. Your coronation awaits.” Leo winced but nodded. Guang Hong led the way out of the clearing and into the forest, and whatever waited for them beyond its borders.