Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s all Opeli’s fault, really.

Corvus had been, as per usual , minding his business, when Opeli had asked him if he knew how to dance. 

And, what’s worse, is that she only asked because she wanted him to teach her .

He knows exactly why she’s asking - Katolis Castle and the surrounding city has been rebuilt and to celebrate there was to be a celebratory festival next month. Unfortunately for Corvus, it includes a ball.

Now, facing Opeli’s hopeful face, he curses whatever gave the cleric the impression that he could dance.

“So?” She briefly tempers off her eagerness for fear of overwhelming him, and smiles kindly at him “I know you have a lot of responsibilities and finding time would be difficult but I promise, I’m prepared to put the work in.”

Corvus doesn’t think he’s ever felt so awful in his life. Opeli’s blue eyes shine up at him and he really feels like a fish out of water. He cannot believe he’s going to disappoint her like this.

“No…?” Corvus manages to make out and immediately curses himself to oblivion when a crestfallen expression flickers across her face briefly but in an instant, she covers it up.

But Corvus notices it. He always does.

“No?” Opeli echoes, “No as in you won’t teach me, or no you don’t have lots to do or no as in something else?”

Nope scratch that, he now thinks he’s never felt so awful in his life.

He's never seen Opeli so excited for something. For something that she wants.

Opeli is still looking at him with that foreign hopefulness and he realises he’s expected to say something back, not just stare back at her like a fool.

“Something else.” He says awkwardly. Corvus shifts on his feet as Opeli, quite frankly, stares into his soul.

What is it about blue-eyed people and their unnerving ability to stare at you like you were made of glass , Corvus thinks briefly. It’s a look he’s been on the receiving end of many times but it still absolutely floors him every time.

The Crownguard suddenly has a feeling that he needs to take the heat off himself and twist this conversation back to Opeli. He gets the sense that household staff are expected to know how to dance and it really wouldn’t do him any good to be known as the only one who couldn’t.

Saying that…

“Why are you asking? Shouldn’t you be able to dance as a member of the High Court?” Corvus doesn’t quite mean for his question to sound so accusing but hey, at least he’s out of the line of fire.

Opeli’s cheeks flush a little red and she doesn’t quite meet his eye. 

Oh no .

Well, apparently Corvus was beating all his records today. This might be the most awful he’s ever felt.

“I wasn’t always a member of the High Court.” Opeli admits and then she frowns slightly.

Corvus feels his face soften instantly at this; he understands this feeling. Both himself and Opeli, out of most of the staff, out of all their friends (minus Rayla, sorry Rayla) didn’t come from the same background of nobility or of being raised in the castle. 

The cleric sighs, waving her hand around dismissively as she speaks, “I was meant to learn but you know, I found excuses, or said it was part of my vows.”

At this admission, Corvus simply blinks a couple times.

“Your vows.” He repeats incredulously. Who on this green earth would ever believe that a cleric couldn’t dance because of a vow ?

Something of this must show on his face because Opeli chuckles warmly as she smiles at her friend, “You'll be amazed what people believe.” 

Her voice is a touch wry and laced with amusement. There’s something else there, something mischievous , something that the past two decades has replaced with exhaustion. 

After this and a few more words exchanged between friends, Corvus waves at her as he follows through the halls. He thinks of the Opeli he never met, a part of herself that Opeli hasn’t told him about and Corvus decides he’d like to know more of that part. Better yet, see it himself.

Opeli walks away from this conversation with her heart warm in her chest. Until she is struck with the realisation halfway down the corridor that she never actually found out if Corvus would help her. 

This is why, she remembers, Wisdom is not her patron virtue.

So when she turns around to call after Corvus, he’s gone, almost entirely across the castle and internally cheering for managing to fool the High Cleric for Katolis and get away with it.

Unfortunately for him, it’s not for long. 

The council (now including Rayla, hi Rayla) are gathered in the newly rebuilt throne room to discuss said festival. Soren is notably absent, but in the Head Crownguard’s defence, he had training with new recruits this morning - so really, he’s just late.

Corvus hasn’t really offered much he’s aware but neither has Rayla. Though at least Rayla is asking questions, trying very hard to learn the Katolian culture, bless her heart. Corvus is just counting bricks, comparing which ones are new and which have been reused from the old castle. 

It’s more entertaining than it sounds, he desperately tries to tell himself.

But Corvus snaps to attention when the doors open and an old man - one of the castle staff, Corvus recalls - sticks his head cautiously into the room. 

“Saïd !” Within three steps, King Ezran has crossed the room towards the man, and guides him towards the gathered group who watch him curiously, “How can I help you?” 

Aged eyes glance around the room before turning back to his King, “I’m here to talk about the upcoming festival, specifically about the dances.”

A beaming smile breaks out across Ezran’s face and the sight of it will forever make Corvus’ heart feel light. “Yes of course!” 

Saïd pats Ezran on the arm that is supporting his own and Rayla offers the man a nearby seat which he refuses politely.

“I have to say, personally I’m pretty excited for it myself” Ezran winks at Saïd and Corvus again admires just how at ease Ezran is with his people - sure, he could be awkward one-on-one but as king, he flourished caring for his people.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, we still have a month to polish it off and make sure everyone knows it.” 

Then, he smiles at Saïd directly, something teasing in his tone, “It’s not a difficult dance, as you know.” 

Corvus thinks there must be a story there at the way Opeli groans and Saïd smiles conspiratorily at Ezran. But the man pauses briefly before speaking.

“King Ezran, I- I don’t want to be rude, but Princess Rayla-” The young woman in question glares at him and he corrects himself hurriedly, “Lady Rayla will have to learn the dance as well.”

In an instant, Rayla loses her glaring expression to one of utter surprise and confusion 

“What?”

She doesn’t seem put off by this, rather caught off guard and Callum’s largely unsurprised reaction clearly seems to calm her. Despite this, the mage gives her hand a squeeze regardless and she returns the gesture with a grateful smile.

Ezran watches her reaction and thinks for a moment before smiling at the two, “No I think that would be lovely- of course if Rayla wants to do it.”

Everyone turns to Rayla and she stammers with so many people looking at her expectantly, “I mean, I- I don’t mind…” Her voice is weak and Saïd raises one nonjudgemental eye at her and she sighs deeply before speaking normally.

“Someone will have to teach me though. I won’t struggle with the physical aspects of dance, just the dance itself probably.”

Saïd nods approvingly and turns to the young king who smiles at her. “Any requests, Rayla?” 

Rayla rubs at the back of her head as she admits, “I’d rather do it with someone I know though.”

What’s strange is that she doesn’t turn to Callum, Callum doesn’t turn to her and no one looks expectantly at the young prince.

Weirdly, however, everyone turns to Corvus, who simply stares blankly back at them.

“Corvus, please please teach me” Rayla begs and Corvus stares at her.

Huh?

They’re all still staring expectantly at Corvus, who, in his bafflement, can only blink and point to himself. Rayla nods enthusiastically with that damned hope in her eyes. All Corvus can do is squash it with a few eloquent words.

“I- uh… I can’t dance.”

“Eh?”

“What?”

“Huh?” 

This is ridiculous , he thinks, why do they all seem to think he can dance? Exasperated, he swallows his pride as he reminds himself to simply say it and get it over with.

How very wrong he would be.

“I can’t dance.” The tracker says simply and hushes the voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like his mum and reminds him that it’s only on a technicality.

“What, how?”

“That’s surprising.” Barius hums thoughtfully and Corvus can feel his lips twist into a frown. What’s surprising is that everyone assumes he can .

“Why?” Corvus doesn’t even know how to respond to this.

“You can’t dance at all?” Callum asks, disbelieving.

“Not this … dance, specifically” Gesturing towards Saïd who glances between the two young men, an unreadable look in his eye. 

“Oh, so what about a gavotte?” Ezran asks, tilting his head.

“No…” It has to be said that he knows the name of the dance, having played the music. He’d hazard a guess he’d have performed most of these.

“Foxtrot?”

Corvus shakes his head.

“Swing?” Saïd chimes in .

“Not very well, sorry.”

“Bourrée?” Callum offers after frowning in an attempt to recall a dance he had learnt and Corvus shakes his head

Even Erin, a fellow Crownguard who is on shift by the door, suggests, “Step-dance?”

This is done with a faux innocence and he glares at her to which she sticks her tongue out at him, a gesture that no one else seems to notice.

“Pavane?” Any kind of tango?” “Minuet?”

No, no, nope . Corvus tells them as such and he can see Saïd’s eyebrows rise even above his already receded hairline.

“A waltz?” Saïd asks with a touch of exasperation.

“Yes, actually.”

“Really?"

“No.” he says, deadpan. His dry sarcasm doesn’t seem to be realised as a lie - he does in fact, know how to waltz - but Corvus thinks he can use it to his advantage.

“I can’t do any of those high court dances.” And this makes Callum’s eyes widen in realisation and Rayla’s brow furrows as she figures it out. Barius nods in understanding and Corvus has to say, this does make him feel a hell of a lot better.

