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And her shoulders will twitch in surprise, but she will not pull away.
And she will frown when his hand, charcoal and coarse, comes up to hold her chin, still warm, rough. But she will not move. Instead, her eyes, mismatched, will look up at him as he tilts her head upwards. And she will inhale sharply, determined, yes, but only a fool would miss the way her face, pale from time spent enshrouded in shadows, flushes under his scrutiny, under this… strange affection.
And her fingers will flex against the handles of her blades, but she will not hurt him, raise them against him in what she has decided is a moment of weakness. No, just as he has seen, he will have all of her attention.
And he will say her name quietly, like a word that rests on the back of his tongue.
And she will perk up, curious, waiting, not yet wanting.
“Yes, my lord?”
And he will feign disinterest and ignorance as he smooths his burnt thumb over the flesh over her cheek, pretending to miss the way she startles at the sudden movement, pretending not to notice the flicker in her bright gaze.
And then, like he has seen, he will drag that same thumb over her bottom lip and he will watch, amused, perhaps, as her face darkens even further, as her gaze grows frantic before her mouth falls open in a simple, barely audible, ‘oh’.
And he can see how he frustrates her, how her mortal lungs seem to struggle in their attempt to make sure she breathes, in how her eyes stick to his face in an attempt to understand the meaning behind his actions. And, perhaps, in another time, he might have indulged her, would have, no, could have shown her exactly what it is the fates had deigned to show him.
But Prometheus shall break his own premonitions this night.
And so he will step away from her without much thought, as if the last few minutes weren’t spent in bated breath. And he will watch the princess struggle to break free of her mist-addled haze, face flushed, eyes wide, and he will use her undeniable interest turned mortification against her.
And they will fight. And he will win.
And he will never quite be able to forget the otherworldly coolness of her skin against his ruined palm.
FIN