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“I’m not fucking kissing them.”
“He’s not fucking kiss me.”
“ Your highnesses ,” Mitsuya hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he bites back the urge to literally rip off the people in front of him’s heads. “There’s no time for your petty grudges. We are under a time crunch.”
“The only crunch there will be is Draken’s nose if he gets another step closer to me,” you bite off, pressing the heel of your palm to your temple. You sway a little on your feet and you’re lucky there’s a desk behind you that you can halfway sit on to stable yourself.
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing,” the prince smiles—sarcastic and condescending—as he leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
When you went out on your designated and mandatory weekly outing with your—begrudging on both ends, mind you—betrothed, you’d expected a silent few hours spent under chaperoned care as the two of you sat in the garden and tried to ignore the other’s presence. That’s what you and Draken normally did, anyways. Spent time together without indulging the other at all. The two of you butt heads like toddlers fighting over the same swing when there was an empty one right next to it; pointless but unwavering. Your families hadn’t a clue, and they wouldn’t, not with the lovesick act you both put on around them to appease their old hearts. You’d expected this afternoon’s “date” to go like any other.
But apparently when you fight fate long enough it has its way of biting you in the ass, and today’s the day fate decided to take a bite.
It comes in the form of a muffin. Normally one of the maidens or a servant will bring baskets out for you and Draken throughout your rendezvous, and today was no different. A sweet young boy whom you’d recognized from working around the kitchen had brought the food out to you and bid you both with a bow before scampering right along. You hadn’t eaten all day and the muffin was practically calling your name from where it sat perfectly atop all the others.
One morsel was all it took for you to know something wasn’t right, and you’d hoped maybe your taste buds had just been acting up, but no.
Fate took a big bite.
So, that’s how you not only ended up poisoned in the middle of your betrothed’s garden, but it’s also how you ended up here. Locked in a secret room in Draken’s castle with him and his personal guard Mitsuya for the unforeseen future while knights and whoever the hell else try to search for the person responsible.
You cough into your hand and grip onto the desk.
“Your highness,” Mitsuya addresses, a hint more formality to his tone now as he takes a step towards you, “I’m afraid you’re getting worse, and you know that if you would just—“
“No, we don’t know that,” you interject. Another cough wracks through you. Your mouth feels impossibly dry. “Kissing him only works if it’s that.. ‘ True love ’ shit and, correct me if i’m mistaken, but that seems like a far cry, no? Now, what we do know is that.. This is taking longer. Because I did not eat a-all of.. All..”
“Your grace?” Mitsuya ushers, hand reaching for your shoulder as your lids start to droop and your body follows suit. “Your grace, look at me. Focus, please.”
“Sorry I—I..“
And the guard is starting to fade out in front of you, double and triple and then come back together in a way that’s making you dizzy. Your already hazy and clogged brain is turning into mush tenfold. As you go to continue, open your mouth again to try to finish your explanation, you feel your body give out entirely.
“Fuck,” he mutters, hardly able to catch you before you crumple to floor altogether. “Sir, help me carry them to the couch.”
It’s almost funny, how even poisoned to near death you still try to swat Draken away as he comes to your aid.
“Don’t.. D-don’t fuckin’ need the help from y-you,” you grumble, words slurred and unarticulated in a way you know your mother would scold you for.
Draken scoffs. “Trust me, I don't want to be doing this any more than you want me to,” he retorts, throwing your arm over his shoulder and effectively helping Mitsuya lug you over to the couch.
Mitsuya, the angel, tries to be somewhat gentle in laying you down atop the cushions.
Draken drops you the first chance he gets.
“I’m uncertain on what to do,” Mitsuya says as he stands next to the prince, fingers fiddling with themselves like he’s ready to strike at any given moment given a command. “Nobody is to come in or out of this room until the assailant is captured but if they don’t find them soon it won’t matter.”
He turns to Draken then, a determination in his eyes that the blond is regrettably familiar with, and Draken is tempted to find that muffin and take a chunk out of it himself.
“No.”
“Sir.”
“ No .”
“Sir, please.”
“I refuse—“
“They’re dying!” Mitsuya shouts. And he knows he’s stepping out of line, even if he’s known the prince for years. Draken could have his head for this in a split second if he wanted to. But he can’t just sit by and watch this happen. “Your highness, they are dying . I know you cannot stand each other. I know the two of you have some sort of quarrel. But you should at least try. You may be comfortable leaving this room with one less person but I most certainly am not. So your majesty, please .”
Draken considers, for a very brief moment, if he should stab himself with the dagger on Mitsuya’s hip—then he decides against it, because if you were to live he can only imagine the words you’d say without him there to snap back. And that’s simply unimaginable.