‘I know traditional ones from where I live’ he almost says but he doesn’t want to give them any ammunition. He’d really rather not perform in front of a whole festival or ballroom. Sure, on his cello that’s fine - he’s been playing since he was a child and was comfortable with that, not dancing .

Opeli’s gaze softens though, more so than the others and her understanding this makes him feel better. Vindicated too but shhh , she didn’t need to know that.

“How did you not learn?” Rayla asks. The Crownguard understands she is referring to after he joined the Crownguard.

“Never had the time,” Shrugging, Corvus continues “Plus, for the last few balls and events, I’ve either been on duty or there as a musician.”

Curious, Rayla presses him a little more, “And before?”

“I've always been the musician.” Corvus says simply and Ezran smiles softly at this.

“Always?” Opeli and Rayla ask in unison - an act that seems to surprise them more than Corvus.

“Always been the musician.” Corvus confirms, his voice wry - fondly really, he does love his music and his cello.

Corvus is very unfortunately brought back to reality when Saïd raises his hand and everyone turns to him, “Sorry to interrupt Your Majesty-, High Cleric, my Lady, Crownguard, but- you will need to learn.” He turns to face Rayla at this last part and Corvus can feel his heart jump in his chest.

Okay maybe cause he was looking at Rayla means he wasn’t talking about me , Corvus thinks desperately as Saïd continues.

“This is meant to be a celebration for all to take part in, especially those who helped fight against the Midnight Star.” 

Fight against because we didn’t win-  

We will next time, Corvus assures himself and judging by the grim set of everyone else's faces, they’re thinking the exact same thing. 

But then it occurs to Corvus that he has a job to do and this job doesn’t stop for a single dance in a ball so maybe, just maybe-

“You won’t be on duty for this part.” Saïd says instantly when Corvus’ mouth opens.

Dammnit.

“You will have to learn the dance.” Saïd says, looking directly at Corvus.

Double dammnit.

Briefly, Corvus thinks that fighting Aaravos might be preferable to dance lessons. Being so close with someone he doesn’t know - ew , just no.

Corvus is beginning to get the feeling he’s not getting out of this based off of Saïd’s intense, steady gaze. He’s at the very least going to not be suffering for this. 

“Would it be… like one-on-one?” Hesitantly, Corvus asks, and Ezran straightens upright in realisation, even as Corvus continues;

“I’m not sure how comfortable I am with that” The Crownguard admits, unable to stop the way he holds his wrist self-consciously with everyone’s eyes on him.

“You could join me!” Ezran suggests with a grin and Corvus barely manages to suppress a grimace - the boy may mean well but even though he hadn’t seen him, he knew for a fact that Ezran was a good dancer and that would be more than humiliating enough.

Something in his thoughts must leak through on his face because Callum steps forward, a hand on Ezran’s shoulder

“Ez, maybe that would be a lot for Corvus,” Callum gently suggests before taking on a lighter tone “After all, I would know - you remember all our shared classes?”

Ezran’s chuckles then turn to full blown laughter as Rayla mutters something about Callum’s two left feet.

Ah, that must be why she asked me, not Callum, Corvus realises. He didn’t realise the prince wasn’t the most proficient dancer - he was light on his feet as a fighter, Corvus couldn’t see why it wouldn’t translate to dancing.

With his laughter tapering off, Ezran hums thoughtfully, “Well, I’m sure Michelle won’t mind teaching you? She’s lovely but she will push you and for some, it’s a bit … much.” 

Corvus knows Ezran is referring to his dance instructor, and both Ezran and Corvus pull twin grimaces, - Corvus hasn’t formally met her but he’s heard about her from his king and seen her in Evrkynd. Corvus certainly doesn’t mind being challenged but he does mind someone he doesn’t know being so close to him. 

Saïd looks very close to agreeing to this arrangement and Corvus racks his brain for something to help him get away with this.

But then, as if Corvus doesn’t think this could get much worse, it does.

“Hey guys,” Corvus knows this voice as well as he knows the timbre of his cello and ignores how his heart hitches as he looks over to see Soren entering the throne room, “What did I miss?”

Corvus has a brief moment to think ‘Oh no, not again ’ before Ezran immediately proves himself as the youngest sibling.

“Corvus can’t dance.” Ezran says instantly, chirping, and Corvus shoots him a glare.

At a breakneck speed, Soren whirls around to face Corvus, surprise briefly crossing over his face but Corvus is instantly struck with the intensity of those blue eyes. Though, any fluttering feelings in his stomach are instantaneously doused out like a flame under water at Soren’s following words.

“You can’t dance?” 

“For the hundredth time- I’ve always been the musician.” Technically, Corvus does know how to dance, just not the dance he’s expected to know.

But at Corvus’ words, a grin splits across Soren’s face and in response, Corvus feels what he thinks is a healthy amount of trepidation.

“You can’t dance .” And now his partner sounds gleeful and undeniably delighted by this development.

“Okay, now you’re really rubbing it in.”

Rayla laughs loudly at this and Opeli hides her smile behind her hand.

“I could teach you.” Soren blurts all of a sudden,and Corvus just stares at him, wondering if he’s heard the blond correctly 

“Huh?” He says dumbly as he thinks he really needs to stop reacting like this.

Soren goes red but he doesn’t back down, “I… I could teach you the dance, if you’d like?” he asks even though he’s offering his aid. Floored, Corvus can only gape at the Head Crownguard like he’s grown a second head and Soren is only slightly concerned at this reaction.

Opeli’s clucking tongue snaps the tracker from his shocked daze, "C'mon Corvus, don’t make it say him again, that’s just mean .” 

Corvus glances at her to see mirth and teasing in her eyes, clearly amused by this. In return, Corvus glares at her - a look that clearly communicates this is your fault, don’t you forget it - to which she is unperturbed and when he grows visibly frustrated at her, a grin splits across her briefly before it disappears in an instant.

Discovery of the day: Opeli is secretly evil, Corvus notes to himself mentally, as if this isn’t the first time he’s discovered this. 

Sighing, Corvus shakes this off and turns back to the matter at hand.

Soren is still waiting, clearly giving him time to think it over - something Corvus’ is incredibly grateful for even though it doesn’t really take him that long. Soren is someone he knows very well, he quite literally trusts him with his life. They work on similar schedules, Soren was a good teacher and also most likely a good dancer if he volunteered himself. Corvus wasn’t going to struggle with the musicality of it and he was a quick learner. This was an efficient, effective solution, Corvus tells himself. 

But really, it boils down to:

Soren teaching him how to dance? 

Absolutely, sign him the fuck up.

But in utter contrast to his mind and heart’s enthusiasm, he simply nods in agreement and Soren grins blindingly at him.

If this went well, he would treat Opeli to, well, anything she wanted.

Chapter Text

It has to be said that Corvus would consider himself a relatively self-assured person; unwavering in his character, morals and abilities. 

He knows he is a talented fighter and tracker, driven in his goals but logical in his method. He knows he is ultimately a good person - that he is kind, supportive, conscientious and caring. He knows he can be overly concerned or worried but that it stems from his deep love for others. 

He also knows that he’s hardly a prideful person but he does pride himself on being observant, deductive and perceptive. 

And he knows he doesn’t like being doubted on that. 

So, it can be said that Corvus notices things. Corvus is excellent at noticing things. 

Unrelated, he’s also pretty good at ignoring things too. 

One of which is … whatever is going on between him and Soren.

Not to be ridiculously sappy, but Soren is Corvus’ best friend. He won’t deny that . Well, at least to himself; but he’s pretty sure Soren knows. Soren knows him; his quiet, loyal affection, and he knows Soren; his bold, bright kindness. Both of them trust each other unconditionally but also remind the other of when they aren’t themself, grounding them. 

And it has to be said that over time, Corvus is beginning to hazard a guess that his feelings are not as unreciprocated as he thought.

But he can’t make that move. He just can’t . There needs to be something more concrete than lingering glances, kind words - because that’s just who Soren is anyway - and stolen moments that later feel somewhat like a distant dream.

Corvus is scared of something. Rejection, he supposes but really, if he digs deep, he knows that it’s losing Soren. Corvus can’t have that.

Like he said, Soren is his best friend. At night when he feels weakest, there is a fear within him that whispers that if he was to confess and it wasn’t reciprocated, that they wouldn’t have what they have now. That he would lose Soren - he wouldn’t leave or anything, but they would drift. Out of awkwardness, or whatever comes with one-sided affection that both parties know of.

Obviously he wants more - call him selfish - but he isn’t stupid. He won’t risk what he has on simple observations. 

No matter how much he doesn’t like being doubted. No matter how much he trusts himself and his skills. 

It’s not enough. Soren deserves more . 

Corvus has risked many-a-thing on even a single observation, a minute detail and although this has often turned out correct, he won’t risk anything with Soren. He cares too much for him and their relationship - whatever form it takes - means more than anything to him. 

So, he’ll ignore it, he’ll wait. Deny it, not risk anything and then, only late at night, allow himself to think of those kind, beautiful blue eyes.

Unfortunately for him, the universe has other plans. 

Actually, it turns out he is the one with other plans.

