Work Text:
Prince Aziraphale spots a seat in the corner, half-hidden by a tapestry that bellies out from the wall, and hastily slides into it. It’s a better party than usual, with a number of genuinely clever people among those who mistake snideness for wit, and in particular a very entertaining and open-minded couple with whom Aziraphale’s already arranged an assignation for later. But the seeming effortlessness with which he moves among his peers comes at a cost, and he needs a moment — just a moment to gather himself, safely unseen.
“You clumsy fool, you’ve stepped on my foot!” a voice says much closer than Aziraphale would like.
“Apologies, my lady,” a much softer voice says. Aziraphale peeks out around the tapestry to see an older servant woman clasping her hands in supplication to a noblewoman who Aziraphale recognizes as the daughter of Lord Beelzebub, one of his vassals — a young lady known rather uncharitably as “the horsefly” for her slight stature and vicious temper. “I was put off balance by someone passing by. It shan’t happen again.”
“How dare you presume to excuse yourself to me? I shall have you whipped!”
The prince sighs and puts his hands on his thighs, knowing he needs to get up to put a stop to this, but feeling reluctant both to leave his seclusion and to incur the young countess’s wrath. He’ll do it, just —
“It was an accident,” a third voice says, deep and harsh. Aziraphale peeks again and finds himself in an excellent position to regard the speaker from behind: tall and angular in delightfully tight hose, red hair cascading in unfashionable loose curls down their back. “Cut her some slack, it’s wall-to-wall in here.”
“Mind your own business, snake,” the horsefly snaps. “I should have thought my parent would have taught you better after last year.” If Aziraphale hadn’t been certain from the hair, that would have told him the stranger’s identity: Prince Anthony of Abaddon, a small but wealthy distant kingdom that had clashed with the Duchy of Gehenna over one of those trivial trade matters that rapidly become an excuse for everyone to work out unrelated aggressions.
“He never taught you manners, I don’t sssee why you think he’d have b-better luck with me.” Despite the stammer, it’s not nervousness that Aziraphale hears in Prince Anthony’s voice but frustration. It’s time for him to intervene; he can see the horsefly preparing to bite back. Her face alters almost comically when she sees him emerge, from contemptuous to fawning, and Aziraphale only just manages not to laugh at the predictability of bullies.
“Good evening, my dear,” Aziraphale says, not to the countess but to the servant. “Please, go about your business; I think our host will be disinclined to punish a valued servant on the whim of a — guest.” He weights the pause with a look at the countess that contains all the epithets he could have chosen instead, and she fumbles out an apology before fleeing.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Prince Anthony says after an awkward moment’s silence.
Aziraphale blinks. Perhaps he shouldn’t have expected gratitude, but — “I thought it best to prevent any real consequences.”
“No, no, I mean — w-was good, I’m not… I don’t have…” The prince shakes his head, his words almost visibly tangling in his mouth. His narrow, handsome face is heartbreakingly guarded, as if he expects Aziraphale to attack him now that he has him alone; Aziraphale suddenly wants to know what he might look like if he smiled. “You’re in a better position,” he manages at last. “It’s just, now she’s just going to go talk filth about you to everyone she knows.”
Aziraphale laughs. “Darling, everyone knows all the filth there is to know about me already. I rather doubt she’ll find much interest.”
The prince flushes rather sweetly — ah, he is aware of Aziraphale’s reputation, how nice. “Jussst… don’t want you getting in trouble either,” he says, and Aziraphale can’t help but be touched, though he hardly needs the protection. What a curious sort of person, willing to throw himself in the way of consequences he doesn’t seem quite able to handle. Aziraphale decides, then and there, that he will make Prince Anthony smile before the night is through.