Chapter Text
When Prince Eddie was young, he could have sworn that he had heard the dragons singing. Their flight cloaked from human eyes, they tear the skies with invisible wings, singing for the other half of their hearts, Abuela used to tell him in a lowered voice, in the quiet afternoons when she'd sneak him into the palace kitchen with her. Only then was she not the Queen Mother and Eddie was not the heir apparent. There, she was his story teller, enabling his dreams. She was his guide, teaching him how to cook dishes that tasted like affection... There, she was his shelter in a hug.
Their adventures stopped after that one afternoon when the door creaked open, and Eddie's dad walked in. Except he wasn't anyone's father at that moment. The way King Ramon's jaw was set into a line of clear discontent told Prince Eddie the time for youthful daydreaming was over.
But he could have sworn that he had heard the dragons singing on moonlit nights. That the world's deepest wound opened with that sound, and with it, Eddie knew there was at least one soul out there in the world as lonely and as longing as he was.
The prince would have given anything in the world if, instead of this ball where he's to meet the many candidates to be his betrothed, he could go out into the garden and sit in his favorite private corner, the vine covered gazebo, waiting for the sad and haunting sound to return to him. He catches the king's gaze and straightens his pose. After all, the grand hall is full of young royalties from all of the neighboring kingdoms. Every sword tucked into a golden sheath around this room is a reminder of how fragile the egos of these royal dignitaries are. It would not do to insult them by letting them see their host, the heir to the Throne of Angelesia, slouching in dissatisfaction.
The collar of Prince Eddie's royal jacket feels too tight. He tries to adjust it discreetly, unintentionally looking to the side as he does. The balcony seems to be mocking him through the grand hall's glass doors, offering all the cool night air he could possibly want. Eddie's gaze lingers for a moment when he thinks he catches sight of something. A thin, shiny line, arched downwards against the dark blue of the sky, reminding him a little of drawings he'd seen in an astronomy book... of falling stars. But it couldn't be. Stars don't actually fall, that's what the book stressed. Dragons just breathe fire, they don't sing. And he'll never get to daydream again.
Eddie sighs and turns his attention back to the packed hall, his gloved fingers digging once more into the slight space between his skin and the stiff collar. He can't help himself, he keeps repeating this motion every so often. Until one young man catches Eddie's eye, with hair as golden as sunlight and a birthmark that looks as if he'd been kissed by fire.
Their eyes meet. The man is in a white formal jacket with golden embroidery and buttons, but it's the look in his eyes that lands him a truly regal appearance.
This stranger smiles, the ease of it belying the intensity of his gaze, and walks over with no sign of hesitation whatsoever. He extends his hand in an invitation and asks, "May I have this dance, your highness?"
Everything Eddie knows about court etiquette tells him to refuse. Where was this man's official proclamation as he entered the hall? Eddie wouldn't have missed it. Why is his entourage not by his side? Where's his proper introduction, cementing his right to invite the host to a dance? Is he even one of the royal suitors, or is he from a smaller kingdom, one that's not in the running, and he's simply taking advantage of the ball to get a message across? Eddie can't remember how many times he's seen that happen, presumably friendly dances at courtly balls being used to pass along thinly disguised threats from disgruntled nobles and royals. He couldn't have less patience for that tonight of all nights.
Eddie silently takes the offered hand, wondering what reply the stranger might be seeing in his eyes.
They move together to the grand hall's main floor. When they take their spot on it, the man's right hand comes up to encircle Eddie's back, while bringing their free hands together.
The calm musical notes fill the air between them, and they begin to move. Dancing has never been something Eddie enjoyed doing. It was a duty, taught to him by tutors, in much the same manner military strategies were. Simply another important field for a future monarch to master.
So Eddie had dutifully danced before. At the instruction of his tutors, before his father, with the first royal betrothed King Ramon had chosen for him. "She will bear you a good son," was the verdict after a ball not unlike this one. "She has good, child bearing hips, and her father's wealth will help us restock for war. Then we will win this conflict with the Kingdom of Afagarrah in no time."
Eddie liked Princess Shannon well enough, he might have even loved her with time, but King Ramon's calculations were thrown into disarray when the child she had born showed the first signs of struggling to walk, while the war the king had sent Eddie on took longer to win than expected. In need of respite, the princess was on her way to visit her parents when a carriage accident had claimed her life and forced King Ramon to change plans. Despite the military campaign not yet meeting all of the king's goals, he had to contend with his son insisting on returning to court, to the young prince. Coming back from the battlefield a hero in the eyes of the masses, Prince Eddie had to resign himself to a father who was ever more disappointed in him.
