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In the spacious fields of the Caidvien Valleys, past the wildflowers blooming vibrantly and the swooping hills of luscious green, sat a relatively undisturbed wisteria grove surrounded by a crystalline river. Balan dipped his fingers into the babbling waters, surprised to find that little, winged creatures swam up to greet him, gently brushing against the fabric of his gloves with glee. Some appeared to be fish, yet others rose out of the water delicately to reveal a physique befitting that of a water sprite. A rather small, fairy-like variety Balan surmised, watching as they happily fussed around with Balan’s hair, some sitting upon the bridge of his hat with curiosity. One landed on the finger Balan had outstretched, his eyes glowing with fondness as the sprite spread its body out to lay, wings folded behind it. His smile grew at the sight.
And hearing the light laughter from behind, his head turned to see Nights dealing with their own fair folk, ones tied closer with the wood, and more interested in decorating their exposed tresses with the surrounding wisteria and clematis. The sight of their eyes aglow in wonder, lips broadened into a perfect smile, made his heart melt. Throughout their adventure, he’d never once seen them so relaxed and unaware, naive and joyous. Yet, in this garden of beauty sheltered from the rest of the horrors that lay just outside, they were finally able to put their on guard persona to rest. Even their hat lay to the side, finally revealing the lush, perky golden curls that would make even Rumplestiltskin jealous. Even the horns, curled similarly to that of a ram, were immaculately gorgeous in every way possible, with how they shifted from an onyx to a darkened violet.
A tugging sensation brought his attention back to the sprite who seemed rather ill content with the lack of attention. Balan offered a sorry smile. “I do apologize, but have you ever seen anything so…,” Seeing how jovial his friend was, a rosy blush at their stardust freckled cheeks as they engaged with the floral sprites, it was enough to make Balan himself tint bubblegum in the face. He couldn’t deny it any longer. The rush and swelling of these thoughts and tender emotions swaddled his heart and mind, enraptured by lapis pools shimmering with delight and an ebullient attitude. This divine entity, originally created from a desolate darkness to be a beguiling trickster, and yet Balan could only see them as the scintillating core of his irrepressible affinity. “Something so… perfect…”
Without waiting for the sprite he had slightly engaged with, he took the matters of his heart into his own hands, not being one to beat around the bush or wait for the striking moment. Hands behind his back, wringing as sweat wetted the fabric lacing them, he gently cleared his throat. “So… where are we, exactly, my dear?”
The floral sprites surrounding Nights all equally squeaked at the sudden interruption, hiding within the flowers they’d weft into his friend’s hair. “You all need not hide from Balan,” Nights reached their hand up to pull one of the sprites out from the clematis blossom. “He’s as harmless as Euridigm’s topians.”
“Euridigm?”
Nights regarded Balan with a nod, and a gentle grin. “They’re the yang to Wizeman’s ying. A celestial entity with no particular starting point, and definitely no end,” Their arms outstretched to the willows that surrounded the grove. “They created this, all of it from the rolling hills and tall mountains to the bounties of flora and fauna. They even created the fair folk who occupy it all.”
Balan took a seat next to the jester within the plume of carnations, surprised to find the ground as soft and plush as a pillow. He almost felt bad that he had to sit upon the garden, wishing there was a way where he didn’t need to damage the flowers. “They must be quite the being then.”
“Yes, they truly are,” Nights mused heartily, plucking one of the willow vines from their hair, handing it off to one of the floral sprites that had been brave enough to come out. “To think that they created these little friends, and so many others… If I could, I would like to protect them all, and act in Euridigm's favor.”
The maestro couldn’t help but regard such a humble statement with a reassuring nod, eyes half lidded with pure admiration. Nights, from the moment they had stumbled upon each other to the adventure they now shared, had always been such a beautiful person in Balan’s eyes. Not just on the outside, but equally on the inside. Their heart was filled with purest intentions guided by a fervent, courageous flame that burned on as brightly as the ruby embedded in their chest. And deep down Balan knew that, from the second he’d seen Nights on the theater rooftop over a year ago, he’d been smitten ever since. The drumbeat of his heart sped up, leaning in slightly. “Your selfless acts never go unnoticed, dearest Nightingale.”
“Oh, Balan, please,” The jester huffed playfully, slugging his shoulder. “You know how that nickname makes me feel.”
Oh goodness. The area where Nights’ hand had grazed warmed up significantly, a tingling sensation rolling down the length of his back. Though nerves still riled up inside him, Balan remembered why he’d approached, and considering how easily Nights had made it for him to continue, his smirk widened slightly. “Oh, you know how I simply cannot help it,” He teased delicately, a hand hovering over where his heart pounded furiously. “A nightingale is as charming and delicate as you are, so why not refer to you with a nickname befitting your very image?”