It surprises Corvus when he’s the one to approach Soren about the lesson. Judging from the slight widening of Soren’s eyes, he’s not the only one surprised by this.

Soren doesn’t ask if Corvus is sure, even though his nervousness is palpable and evident, because he knows that Corvus wouldn’t ask if he wasn’t already sure. 

Soren is probably also aware that Corvus wouldn’t want to repeat himself, especially concerning something that would involve him laying himself bare and vulnerable to someone else. Even if it’s Soren and he knows he can trust him. That he does trust him.

So, Soren doesn’t ask and instead grins brightly, something reassuring in his gaze. The nervous butterflies in Corvus’ stomach settle slightly at this and he really doesn’t think about how a single look from Soren is enough to calm him.

“Brilliant! We can get started … well, now I suppose? We’re not on shift for a few hours.”

‘We’ because Corvus is pretty sure Soren purposefully arranges their shifts together. One of the perks of being the Head Crownguard, Corvus supposes. 

Ignoring how his ears feel hotter, Corvus nods back and Soren beckons the tracker to follow him. Corvus does so without question and somewhere in him, something swirls with the subtext of this but he doesn’t quite have the energy to parse it. Sure, technically. Soren is his commanding officer and he follows him regardless, but also this is Soren , a good man, his friend and someone he loves and trusts like the earth herself so Corvus will always follow him. Trust him. 

Soren leads him through the castle halls and they pass staff who bow their heads at the two knights. Both men return the gestures as Soren strikes up a conversation about some unrelated nonsense that has Corvus relaxing instantaneously. He makes dry, witty comments that have Soren laughing - Corvus’ favourite type of laugh, one that is full-bellied and filled with so much joy , joy that he always deserves to feel - and this is normal. Soren talking, Corvus listening; Soren being, well, Soren and Corvus being so in love with him at any given moment. Yes, normal .

Normal in the same way that Soren walks and Corvus just follows. No words exchanged to prompt this; he’d always do it. Always be his shadow. Soren was his light, right?

Before Corvus knows it, his moments of reflection are over as the two enter a room. It’s relatively large, though not as large as the throne room. Wooden panels run parallel across the floor without any of the carpet that line the halls, mirrors cover a couple of the walls and there’s some equipment scattered to the sides out of the way.

Corvus recognises it as a training room that they use when weather conditions forced them to do it inside. Granted, it was good, beneficial even, to train in bad weather but there was also a point where lives could be risked and more importantly, a point when no one wanted soggy socks. Corvus does stress that this is a joke to Soren but Callum nods a touch too sagely when this is brought up and the tracker has a worrying feeling that neither of them are actually joking. 

Then, in a motion that absolutely fries Corvus’ brain, Soren doesn’t hesitate to start removing his clothing. There's a brief moment where Corvus thinks his soul has been sucked from his chest with how light he feels and how hard his heart starts beating in his chest but then - because he hasn’t looked away - he realises Soren is only removing his armour.

Oh. Right. Makes sense. Can’t swim in armour, can’t dance in armour. Fair, fair. 

Fighting the flush rising on his cheeks, Corvus has never been so relieved for his darker skin disguising any blushing, especially concerning what is technically an innocent act and Corvus might have a dirtier mind than he thought. (Saying that, he’s not the one making poo jokes to his king.) His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath to calm his hammering heart.

Admittedly, Corvus is still watching him but still, he makes no move to look away - Soren hasn’t noticed his wandering gaze (he has, by the way) so Corvus allows himself to watch Soren. How he methodically removes each piece, carefully putting them on the ground by his feet. Soon, all the armour pieces are neatly ordered and Soren is left in his gambeson and Corvus is struck with just how well the dark red of it suits Soren. 

Something in him snaps to attention and follows after Soren. Corvus begins to remove his armour but leaves on his scarf. It’s armour in its own right, really, but Soren rarely sees him without it. Corvus is big enough to admit that although he doesn’t quite sleep with it on, it is close enough.

A clap draws Corvus’ gaze to look over at Soren expectantly.

Dance time, I guess, he thinks with what he thinks is a healthy amount of trepidation.

“Uh, alrighty!” Soren grins and it’s just a little awkward and oh so endearing that a fond smile tugs at Corvus’ lips. 

“Just warm up for now - it’s not a fight but it is exercise. Some stretches would also be quite good but do whatever suits you.“ 

And for a moment, they make eye contact and they keep it. The look they share is gentle and intense all in one go and it makes Corvus' heart flutter in his chest. He needs to get a grip , he thinks briefly but mostly is glad for the warm up as to ease himself into this and he thinks Soren had thought that too. He was smart like that. Considerate like that.

With a smile, Soren begins his warm up and again, Corvus watches him. (In his defence, his job as a soldier and tracker in the Standing Battalion was literally to watch things) But his gaze is keen and even though he watches Soren to get a feel for it, he does note that normally, Soren’s warm ups were pretty well rounded but this time had more of a focus on stretching. Corvus would normally have a focus on anything that leant itself to long distance exercise - something that balanced out to Soren’s fast paced strength, is a fact that’s not lost  on him - but for dancing, he thinks copying Soren’s warm up should be enough.

In a comfortable quiet, the two finish their warm ups - Soren does so slightly ahead of Corvus and when the other man isn’t looking, Soren takes a moment to admire Corvus and his quiet dedication. His devotion. 

Without much flourish, Corvus finishes his last stretch and looks over to Soren expectantly - he assumes now Soren will teach him the dance. Maybe go through the steps first? 

“So… how are we doing this?” Corvus purses his lips slightly, his feet shifting. Suddenly, something occurs to him and he changes his question, curiosity lacing his tone. 

“How did you learn?”

“Not how I’m going to teach you.” Soren replies, without a backwards glance at Corvus while he pushes their armour further to the side.

A touch offended, Corvus wonders if Soren thinks that lowly of him. Indignant, Corvus opens his mouth to say something in response but Soren continues on with no hesitation.

“You’ve always been guided by your sight. Your memory isn’t as photographic as Callum’s - or whatever Callum calls his, but it’s good. Really good.” Soren’s words utterly floor Corvus and make his heart pound in his ears. Straightening upright, Soren turns to Corvus with a smile that makes his heart do somersaults in his chest. 

“You pick up things best when you see it. So first , I’ll show you the dance that you’ll be doing.”

Corvus can’t describe how touched he is. Though touched isn’t even the right word. It doesn’t encompass how it feels to be seen , to be known .

‘To be loved’, is how the phrase is completed, Corvus knows.  

He swallows thickly at this reflection but he can’t quite respond yet and so he doesn’t. He needs the right words for Soren. 

Corvus hasn’t responded but Soren doesn’t seem thrown by this, still smiling softly at Corvus. Then, his smile splits into a grin:

“Watch and learn.” Soren teases, winking at Corvus who rolls his eyes fondly in response.

Soren has always always been a very grounded fighter. This was notable in his form and stance of a solid base allowing him lots of strength and momentum. But the stance he takes before Corvus is different; he doesn’t lose the grounded quality he exudes in buckets but immediately there is a shift in energy. In this starting position, a lightness is noticeable in his upper half. 

Then, there is a beat where Soren purposefully exhales and he begins to dance.

And suddenly, as Soren moves, as he dances , Corvus is struck with the realisation that there is no music but for the only time in his life, Corvus doesn’t need it.

The way Soren moves - Corvus almost forgets to pay attention to the dance itself instead entranced with the movements alone. He’s never seen Soren like this; it’s like another side to him and Corvus suddenly realises just how much it suits him and how much he wants to see so much more of it.

The dance itself seems to begin with one person; as Soren steps forward and backwards, he has a slight sway to his motions and Corvus could imagine the cello part. Soren has one hand poised behind his back, the flow of his posture extending through his fingers whilst his other hand is held out before him. His arm is bent at the elbow and his hand is the centre point as he turns around this. He follows through, forwards and backwards, switching hands. 

Again, he does all this with no music, the music unheard to Corvus but guiding Soren’s every move. 

Then Soren appears to take a more structured hold and his feet follow specific motions. The heel of his foot meets the floor first, then the ball of his foot and then he pivots, and begins anew, the pattern switching. Four bars, Corvus counts absently as he focuses on Soren’s dancing. 

Now out of this position, Soren’s hands are loose, but ready in a way that is not unlike his grip on his sword. At certain movements, he seems to take an invisible figure by the hand, fingers curling softly around air. Corvus is utterly entranced.

Soren is lost in the dance,  even humming unconsciously and each of his movements are smooth, flowing and clearly well practiced. To Corvus and his untrained eye, this looks practically perfect. He glides through different moves that the tracker couldn’t name for the life of him, leaning back into a few dips and twirls into spins before drawing his feet together back into the closed, held position as before. His footwork is incredible .

Despite all the ways Corvus has likened the dance to a fight, despite the way Soren commands it and his movements, there is still a softness that you would never see in a fight. This reminds Corvus of what the dance is . Of intimacy. Of closeness. Of trust. 

In a motion that pushes from his heel, Soren follows through in a sweeping arc of his arms. He then turns around - pivoting really - back into his position from the start of the dance with his arm raised before him, swaying circles forwards and backwards. His hand cupped with an invisible partner. 