This dance is different. Prince Eddie isn't sure why. The stranger smiles, right before he moves his hand down to the small of Eddie's back, robbing their bodies of what little distance there was between them. Yet the prince finds he doesn't mind. They're gliding together. Side by side, their feet move as if they were meant to be in step with each other.
"The moon is full tonight," the man says, as if that isn't the last thing in the world Eddie would have expected.
"Mmmm," Eddie hums vaguely. Much to his father's dismay, he's not a great conversationalist, undoubtedly another required skill for a royal. It's not his fault. Most court conversations are tedious, as people often struggle to hide what's on their minds as they say instead whatever they hope will win them some royal graces. But this man. It's not what he said, it's the way he said it, with an open and earnest tone. He sounds like he truly was that enchanted with the moon and looking to share his sentiment. It makes the prince want to find out more. "Thankfully. Surely it helped illuminate your way as you traveled to us from..."
The man's smile widens. "I would have come here no matter how dark the way."
His hand slides and tightens further around the prince's waist, giving it a subtle squeeze, so understated Eddie almost isn't sure it happened. Almost.
There is an air that is both too familiar and hypnotizing about the man's demeanor. His smile radiates with some sweet secret only the two of them know, that only they can speak of in between the lines without the outside world infringing on it, and there is something warm and brimming with trust about that.
Except Eddie doesn't actually know what this secret is. As a prince, he isn't supposed to be caught off guard like this.
"Your entourage," he blurts out. "I trust the accommodations they've been provided with are to everyone's satisfaction?"
This time when the man's lips move, it's to laugh. "I'd inquire what is the real question you're trying to ask, your highness," he says without a hint of upset, "but I'd rather admit, I'm simply glad you'd like to know me better."
Eddie freezes in place. The stranger almost steps on his toes, as it makes for a rather abrupt and clumsy interruption to their dance. "I'm..." he starts, but doesn't know how to end that. Then he recognized the tell tale signs of the attention he inadvertently drew to them. He looks up at the top of the main staircase, where his father would be. Sure enough, King Ramon is looking down at his son, his face set in stone. "I must see to my father," the words spill out on their own.
The stranger raises his eyebrows. "Of course," he agrees. "You must." Their conversation seems to be done, but just as Eddie begins to turn, the man takes a deep breath. "I'll see you again later," he says hastily, "when you're ready."
Is it a promise or a wish? Prince Eddie isn't sure. He nods as one would to a madman, his feet already taking him up the stairs, to his father.
"Who is that young man?" King Ramon demands immediately. "No servants have proclaimed him." The criticism is right there. How dare the prince accept a dance with an unknown?
"Is he not one of our guests, Father?" Eddie may not want a confrontation, but he's not ready to be shamed with resistance, either. "It would not do to disgrace him by turning down his invitation to dance."
The king bites down on the side of his mouth, a gesture Eddie knows to mean anger. But a good monarch controls their temper in public. "Speaking of dutiful dance cards," he finally lets out, "it is time for you to meet a few princes and princesses."
And dutiful Eddie is, as he clasps many hands, one after the other, each dance blending into the next, the conversations expected and dull, the candidates failing to capture his attention. Not because he's thinking about the stranger. If his eyes scan the grand hall from time to time, there are no white royal jackets in the crowd in any case.
~ ~ ~
The dances only feel as if they last forever. Mercifully, the crowd is given a respite in the form of a virtuoso pianist concerto. Prince Eddie should stay for all of it. Alas, his sense of dutifulness is spent, and he slips out to replenish it in his gazebo.
Hands in his pockets, he looks at his dark shoes against the trail of pebbles. In the moonlight, they're nearly shining, and the visual contrast is mostly enough to occupy his drained mind.
What an evening. Whomever he's to marry next, the prince hopes it lasts forever, if only so he never has to go through this a third time.
He's almost at the gazebo when he looks up and stops in his tracks. Much like the pebbles, the white jacket is glowing with reflected moonlight.
"You're..." Eddie doesn't stop himself in time.
