Work Text:
Abe sits down on the same staircase, reading the same old poetry books as always, he cannot help but to think of her even months after they met, months after she decided to stay with them for a period of time while the conflict of The Golden Army died down, gold, golgen, golden eyes, soft hair, warm smile, still, nothing made her justice, no single word can compare to the beauty of his beloved princess, and while he is no poet, he finds himself whispering verses about nobody else but her.
"Eyes bright, radiant, akin to ambers, golden blush across her soft cheeks, a comforting smile on velvet lips, delicate yet showing her scars like badges of honor, like cracks on marble, ethereal, truly, a sight able to leave the beholder breathless," he mumbled, pacing all over the library, how silly, boyish, to talk in such ways when he didn't have the courage to tell her, yet there he was daydreaming of her, coincidentally enough, to his luck or dismay, he wasn't alone.
"I believe I haven't read that one yet," said Nuala, her voice echoing through the room as she entered, her footsteps quiet, wearing that blue dress that looked so perfect on her, "Can I read it with you?" She asked, Abraham wasn't sure what to tell her, he had no words and it took him a couple of seconds to think of something.
There was no use lying to her, was it? "I... I actually just made that up..." he didn't have to tell the whole truth, just avoid the topic for the sake of playing it safe, "I'm no poet, that is for granted, but..."
"It was really beautiful," she said. He swore that smile had made his heart stop once again, "I wonder who inspired such a piece, that person must be beautiful."
She had to be kidding, then she wasn't one to joke that way, "Actually...'' What was he doing? Goodness, he must have lost his mind, against his better judgement, he spoke, "I was thinking of you..." his tone was soft, embarrassed, he looked away, regretting even opening his mouth in the first place.
Nuala's eyes widened in surprise, "Me?" He could feel the genuine surprise on her, he worried that he was invading her privacy, could she feel his nervousness or was it really that obvious? He couldn't help but to call himself a mess over and over again. The princess chuckles, "Abraham, don't joke like that, that can't be me," she told him, as if she had heard the most ridiculous thing in existence.
"It is!" He abruptly stopped himself as soon as the words left his mouth, he bit his tongue just thinking of what would he say next, and so he sighs once he gathered enough confidence to utter a word, "It is you, why would it be someone else?" He could only think of that question as an answer to her.
"I'm not as pretty as who you describe."
Nonsense! Why would she say that? His words didn't even do her justice, what would he tell her? That she is beautiful, wonderful, akin to a goddess, the kindest soul he's ever met, a light among darkness, a lighthouse in a storm? That he wished he could be something else, something worthy of holding her hand? Worthy of being by her side? That she was the most beautiful person he's ever seen?
If he would only allow her to listen to his thoughts for once, if he only had the guts, the nerve, if he could only push himself out of that stupid fear of his—
"Don't deprecate like that," she told him. Were his thoughts so loud? If he could blush he'll be bluer than usual.
"Princess, don't think of yourself as such, if you could see yourself as I do..."
"If you could do that too..."
He doesn't know what happened next other than he felt her soft, warm lips against his cold cheek, seeing her face blush as she smiled and walked away, leaving him clutching the spot she had kissed with his mouth slightly ajar, and perhaps, just perhaps, it felt for a moment that he was actually capable of producing a smile.
"If you only knew..."