Although it is obvious when Soren finishes the dance - he stops, holds the final position for a held beat before dropping out of the hold and turns to Corvus - Corvus can do nothing but gape in shock, awe, admiration, love. He snaps to attention when he notices Soren’s slightly proud smile but the blond’s cheeks don’t disguise his slight blush. 

Corvus takes a beat to digest the dance, speedrunning what he can recall of the choreography in his head before applauding his friend with utter fervour. 

Soren flushes a darker colour but bows regardless and Corvus lets out a little whoop that has Soren cracking a grin. This reminds him of Soren’s dragon comedy routine for Zubeia. That felt like an age ago.

Soren clears his throat, rubs the back of his head, Corvus trying desperately to not stare at how his muscles are far more defined without the armour over them, “So, uhh, any questions?”

Corvus shakes his head slightly to rid himself of his more … heated thoughts and walk around Soren in a circle. Corvus hums thoughtfully.

“Hmm, a couple but I’d like to try it first then figure it out from there.” The Crownguard decides and Soren nods in assent.

“Okay then, so what do you start with?” Soren asks him and Corvus mimics what he saw the blond do. Soren nods and steps closer into Corvus’ space that has his shoulders stiffening in some bizarre anticipation. 

He had noticed the faint scent of Soren’s aftershave before but not like this . Not in a way that consumed his senses. Not in a way that makes the rushing of blood in his ear roar . 

“Good, correct position.” Nodding approvingly, Soren then adds “You’re tense, lighten up a bit.”

Gee, I wonder why , Corvus thinks with his heart still thundering in his chest.

Then, any thought he has is utterly swept into the wind at the slightest feeling of Soren’s hand on the small of his back. The gesture itself is light, innocent and lasts barely a second - it’s only to guide him to relax - but Corvus’ breath catches in his throat and he thinks his face might actually be on fire.

Soren, somehow, seems entirely unaffected by what’s just occurred. Or unaware and really, Corvus doesn't know what’s worse.

“Right. Show me what you’ve got.”

Corvus nods determinedly. Focusing his mind, he begins the dance. He knows that he’s missing some details but he remembers the overarching choreography well enough that even when his transitions are messy, it flows well. For the specifics of the footwork, he does his best but some of the intricacies are lost on him because how is he meant to go out from a pivot - onto his heel or the ball of foot? He doesn’t know.

All the while, Soren watches him. He does so with a neutral look on his face but nods approvingly at certain moves. Other than these moments, Corvus feels slightly nervous at the lack of reaction but he does know that this is how Soren teaches new recruits - his training tends to be more encouraging even if it involves a loud yell to pick up the pace but Corvus thinks there must be a level of overlap between the two.

But Corvus finishes his first run through and before he even has a moment to be surprised at how out of breath he is - he thought he was fit - Soren is already moving towards him.

“Okay,” Soren starts as he stands shoulder to shoulder with Corvus. “I’ll do it with you. Or you do it with me, however you want to phrase it.”

“In unison.” Corvus offers, Soren nodding in a dismissive agreement, far more focussed in pushing Corvus' foot into the correct position with his own.

“Yeah, that.”

As the two of them go through the dance together, Soren guiding him through the steps, Corvus is struck with the memory of playing pieces alongside with his cello teacher. Both styles of duet encourage him to be bolder with his motions, his rhythms are firmer and he has a direct reference to compare himself to to improve from.

Without even making conscious notes, he corrects his form throughout the dance to match Soren. The Crownguards step forwards and backwards with parallel footwork and Soren points out small errors, showing him the correct steps. Together they dance and Soren cheers when they land on the finishing position with identical forms.

Corvus suddenly realises something and spins on his heel to turn and face Soren, “So you’re doing something else?”

“Hm?” Soren’s questioning tone and tilted head encourages Corvus to continue and the tracker explains:

“You said earlier you’d show me my part.” He doesn’t say more than this, not quite sure how to phrase it in his head but Soren clearly understands judging from the way he nods his head enthusiastically. 

“Yeah! There's a partner part to it - I did kinda assume you’d want to lead, be in control for this-” Corvus inhales sharply, something unnameable blooming in his chest as Soren continues to ramble, “- even if it’s something you don’t know, you’re still putting yourself out there so I thought you might feel better for that!”

To be loved is to be known, Corvus recalls and he thinks it might be hope flourishing in him. He’s touched but again, this is one of those moments when he thinks maybe, just maybe, Soren might feel similar to him that Corvus already does for him.

His eyes are soft and warmth floods his veins and he offers Soren a smile, something more gentle, personal. Soren meets this with his own - not one of his blinding grins, but something gentler, though no less true.

“I’ll follow your lead.” Corvus says dryly and Soren laughs brightly at this.

“We’ll take it slow, don’t worry.” Soren assures him as he offers his hand to Corvus with a slight bow. 

The sight utterly floors Corvus for a moment - Soren is bent at the waist but his head is raised and eyes trained steadily on Corvus with a twinkle in his eyes, but also soft and something ineffable in that gaze. 

Covus reaches out, putting his hand in Soren’s - he puts it there, but he also curls his fingers gently around Soren’s hand - and the blond tugs him slightly closer in a motion that has Corvus’ heart fluttering and breath hitching.

Soren guides their hands to cup around each other in the starting position and Corvus gazes into Soren’s face hoping he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. Hoping that Soren can’t hear how his heart thumps against his ribs. 

Within the full form of the dance, Corvus quickly picks up on how he is to lead Soren. How Soren reacts to the momentum of Corvus' footwork, how the poets describe dancing as a push and pull for a reason, how Corvus guides the pair into the harder, more technical parts and how Corvus is the foundation of their hold, posture and shape. And sure he’s being smart and perceptive and all that but he very much is getting distracted by the feeling of Soren's chest against his own.

There are a few moments where Soren pushes the lead occasionally when it’s obvious that Corvus doesn’t quite remember the next move. But still, the two Crownguards run through the dance with relative ease for the leading partner having never done this before. Corvus’ knees wobble with the dips - both when he’s dipping Soren and also the other way around - because their faces are so close and Corvus has to fight not to look at Soren’s lips.

Are they as soft as they look, he wonders.

Then there’s a section that Corvus comes to realise is danced side by side rather than the previous position of parallel in hold. The tracker can’t help but glance down at his feet; his foot work is decent, he supposes, for not having danced before but nowhere near as good as Soren's which is essentially immaculate.

Though Soren was born into the high court, Corvus reminds himself as he admires how the dance feels so natural, so right. 

The dance finishes with only their palms pressed together and warm air exhaled in puffs in the space between them. The tension between them is taut and thick and Corvus feels that if he breathes too deeply it will shatter. 

Suddenly, the moment is over and the two spring apart, jumping out of each other’s spaces. Corvus inhales deeply as they give each other a moment to compose themselves. Weirdly, Corvus is the first to recover, turning back to Soren to see his ears a pretty pink colour.

Huh.

When Soren does turn back to face Corvus, he smiles, both content to move on from whatever that was and Soren begins to run through the basic positions for the footwork. The Head Crownguard is a good teacher, praising Corvus when the steps are done perfectly without prompting and correcting him when needed. Corvus glances between Soren to himself, to their reflections in the mirror opposite him where he notices Soren smiling proudly at him.

Soon, they decide together that that was a good start for the first day and finish up their dance lesson. The two head over to their armour gathered in the corner, and like earlier, change together in a comfortable quiet.

Again, this is a common occurrence, but Corvus finds himself watching Soren. The blond is putting his armour back on - he goes through the motions in a way that is methodical, regimented. Both of them are soldiers in their own right and the Katolis army drilled things into them like no tomorrow. Regardless, it amazes Corvus how Soren makes putting on his armour so entrancing to watch - he makes it so attractive and unfairly so. It isn’t long before Corvus finds himself lost in the image of his own hands against the clasps, pulling them loose, letting them fall to the floor the gambeson long since discarded and-

“So early-mid morning tomorrow?” Corvus asks in the most neutral tone he can muster. Do not think about any more layers coming off, do not .

“I'll see you there.” Soren smiles at him, winking before he turns to leave and Corvus calls after him, his tone utterly bemused.

“Where are you going ? We’re on shift together.” 

“Oh, right-” 

Soren startles and follows after Corvus much to his fond chuckles.

The next day, Corvus arrives at the dance studio only to see Soren already there, waiting by the door for him. The blond’s face instantly brightens as Corvus comes into view and Corvus can’t help the way his face softens. 

“My good sir,” Soren bows overdramatically, twirling his hand in an exaggerated fashion as he holds open the door for Corvus. 

“Why, thank you.” Corvus replies in a deadpan voice that has Soren laughing loudly behind him as the two enter the room. The sound of Soren’s laughter makes Corvus’ heart feel light and he smiles fondly - unabashedly - while Soren is still behind him. 