He turns his gaze to you.
You, who is normally so full of spunk and spirit and moxie. You, who is always ready and waiting with a comeback on the tip of your tongue, the perfect rebuttable to whatever it is he has to say and the perfect chide to match when he counters back. You, who is always shouting with him and at him and to him with your voice booming and unwavering and rocking him all the way into his chest.
You, who is now emptied of all that.
“Okay,” he mutters, low and uneasy, as he takes an immediate step back towards the couch.
Okay, he thinks, because this isn’t the you he knows. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so silent for so long, doesn’t think he’s ever been forced to picture you lying so still. There’s an endless shiver that’s rattling through you despite the coat tugged around your shoulders. Your eyes aren’t keen and coy, but instead dazed out and spaced. No, this isn’t the you he knows at all. This feels like the shell that’s left of it.
You don’t even try to fight him as he raises your head up enough to slip onto the couch, laying it back into his lap. His chest hurts.
“Y-you’re.. You’re going t-to..”
“Yes,” he cuts you off, because he can tell it’s hard, to push the words out at this point. He brushes a piece of hair out of your face, slightly damp with sweat as it clings to your feverish forehead. “I’m going to.”
You hum, another cough ripping out of you and your entire body jerks with it. God, it must hurt.
Draken is hit with something then, something chilling and warming at the same time that runs up his spine and wraps around his throat. He presses his fingers to your cheek to make you actually look up at him, and he swears he can literally see it—the way that roaring flame in your eyes dies down to nothing more than a glowing ember as the poison does it’s best to soak up every last drop of you.
He’s going to kiss you.
And he knows.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, as a tear slips out of your eye. You’re practically gasping for air at this point as he pulls you closer to him, cradles the back of your head as he draws you nearer. He brushes the tear away with his thumb. “You better not kill me if this works.”
Your breath puffs against his lips and if Draken didn’t know any better, he’d think it was your weak attempt at a laugh. But he doesn’t have time to think too much about that as he leans that little bit forward.
And he kisses you, in a totally non-begrudging way.
It’s a little weird, the feeling that rushes over him as soon as your lips connect. For a second he thinks it might be the poison, somehow spreading to him through you, making his fingers tingle and his cheeks flush and his heart rate skyrocket in his chest. But that theory is blown out of the water as you suck in a gasp while still locked with him.
Yeah, he knows that the strong emotion he’s been festering over for years is not hatred.
You pull back, hand placed to Draken’s chest as he holds you there, keeps you close, even though he should be shoving you off of him at the first open opportunity. But he doesn’t, and you don’t make a move either. A beat passes, then two, you find yourself getting lost in dark irises and cherry lips and before you know what’s happening his mouth is back on yours as you loop your arms around his neck.
Faintly, the two of you can hear Mitsuya’s grossed out complaint and grumbles but both of you ignore it, suddenly finding each other far more important than anything else. You try to convince yourself—a last resort grab for straws—that you’re just making sure the whole curse is gone, but you get about a millisecond into that thought and mentally tell yourself to shut the fuck up.
When the two of you part now, you’re having trouble breathing for a reason different than poison altogether. And you’re greeted with a smile, the first genuine one that’s ever been thrown your way from the prince in the entirety that you’ve known him.
“You know, for someone who was so appalled by the idea of kissing ten minutes ago, you don’t seem so disgusted now,” you snark, a cheeky grin working its way to your lips as you feel the energy start to surge through your body again.
“I could say the same to you,” Draken huffs a laugh.
“Thought you wanted me dead.” It’s light, teasing as you poke his ribs and bite down on the edge of your lip. “And look at you, Prince Draken . Saving me from my doom.”
“Well, yes. I want to kill you myself, couldn’t let the poison steal my thunder.”
You smack his chest. He blows out a chuckle and grabs your hands to hold them to him, like he’s scared to let you go for even a second. And you think he might be, because it must’ve been scary, seeing you like that. Sure, you were the one dying, but having to witness it seems nearly equally as traumatic. You start to lean in again, Draken already trying to meet you halfway, but a throat clearing stops you both.
“Before this escalates any further and I am forever scarred for life,” Mitsuya calls from across the room. You and Draken both look over at him, greeted by a shit eating grin and a look so prideful it doesn’t really fit his face. “ I told you so .”
You aren’t sure whether you want to thank the guard or yell at him, but before you can even decide Draken is shoving you away and striding towards him to get into a scuffle you’re far too familiar with between the two. From your seat on the couch you watch Draken tussle with pink cheeks and a furrowed brow, and you wonder how you could’ve ever hated a face like that.
And how the hell you were so opposed to kissing it.