The man turns to him with a beaming smile. "Waiting for you, yes. Just as I promised." He bows his head a little, before pointing one gloved finger up at the moon. "Who can resist it when it's full and the garden is blossoming?"
The prince takes a step closer, turning his head sideways appraisingly without breaking eye contact. "You knew it was? Have you visited it during the day?"
The stranger shrugs. "I love all gardens. And the smell of these roses in particular," he gently caresses the petal leaves of one and turns it towards him while leaning to take in its scent, "was quite alluring. I like the color, as well. Yellow for joy?"
"Precisely. They were my grandmother's favorites," Eddie replies.
He remembers the low hum of his abuela as she sniffed the soup they were cooking together, estimating whether it was prepared before taking a small confirmation sip. "Don't forget, Edmundo," she would say.
"She planted them here as a reminder for me... to be happy."
The man straightens and turns back to the prince. Their gazes meet. "She sounds like a very wise lady."
"She was." Eddie can't say more than that.
"Oh." The man responds softly. "I'm sorry."
Suddenly, gravity is too forceful. "Don't be," Eddie says, moving to sit down on the white wooden bench, whose back is topped by ivy. "She didn't suffer. I've seen enough to know it can be worse."
The stranger comes to stand by him. "I'm glad for that. Still sad for you, though."
Eddie looks up, gesturing at the spot next to him before he can think better of it. "She would have hated this engagement ball. She was dead set against the first one, too. The only thing that made her less vocal about it is that Christopher was born thanks to it."
"Christopher?"
He hesitates, but only for half a second, before his hand slips into the gap between his jacket's buttons, pulling out a gold watch from the pocket of his vest. "My son." He pushes the button at the top and the watch click opens, revealing a painted portrait of the young prince opposite the clock face.
The man draws it closer and examines the miniature painting in the light of the full moon. "He's incredibly adorable," he says with a genuine smile. "I love children," he adds, "though I would not have guessed you had one."
"Then you're most definitely not one of my potential suitors." It's Eddie's turn to grin at the questioning look the man's face takes on. "My father had a copy of the portrait sent together with the invites to those of consideration." He grimaced next. King Ramon made sure to include his grandson's wheeled chair in the portrait. The candidates all took the opportunity of the dance tonight to comment on what a lovely boy Prince Christopher seemed, but their eyes only shone when speaking of other subjects.
"Indeed, I'm not." The man pauses, appearing less sure of himself than he had been all evening. "He's quite lucky to have you for a father."
Prince Eddie feels like he had just been bitten by a snake. "Why..."
"Because," the stranger doesn't wait for him to complete his question, pointing to the watch, "your father had to send out this portrait to every potential betrothed. It would have made for a scandal if they had only found out about the prince's condition upon arrival. But you... you chose to have it honestly made. He's in the care of the best man he could ask for."
Bitten, and the words are swimming in Eddie's veins, terminal.
"I don't know," he has to unload the air between them. "I'm a terrible instructor during our gardening sessions."
"You teach him?"
"I try. Two black thumbs, but he insists." Those are the moments when Eddie isn't the heir apparent, and his son is not the next in line. He points to a small pot of pink roses. "Those are his."
"Oh. Do roses of this color not stand for appreciation and gratitude?"
"They do. Who taught you that?"
"My older sister. I bet she would have gotten along famously with your grandmother." The corners of the stranger's eyes crinkle with affection.
Eddie leans back, observing the man in front of him. "I..." He stops. He was looking for a socially acceptable way to ask for... He's not sure what. Inquiring after the name of the sister when speaking of her would seem natural, but not when her brother's name is still a mystery. But how should Eddie ask for that? Is it not a too familiar question in circles where official proclamations meant the prince had never had to ask for someone's given name before? Then again, what else can Eddie ask for, the man's title? The attempt to inquire after his kingdom had already failed... And it all feels out of place given the nature and setting of this conversation.
"I believe I must call it a night now, your highness. Tomorrow is the feast for all of your guests, is it not? If the young prince should happen to be here for an evening stroll in the garden, I would be honored if you allowed me to help push his chair..."
Eddie's eyebrow shoots up. "How did you know? We have told none of our guests on which day the feast would be."
The stranger smiles and shrugs dismissively. "I hear things," he says.
And with that he steps backwards into the shade, without turning, and even though Prince Eddie is quick to follow and step into the darkened garden, he finds no sign of the man.