Corvus doesn’t need to be prompted to remove his armour and swiftly puts the pieces to the side next to Soren’s. Both of them were morning people - in slightly different fashions, Soren was bright and positive while Corvus was quietly productive - but they weren’t always one for talking before eight. As they began to stretch and warm up, no words were exchanged although Soren hummed some nonsensical tune.

With an exhale, Soren turns to Corvus, a smile playing on his lips, “Right. Show me what you’ve got.”

Despite how busy the previous day had been, Corvus took any free moment he had to go over the choreography. He retraced the steps, recalled some of Soren’s notes about footwork and did his best to remember it. 

Yes, he does also remember the feeling of Soren’s warmth pressed comfortably against him but this isn’t the time , he has to remind himself.

He takes up the starting position, glancing at Soren for approval but all the man does is nod for him to continue. Corrections would follow it seems - Corvus presumes that Soren would see how much he remembered and direct the lesson from there. 

Without much fanfare, the tracker continues the dance. Each movement is particular - a little bit too placed but Corvus wants to make sure his footwork is correct - so the dance doesn’t have as much flow as Soren’s did the day before. He stumbles through some of the footwork in the more complicated moves and any dip or motion balanced with a partner has no support but as he finishes it up, he thinks he’s done relatively well.

With his skin prickling in some kind of nervous anticipation, Corvus glances at Soren through his dreadlocks. Which should probably be tied up for this, Corvus then considers briefly. 

For a moment, Soren’s face is disconcertingly blank, and Corvus’ heart pounds in his chest.

Was it not good enough? What did he do wrong?

But then suddenly, Soren’s face breaks out into a pleased, approving smile. Instantly, relief floods Corvus’ veins.

“Well done!” Soren continues but Corvus can barely see past Soren’s blinding smile, “You’ve remembered the choreography incredibly well and the footwork is already very solid! Though I’m not particularly surprised by this considering it’s you and all-” 

Corvus doesn’t know what to make of this particular comment although his face does flush with warmth.

Soren shrugs absently, seemingly oblivious to Corvus’ reaction, “There’s a few small details that need fixing but I think you know that. And the dance itself; it could be smoother but I’m not concerned. First off, your musicality and second, it’s only the second day and you’ve remembered the entire dance with incredible accuracy - flow will come with confidence as well.”

Corvus’ mouth might be hanging agape. He doesn’t think he’s ever been complimented this much. Genuinely complemented this much. Not for any ulterior motives, but just plain observations, much like those Corvus is famed for. 

And Soren does this all because that’s just who he is and there’s no word to describe how touched Corvus is. How Soren can say the right words, to inspire Corvus, to support him, to make him laugh. Even in exasperation. 

But somewhere in the midst of this reflection, a voice that sounds like his mum reminds him not to catch flies in his mouth and to mind his manners and in reflex, his jaw snaps shut.

“Thank you, Soren.” Corvus is a man of a few words but he attempts to pour years of admiration, gratefulness, love, friendship , into these few words, “It means … so much to me.”

Corvus hopes Soren hears the unheard words. Those words that don’t particularly belong in this conversation but are for Soren, always.

The corners of Soren’s lips upturn and his eyes soften.

“Of course.”

And like the poets have said before, the two took a moment to just stare at each other longingly. Corvus isn’t sure what poet said that, but he’s sure one of them did.

Corvus lets his gaze wander from the tender expression gracing Soren’s features, to his relaxed, comfortable stance, and to how they were standing a lot closer than he remembered them being. He was close enough to Soren to note the warm puffs of air on the bridge of his nose and how Soren was just a touch taller than him.

Corvus notes how if he takes a small step forward, he could close the gap between them (not that there’s much of one anyway) just like that-

Abort, abort, abort!-

With his head snapping back at lightning speed, Corvus stammers out some words, hoping that they make a coherent sentence.

“I, uhh, you- no we- right this is a question, should we continue?” He eventually manages to make out in what he will forever deny as a squeak. Soren stiffens as he snaps to attention, hands waving around wildly as he speaks.

“Ah shit, yes of course right !-”

With a heavy inhale, Soren clearly centers himself. Seeing this sobers Corvus slightly. Soren had told him about how his father had taught him to breathe through his pain and sickness and Corvus in return had taught him how his parents told him to center himself from panic. Something that Soren had just done.

But with this, Soren smiles slightly, a clear offering of ‘I’m okay, don’t worry’ to Corvus who returns it with an expression that’s slightly more tight-lipped. Sue him for being worried, okay, this is his best friend he’s not letting Soren off with one casual brush off. 

Regardless, Soren continues on with the lesson: 

“Right! So about the dance itself - it’s mostly ballroom, but it takes inspiration from some traditional, regional, Katolian dances,” With these words, Soren takes the starting position of the first and last section of the dance.

Swiftly, Soren demonstrates the section and Corvus watches the movements intently, already entranced within half a motion, “The opening and closing sections are from the south western area of Katolis.” 

Corvus gives a light, polite applause as Soren bows, continuing to speak, “Just past Mount Kalik. That famous town down towards Dragontail, you know the one.”

Corvus blinks.

“Corelli?” He replies dryly and Soren snaps his fingers at him. 

“Bingo! That one!

Corvus pulls a face, his hands splayed before him, “It’s only the most populated city in Katolis?”

Soren waves a hand flippantly as he speaks, “Yeah, yeah you’ve read books we all know this.”

Raising an eyebrow, Corvus levels Soren with a flat look.

“I’ve grown up here, lived here all my life,” If possible, Corvus raises his brow even more and Soren rubs the back of his neck with a touch of sheepishness, “Okay don’t judge, you're well aware geography isn’t my specialty.”

Corvus instantly cringes at the memory of The IncidentTM.

Point taken.

“And history is?” Corvus’ comment is teasing but for some reason, Soren seems to brighten at Corvus’ words.

“I’ll tell you what history is!”

“Yeah?”

“A see-saw.” 

And Soren says this, in a tone with such a strange combination of matter of fact and pride that Corvus can’t help the way a laugh bubbles out of him, unbidden. He slaps a hand to his mouth to clamp it shut and stop the noise. Taking an inhale through his nose, he manages to swiftly steady his laughter. 

His hand falls to rest on his cocked hip, his brow raised and lips quirked.

“A see-saw yeah?” Corvus is utterly amused by this but instead, Soren seems completely distracted, a bright blinding grin stretching across his face.

“You laughed.”

Corvus rolls his eyes, “That’s not the important thing here.”

But Soren’s voice is undeniably, completely and utterly delighted. 

“ You laughed! ”

Rolling his eyes, Corvus steps a little closer to Soren, “What an observation, you coming for my job?”

“Always.” Soren winks in response and Corvus huffs in fond exasperation. Maybe once it was genuine, but now, Corvus makes no effort to hide his affection in every exhale, gentle touch and extra words.

“I’d expect nothing less- enough of that though, show me some of that nonsense fancy footwork, Mr Teacher.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Soren gestures for Corvus to step before him - a motion that Corvus follows through without thought - and gives Corvus a chance to take hold. With a nudge of his foot, Soren adjusts the tracker’s foot position and Soren nods.

“Right, let’s take this from the second section.”

With this, the two Crownguards begin to dance. They run through the dance to get a feel for it and then a second time for Soren to pick out certain parts to correct. Corvus glances between Soren’s feet, his own and then both of theirs in the mirror to get another perspective.

“Okay, watch your step…” Soren suggests during a difficult spin that has Corvus more disoriented than he thought he’d be.

Then, in the out of hold section, Corvus stretches his hand out between them, “And my hand?”

“Extend it- yes like that!”

And then, going over some footwork, Soren yelps.

“ Ow , that's my toe!”

“Sorry sorry- wait, why are you wearing your boots?” Corvus cuts his apology off as he turns to Soren in confusion.

“And you are???” Soren says this as if it’s obvious and Corvus pulls a face that might be guilty.

“…I refuse to answer that.”

“Workaholic.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

Then, in a mature action, entirely befitting of his title and station, Soren sticks his tongue out.

With Soren observing from the side, Corvus practices a turn out of hold and as he gets it correct, Soren calls out an approving,“Nice, nice!” to which Corvus can’t help the small smile that plays on his lips.

With a click of his tongue, Soren steps forward towards Corvus, “No, no copy me, look at how I do it.”

Corvus studies Soren’s demonstration carefully; then, huffing slightly in concentration when he readjusts the placement of the step but it’s worth it when Soren cheers.

“Yes! That’s it, you’ve got it!”

“Lean into the dip more, I won’t let you fall.”

Corvus doesn't know what to say to this.

Then, Soren directs Corvus to run the dance a couple times, without a partner. Corvus then practices some individual steps and tries to focus on the flow of the dance itself. He doesn’t need the music but it’s an exercise in its own right to try and imagine how the music fits the dance, rather than the other way around.

“Looking good there, chain man” Soren calls out, nodding approvingly.

Corvus nods his head at him, a smile playing on his lips, “Yeah, what about you? Get off the sidelines, c’mon.” Corvus beckons Soren forward to his side, and within seconds, Soren is laughing by his side. 

And then, together, they lose track of time, enjoying dancing together, and adding a couple of twirls into the choreo for fun. Corvus stepping on Soren’s toes was definitely an accident this time, he swears . 