Balan sloped towards them, his nose faintly picking up the neverending sweetness of vanilla lavender that seemed to waft off of them endlessly. “After all,” Swallowing what doubts he had, he stretched his arm out to grasp a clematis blossom, prying it away from a golden curl it had been weft into and presenting it to their face. “A bewitchingly divine being, such as yourself, deserves to be referred to with the utmost praise.”
And for the seconds that ticked by after the statement left his lips, Balan felt as if everything inside him was going miles a minute. Desperately, he searched Nights’ surprise contorted face for anything that would affirm he hadn’t caused his own downfall. To the gods, whichever ones who’d listen, he pleaded forgiveness upon himself. How could he allow his mouth and heart to be so careless, especially when his own personal feelings probably didn’t match up with his friend’s. Even more alarming was the thick silence that sat between the two of them, Balan practically ready to back off and laugh it off as some light teasing, never to return to this conversation.
A turn of events, however, when a light pressure gripped at his own hand, plucking the flower out of his grasp. Nights held it to their face, mouth obstructed by the blossoms, but their as expressive as ever eyes held such fondness, yet an equal mirth within the slim slit pupil. “Poetic as ever, Balan,” Their eyes narrowed, and Balan could see the dimples of their cheeks rise from behind the petals. “But, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were flirting with me.”
Burgundy. Balan could swear not only his face, but entire body, had flushed a brilliant shade of burgundy. “I-I, um, well, when you put it like that, it sounds rather undignified, don’t you think?”
“Yes, quite undignified indeed,” Nights tittered, the flower removed from their face to where Balan could now see the equally rubescent cheeks they boasted, freckles now standing out even more against the rosiness. “What you, good sir, are playing as a dangerous game.”
Seeing how their eyelashes fluttered, coupled with just how playfully sulturous their gaze had become, Balan physically had to fight to swallow the lump in his throat. Dangerous, indeed. He had to remember it for next time, but Nights had always been known to be a double edged sword. Particularly kind and charming one moment. Teasingly playful and brutally honest the next. That thrill rush, however, of a dangerous time enticed Balan further into his infatuation.
“Oh, no doubt,” Balan began, lightly fingering the collar of his ascot, eyes attempting to avoid Nights’ at all costs. “... But, if I said I enjoyed such a game?”
Each of the sprites around the situation equally made an excited sounding chirp as Nights leaned, using their free hand to flip off Balan’s hat, the article falling to the ground behind Balan. His hair, now free to flow with the mellow winds, tousling the minty locks slightly. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Nights murmured, grabbing Balan’s face in their hands. “As much as I’d like to believe this could work, danger follows me at every turn, I’m a wanted convict. Do you even know what this could all spell for you?”
Yes, Balan thought. He did know. There was a high possibility Nights’ brother, who had quite the personal vendetta against him, could strike him down at any moment, pummeling his face into the dirt and breaking every bone in his body if he so desired. Not to mention, the heinous monstrosity of a deity that claimed to be Nights’ father, who had threatened Balan on multiple occasions by sending out legions of armed nightmaren who seemed none more than ready to sink their claws and fangs into fresh Wonderworld meat. And while none of that sounded appealing, he was sunken too far into the ocean of his feelings, practically drowning underneath the weight of them.
It would be easier to let them all out. Easier to let his head rest within the smooth feel of Nights’ gloves, and so much simpler just to smile like a lovesick idiot. “Of course I do, Nights,” Balan sighed, grasping one of the hands in his own, smoothing his fingers over the back. “I’ve known all this time, and yet, I can assuredly say that I’ve fallen so deeply for you that I cannot swim back to the surface.”
“Oh, god, you’re so…” Nights grinned an effervescent smile, immediately pulling Balan into a secure hug, crushing him against them that they were practically flush. The tips of their hair tickled Balan’s cheek, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did, except for the wondrous explosion of heart inside Balan’s body as his hands curled around the small of Nights’ back, bringing them in even closer. Oh, how this moment needed to last forever for the maestro to believe it had become reality. “You’re so… warm, I wished to hug you like this a long time ago.”
“You always could’ve, dearest Nightingale,” Balan soothed, tapping his fingers in a rhythm. “I would’ve let you, no questions asked.”
Nights removed their head from Balan’s shoulder, eyes holding such doting, warm regard that Balan’s heart almost couldn’t handle it. “You know…” They began, running a finger across Balan’s lower lip. “There’s something else I’ve always wanted to do as well, and judging by how you’re not exactly… backing away.”
“Well then, go on then. I’m not stopping you. Just know that, regardless of what is thrown at us from here on out, I love you unconditionally and will continue to love you.”
Both of them didn’t know who moved in first, but soon enough, they fell into the flower bed beneath them, engaged in a passionately motivated liplock.