“Clumsy transition there, but don’t worry we’ll smooth that out.” Soren assures Corvus as they stumble out of a dip.

After they do a step that was giving Corvus grief earlier, Corvus turns to Soren, asking, “Was that good?”

Soren doesn’t hesitate with his beaming smile in return, “It was great!”

Soren guides Corvus’ through a motion, subtly taking a leading role to demotionstrate the action, “Follow through here, see push off from that foot- yes!” 

“Yes, I like that, well done!”

And then suddenly- it’s unclear who’s - a foot catches and the two stumble over their feet. With bodies colliding and limbs entangling, they desperately try to cling to their balance and to each other. 

“Woah there!-”

In an instant, Soren reacts, his hand shooting out to catch Corvus and wrapping around his waist, while Corvus reaches back out to Soren, holding onto his bicep. For a moment, all they can hear is their harsh breathing, faces inches from each other and all Corvus notices is the brightness of Soren’s eyes, his hair falling onto his face, the light freckles dusting his cheeks and the warmth that simmers in Corvus’ stomach at way Soren’s hold on him tightens, pulling him minutely closer.

“I got you.”

“...okay.” 

His heart hammers in his chest, heartbeat pounding in his ears yet it’s all white noise compared to Soren’s words, the intensity of them and his low, breathy voice. Corvus knows instantly that his cheeks are on fire but he doesn’t fail to notice Soren’s bright red blush. 

Beautiful , is all he can think.

And then, as if willed to by some unknown force - perhaps the universe, perhaps himself - Corvus loosens his grip on Soren’s arm. Slowly, he moves his hand to Soren’s face and he doesn’t miss the way Soren’s breath hitches, how they both swallow thickly. Gently, he cups his hand on Soren’s cheek, a thumb brushing over high cheekbones he had admired about more than once, and with a gentle caress of his thumb, brushes the hair that has fallen out of Soren’s eyes. 

Somewhere, he recognises that the only thing holding him upright is Soren's arm around his waist, his strength - is Soren . 

Though the motion is gentle, treasuring, he does it again but now, with more conviction. As Corvus brushes his thumb across Soren’s cheek and pushes the hair further from his eyes, the tracker notes that the hair is growing out. It looks good on Soren, Corvus thinks absently.

Though to be fair, everything looks good on Soren. Beyond any love or infatuation he feels, Corvus knows that Soren could probably pull off anything - he’s certainly got the face for it.

Gently, Soren guides the two of them to an upright position and Corvus snaps slightly to attention. The two are still breathing in the same air, they’re still so close that their noses could touch but for the moment, neither of them make a move away.

Then, suddenly-

Clearing his throat, and with a clap of his hands, Soren steps back ever so slightly. But both Crownguards are hyper-aware of how they are both still so entrenched in each other’s orbit, despite any attempts to make space. They would always come back to each other. 

“So uhh… we have the early shift tomorrow so what about meeting here at the same time, two days from now?”

“Of course.” Corvus nods and desperately tries not to think about how Soren’s hand curled around his waist. 

With another quick nod to Soren, Corvus makes a quick escape and in his retreat, he misses the way that Soren’s hand brushes against his cheek chasing the feeling of when Corvus’ had tenderly cupped his face.

Because, yes, Corvus is observant but he’s missed hands left outstretched, soft smiles behind his back, lingering touches and many fleeting glances over the years.

Chapter Text

Don’t let anyone mistake an apparent apathy for a lack of dedication of any kind is Corvus’ warning to most people.

And yes, he is speaking from experience. 

Because sure, he doesn’t have much fondness for dancing so far but he’ll sure as hell make sure that he’ll excel in the celebration ball, let alone not make any mistakes. 

So, it’s been two days after his last little ‘dance lesson’ and Corvus has since been secretly practicing the steps in his room, running through the choreography in his mind when his shift is particularly dull. Whoever has the room below his own probably thinks he’s gone mental but honestly? Corvus doesn’t care. 

He’s so prepared to have this dance absolutely nailed for his next lesson and he’s absolutely determined that nothing is going to go wrong nor will make him go wrong.

But, the morning of, he arrives at the dance studio to see Soren already there, stretching gently and then, as he yawns absently, his shirt rides up showing his well defined muscles and his low hanging trousers leave little to the imagination as Corvus’ gaze follows the tantalising sight of Soren’s hip bones down, down, down -

Oh no .

Corvus’ next warning would be to not underestimate the effect of being madly in love with your ( very fit) best friend. 

Swallowing thickly, Corvus has to force himself to knock on the doorframe. The sound of which rips through like lightning, the rhythm is all weird and stuttering and Corvus cringes but Soren barely seems to react beyond looking up and his eyes brighten instantly at the sight of Corvus.

“Hey there!” Soren beams at him because he has a shocking amount of energy this morning, or any morning really. Corvus manages a small awkward wave in return.

“Don’t worry, you’re early. I was, well, earlier! Haha!” Soren assures him before laughing brightly. 

“Uhhh…” Corvus might still be gaping a little. He steps hesitantly into the room and stands awkwardly by the doorframe trying desperately to restart his brain.

While Corvus isn’t particularly trying to hide his brain’s shutdown, something in his face must make it distinctly obvious and Soren’s lips quirk up into a teasing smirk, “Warm up? That might be a good start.” 

At the sound of Soren’s teasing, Corvus is quick to snap back to his normal response - an eyeroll.

The tracker made sure to not wear too much of his armour this morning but he does carry his kaginawa with him so he unhooks it from his belt and puts it down gently by Soren’s sword. Readjusting his scarf around his neck, Corvus starts a warm up, recalling the ones from their last lesson.

And maybe, Corvus is aware that Soren's eyes haven’t left him since he entered the room and okay sure Corvus might be purposefully warming up not facing Soren but sue him, it feels nice to be appreciated. In more ways than one.

Then, slightly out of the blue, Soren speaks, his voice carefully, a little too neutral, “How are you feeling about this?” 

Soren is probably still aware that this whole thing (dancing) is not particularly in Corvus’ comfort zone and Corvus instantly softens. Soren is just so thoughtful .

“I’m … not sure how this will go.” He admits, a frown tugging at his lips but Soren simply shrugs, unbothered and confident as he replies.

“Well, I have to say that I’ve learnt not to underestimate you.” Corvus whirls around to face Soren as the young man continues, “So, no, I’m not expecting a world class dancer but I’m hardly expecting a disaster.”

“ Oh? ” Corvus sounds almost challenging and he can see how Soren’s eyes light up at the implied competition, twinkling like gems. Soren had always liked the thrill of a competition, of a challenge of any type. And since getting to know him, Corvus was also more than happy to indulge this.

Soren then holds his hand out, bent slightly at the waist and gods Corvus would never get used to the sight of this .

“May I have this dance, my good sir?”

With a customary eye roll, Corvus takes his outstretched hand in his own, fingers curling delicately around Soren’s.

With a single, slight tug, Soren pulls him closer, so that their chests bump together and Corvus feels his breath get snatched in this singular motion. All he can smell is Soren and it’s intoxicating .

Then, all of a sudden, Soren steps back into first position, where they face opposite each other and Corvus jolts at the whiplash of this - instantly missing Soren’s warmth and his scent now imprinted in his brain.

Soren cocks his eyebrow as if to say ready and Corvus responds by tugging him into the dance. With his mouth falling agape, Soren looks a little shocked at Corvus’ boldness and the tracker allows himself a self satisfied smirk in response. Instantly, Soren’s eyes twinkle with the promise of a challenge and the two begin to dance.

While Soren is clearly leading, Corvus uses his own momentum to surprise Soren, occasionally taking the lead in certain moves. With the push and pull between them, their bodies are pressed close to each other and neither can deny that the sheer close proximity is doing something - certainly not unwanted - a warmth settling in their stomachs. 

As Soren twirls him, Corvus can’t help but let out a small delighted laugh while the world blurs around him. Soren’s hand around his waist helps to slow the move down but Corvus suddenly can barely focus beyond the feeling of how Soren’s touch burns, even though it is light. 

In a smooth motion, Soren’s hand slips around to Corvus’ abdomen, fingers splaying across the muscles there and Corvus can’t help but tense. Soren’s chest is pressed to his back and Corvus’ heart thunders like a war drum in his chest. He wonders what Soren would do if he knew the effect such a touch had on Corvus.

“Head up, Corvus.” A low, rumbling voice practically purrs by Corvus’ ear. The reminder comes from Soren as the tracker’s gaze falls to check his footwork.

Head snapping up to look at his right, Corvus flounders the instant he meets eyes with Soren who is already looking - ever so slightly down - at him with an unreadable look in his eye. Corvus’ breath is snatched as he loses himself in Soren’s eyes, suddenly unable to remember a single thing other than Soren.

Finally, Corvus manages to find his voice, swallowing thickly and looking up at Soren through his lashes.

“You first.” 

Because yes, Soren has to look slightly down at him and yes, Corvus has found on more than one occasion that he does not mind this. And yes, these two words come out far more flirtatiously than he would have intended but Soren swallows thickly something darker hazes through those heady eyes of his - Corvus finds that he also doesn’t mind this.

“ Oh, really?... ” Soren’s voice has never sounded so beautifully husky and Corvus wants to envelop himself in the sound. And then, with their faces still angled towards each other, Soren leans with the most miniscule movement. All Corvus can feel is his breath against his lips and their noses brushing in the most featherlight touch. Corvus’ is again, utterly consumed with Soren and barely conscious of anything else around him.

As Corvus opens his mouth to reply, he also pushes his body back against Soren’s but their feet collide and Corvus stumbles over them. Struggling to find purchase, Corvus’ arms flail slightly, reaching out to grab onto the nearest thing which also reaches out to grab him. Corvus stumbles into Soren’s arms as they pull him close with a forceful yank. Strong arms hold him tight and steady, pulling him closer to Soren’s chest and this shuts him up instantly . 

Their faces are super close, somehow even closer than before. Their chests are pressed together and Corvus thinks he can feel a racing, pounding heartbeat that matches his own. His gaze flickers to Soren’s face and finds something indescribable in the knight’s expression, dark heady eyes and his mouth slightly parted as he lets out little panting exhales. Corvus swallows thickly.

Then, Soren licks his lips slightly and Corvus’ eyes lock onto the movement, his breath stolen away and mouth dry.

Oh no, it’s far too early for this. 

“You should stop that.” Corvus whispers, suddenly unable to trust his voice entirely.

Soren tilts his head, baring his neck in a way that Corvus struggles to ignore, “Stop what?”

“That.” Corvus’ voice is short and his grip tightens involuntarily on Soren’s hand but the Crownguard doesn’t flinch away, daring to even press himself closer to Corvus.

“Hm.” The hum is thoughtful but Corvus can barely focus past the fact that Soren’s nose is practically against his pulse point on his neck. If it were any closer, it would be brushing against the skin there. 

“You’re too stiff with your arms.” Soren says suddenly and Corvus jolts in his arms.

“W-what?”

“When you…” Soren  coughs and stumbles past the words “hold me” and Corvus thinks both their faces might be on fire, “you’re tense”

“I...”

“I’ll show you how it's done.” Corvus can’t help but just nod as Soren steps behind Corvus, his back and Soren’s chest not touching but Corvus is nothing but hyperaware of Soren’s breathing, each exhale against his ear. With a gentle guide from calloused fingers on his wrist, Soren faces Corvus to the mirrors on the wall and to their reflection.

Corvus is utterly transfixed by the sight of both of them in the mirror and just how right it all looks. He almost can’t focus on what Soren’s feet are actually doing.

“See?...” Soren whispers in his ear, vibrations from his voice reverberating in Corvus’ chest

“You try.” But Soren doesn’t step away, they don’t reverse positions and Corvus finds himself undeniably delighted with this arrangement. Their feet move in unison, in sync, the footwork a far cry from earlier. 

And then-

“Look at you. Look how good you are” Soren’s voice is low, purring and it rumbles deep within Corvus, alighting a fire in his lower belly. Corvus’ breath hitches violently and his cheeks flush furiously.

“Fuck me… ” Corvus exhales heavily, his chest visibly heaving.

Smirking, Soren’s response is smooth and immediate, “At least let me take you out to dinner first.” 

“Double fuck- wait, no -” Corvus groans. Soren had to know the effect he had on Corvus, right?

Then, Soren chuckles, a deep rumbling sound, and Corvus decides that yes, actually, Soren does know the effect he has and is actively trying to kill Corvus.

Because yes, being madly in love aside, Soren is attractive. Corvus knows it, everyone else knows it; Soren knows it too, if this is any indication.

But then, any shit-eating smirk is replaced by a gentle, proud smile to which Corvus can’t help the feeling of butterflies in his stomach at the sight of. 

Soren rests a hand on his hip, looking at Corvus consideringly ( appraisingly? )“No but seriously for a minute, you’ve picked this up incredibly well.”

“If I knew you any better, I would say that you’ve been practicing.” Soren raises a single brow, giving Corvus a pointed look.

Ah. Whoops. 

Giving him a sheepish little smile, Corvus rubs the back of his head slightly and in response, Soren shakes head fondly.

“Though, your footwork is hesitant, which is affecting the flow of the dance.” 

Soren then demonstrates a move that Corvus knows he’s not quite getting right and the tracker takes special care to note the exact placement of the feet. It’s still a lesson after all.

But then, Soren shrugs absently, continuing, “But that comes with confidence.”

Surprise colours Soren’s face as Corvus stretches out his hand to Soren. Surprise is quickly taken over by delight, a bright smile on the blonde’s lips as he accepts the offered hand and they carry on with the dance. 

The choreography is a touch stilted and noticeably so as they arrive at the backstep before the dip. Forcefully inhaling, Corvus still can’t help but tense as he leans back, letting most of his weight be supported by Soren’s hands at the small of his back. 

His own hands are on Soren’s shoulders, his grip a touch more firm than intended but he stares back up at Soren with wide eyes. Soren would be blind to miss the slightly fearful animal in his gaze and the knight swiftly pulls the tracker to his feet. There’s a beat where his hand flutters in the space around Corvus’ figure, pausing to check on him. But Corvus, who finds that he instantly misses the feeling of Soren’s warm body against his, steps back into Soren’s space. 

Boundaries and that fabled line fade and flicker at this moment and the two lose themselves in each other's eyes.

The dance between them slows from half time to just simple swaying, flowing to music with limbs wrapped around each other. Tangled and secure. With their bodies in sync with each other, it’s as if time slows as they face each other. Chests still rising and falling not with exertion but trepidation; the tension between them electric and taut.

Slowly, but intentionally, Soren’s hand moves to rest on Corvus’ hip, a warm yet burning weight against Corvus’ body. Corvus swallows thickly and he has to ignore how he notices Soren’s eyes following the movement of his throat or else he’ll do something he regrets. Regardless, tentatively, Corvus presses himself closer into Soren, slotting their bodies together like puzzle pieces.

His heart thunders in his chest and he hopes Soren can’t tell just how on fire his cheeks are.

But saying that, Soren’s cheeks were flushed an awfully pretty pink. 

They’re still swaying gently together, their feet bumping with each tiny step. Corvus can’t see past Soren’s blue eyes, losing himself in their familiar brightness. It’s as if time stops as Soren’s hand slips around to his back, guiding Corvus’ body in the most gentle and intimate of gestures, closer to him. Breath hitching, Corvus can’t stop him, doesn’t want to stop him. 

Soren’s breath comes in gentle puffs of warm air against Corvus’ lips and Corvus is suddenly hyperware of how he has to look ever so slightly up at Soren. How Soren can hold him, the broadness of his shoulders and how his hands are only just larger than Corvus’ own from years of training. How Corvus or anyone would only know this at such a close proximity. Their limbs are tangled together, yet Corvus feels nothing but secure, in sync with Soren, swaying to unheard music. 

And Corvus has never been so aware of how close they’re faces are, how their lips are almost touching when suddenly-

“Oh my .”

Instantly, the two spring apart as if they’ve been burned. Whirling around to find the source of the voice, they see, standing in the doorway, are their fellow Crownguards Erin and Xiran. 

Erin has her hand over her lips, and gives them an odd look that when taking in their twin mortification splits into glee while Xiran simply blinks at them, a blank look on their face which is far, far worse.

“Captain. Corvus. Reports of an attack by the southern forest. We need to go.” Xiran says shortly, standing to attention before briefly squinting at them, their brow furrowing.

“You can get back to … that , later.” Corvus would laugh at the sound of their sheer bafflement if he wasn’t so utterly embarrassed. It’s not like he even knows what that was either.

“Flirting or pining?” Erin smirks, a teasing, amused glint in her sharp eyes. Corvus stiffens at this, flushing a violent red and very very determinedly doesn't look at Soren. Even though they are still close enough that he can still feel the blond’s warmth and in his peripheral, even see how Soren’s gaze flickers over towards him.

“Erin, shush” Xiran rolls their eyes, jabbing the young woman in the side with their elbow. Erin to her credit, doesn’t even flinch.

“I think it’s both. Simultaneously.” Erin continues with a wolfish grin.

“Oh my god.”

Unfortunately, for them, duty calls and later doesn’t happen. The attempted ambush was ended swiftly though not without a few painful hits and Ezran is insistent that all his Crownguards and soldiers involved with the incident, to take the evening off and rest. 

So, dutifully, Corvus heads back to his room, groaning in pain the instant his body hits his bed. 

And for a moment, he simply lies there. He’s exhausted but there’s a certain feeling etched onto his skin that has his heart fluttering, leaving him unable to sleep.

Despite the attack and subsequent bruising fight, it isn’t enough to sully the ever burning memory of Soren's hands on his body.

It’s uncharacteristic of Corvus to wake up late. Regardless of arriving back late at the castle last night after the attack, falling asleep quickly, it’s still unlike the tracker to oversleep. So, he awakes with a start, suddenly hyperaware that he’s running late for his dance lesson with Soren (a sentence he never thought he’d think before in his life ).

Quickly, he hurries through the castle halls, throwing out absent minded ‘good mornings’ as he makes his way to their dance studio. 

He startles at this. It’s not theirs . Wisdom knows why he says ‘theirs’, he thinks with a slight roll of his eyes as he makes it to the door. It’s locked which is a touch surprising but not a problem. Corvus can wait. He’s got bucketloads of patience.

It seemed Soren was also running late in that case, so Corvus just leans against the door frame, eyes trained on the hall for a familiar head of blond hair.

It doesn’t take any more than five minutes for the Head Crownguard himself to appear, hurrying down the corridor and stopping, eyes widening, when he catches sight of Corvus waiting for him with tired, yet fond eyes.

“You came?” Soren sounds surprised, slightly out of breath but Corvus assumes this is from the insane amount of stairs in the castle - seriously, who needed that many stairs?!

“I uh-” Corvus coughs and clears his throat, his eyes darting around slightly. Being honest and open like this - vulnerable if you will - really wasn’t his forte nor his modus operandi but he swallows his discomfort for Soren, “Well, yes. We’re doing this together right?” 

Corvus says this plainly even though the words seem a little awkward in this mouth, though no less genuine. Taken aback and a little shocked, Soren can’t help but let out a little laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.” His shock fades into something so ineffably fond, eyes softening and he offers Corvus a gentle smile.

With no hesitation, after Soren unlocks the door, Corvus is quick to push and hold it open, motioning for Soren to enter first with a slight tilt of his head. 

“Are you up for this?” Soren asks as he bows his head in thanks to Corvus’ gesture. 

Corvus gives him a questioning look that is almost indignant, even challenging but Soren waves his hands around, quickly correcting himself.

“I mean, were you injured in the attack last night?”

Well, okay sure Corvus was a little banged up and okay sure he tended to treat himself in the privacy of his room, especially with minor injuries and okay sure he pretty much fell straight asleep last night without getting checked over by a doctor. He feels a small stab of guilt for not actually checking in with Soren last night but he had hung around with the Crownguards long enough to check that everyone else had gone to get treated and checked over. And okay sure , he hadn’t gone to do the same for himself and really, he shouldn’t worry too much about Soren because the man was quite frankly, better and more responsible than him, because actually going to see a doctor and far more concerned with his own (and other’s) welfare.

Soren is staring at him. Corvus shifts a little uncomfortably under the intense scrutiny and when he does finally lock eyes with Soren, his breath is snatched away at the intensity. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He repeats, firmly, lowly and Corvus ignores the way his stomach curls at this change in tone. Not the time, not the time .

“Not anymore than usual.” Corvus says eventually and Soren raises a single brow, a look that’s uncharacteristic enough coming from Soren that Corvus genuinely feels chastised by it.

Corvus sighs and concedes, rubbing at the back of his neck, “I’ll let you know if anything hurts.”

Soren nods in a silent acceptance and holds out his hand to Corvus. 

Just as he takes Soren’s hand, Corvus says, “Don’t hold back though. Don’t dance any differently.”

Soren then gives him an odd look, like he knew something Corvus didn’t as his fingers curled around Corvus’.

“As you wish.”

And Soren is nothing if not a man of his word. He doesn’t hold back but there's something about how he cradles Corvus’ hand like it’s something precious - not that he is afraid of breaking it, but of devotion. Of duty, loyalty, of love .

In the quiet, all Corvus can hear is their shared breaths and the small scuffs of his feet where his footwork is a little clumsy, messy. It’s not lost on him that Soren has heavier boots on and his feet barely make a sound against the hardwood panels lining the room. 

Soren grips his hand gently as he twirls Corvus, pulling the tracker closer to him. Corvus wonders if Soren’s heart is beating as fast as his own does. If Soren knows how he affects Corvus.

In a whisper that’s barely an exhale, Corvus gently asks, “Same tomorrow morning?” 

And although Soren doesn’t respond, Corvus can feel his nod in agreement. Corvus exhales, a soft gentle sound that comes out as something closer to a content hum. The tracker-made knight doesn’t miss how Soren’s hand on his waist tightens, pulling him closer as if they could be any closer. Any more intimate than they already are.

With Soren’s hand on his waist slipping around to rest on the small of his back, his own on Soren’s shoulder and limbs wrapped around together. They’re tangled yet secure, in sync with each other and moving, flowing to unheard music. Soren’s warmth is unbelievably comforting, all encompassing and Corvus can’t help but lean into this feeling ever so slightly. 

And those sky blue eyes flicker up to meet Corvus’. They meet and an intensity like electricity crackles between them. 

And it’s at this, that Corvus realises with a start, that he’s never felt so safe.

It’s not uncommon for Corvus to find himself waking up to sweat covering his body, his heart racing and the last vestiges of a nightmare burnt behind his eyes.

He doesn't dwell on it. 

The attack the other night wasn’t exactly triggering to any standard and the memory of dragons, fire, screams and him desperately reaching out could be from any point in his life so really, who’s counting? Not him. If he really tries, he thinks Ezran was in this one but so was his older brother and Gren so evidently, it was some cursed mashup of traumatic events. 

Again, he doesn’t dwell on it. 

He’s had enough of these nightmares to know he’s not going to sleep again immediately, especially with the antsy energy running through him. Exhaustion clings to his bones and he feels utterly spent. There’s this rare stab of self-loathing at just how tired he is over a nightmare and frustration rises within him. It shouldn’t be this bad and he shouldn’t be this affected. 

How could he defend his friends, his king, if he couldn’t even function after a bad dream? 

Whatever part of him that is still rational realises that this is the point where all he can do is not dwell on it. Push the feelings to the side. They exist, they hurt, but they will pass.

So yes. He’s tired. Absolutely knackered. So while his mind races, his body cannot and he has to admit that a run is out of the question. He pauses briefly, giving a small huff of amusement - Soren has really rubbed off of him, huh?

Either way, that’s how he finds himself ending up in the kitchen nursing a cup of some Xadian tea he may or may not be addicted to. 

The palms of his hands are warm against the mug. It doesn’t burn - a fact he takes great care to remind himself of - but the warmth itself serves to calm Corvus. Warmth was safety. Heat was danger. 

In contrast to the drink, there’s a slight chill in the kitchen. It isn’t cold but the oven has been cool for a while and the ventilation in the room is effective. Where his skin is exposed, the cooler air succeeds in keeping him in the present, grounding him. 

But despite this, he isn’t quite there but he also finds that he doesn’t quite mind. He just lets himself be and sits there quietly letting the time pass. Now that he thinks about it, he might be disassociating a touch, but again, he doesn’t mind. For once, his brain is still and he just traces the shapes of the cobbles of the oven over and over again.

“Hey you.” 

It should be an indication of how bad he’s feeling that Corvus doesn’t startle but neither did he notice the figure in the doorway. He doesn’t even know how long Soren has been there. 

“Soren…” 

Corvus can’t quite find any words, nor the energy to express anything so he simply regards his friend. He takes in tired eyes, slumped shoulders and with a single look asks Soren if he wants to talk about it. Corvus offers to listen. (He doesn’t think he could talk at the minute but he would try for Soren.)

Soren shakes his head in response with something odd in his eyes and Corvus can only hum in response. Not today then. 

Soren is still looking at him with that strange look and Corvus would decipher it if he had the energy. Then immediately feels a stab of frustration for not having the energy. He needed to be ready, to defend, to fight -

Tired blue eyes rake over Corvus’ form, every line on his face, the stiffness in his shoulders and the way his grip tightens over the mug. Soren’s eyes rest on the mug itself, take in the sight of the tea and softens in understanding. 

It was rarer for Soren to find Corvus down here, but it had happened before.

Some part of Corvus that hasn’t quite shut down sees how Soren genuinely doesn’t look as worn as the knight normally does from a nightmare. He’s still haunted - that much is clear - but his eyes are clearing by the second and there’s no shaking limbs, heavy motions that normally accompanied Soren on worse nights.

Soren doesn’t hesitate a moment longer before sitting with Corvus. 

It’s nice. It’s really nice, actually. They sit in peaceful silence, some kind of mutual understanding or solidarity if you will. The kind that came with knowing another person perhaps more than yourself, so much so that you knew their dreams or nightmares as if they were your own. Felt it, as if they were your own. 

Somewhere in this moment, Corvus realises Soren has his ridiculous patterned pyjamas on - the pink ones were burned, for more reasons than one - but these are a gaudy turquoise and have serpents on them (his mum was from Del Bar, Corvus recalls distantly).

They don’t talk. They don’t have to talk. Sure, Corvus is more partial to silence or comfortable quietness and Soren is known for his loud, joyous commentary. But they could do both. They could discuss many things - their jobs, their interests, nonsensical topics, just about anything - but also, like now, sit in the night with only the cool air and each other.

Also a surprisingly addictive Xadian tea. Glancing at his mug, Corvus frowns in disappointment when he sees there’s only dregs left. When did he finish it? He doesn’t even remember drinking it.

Corvus suddenly has the feeling that something is watching him and looks up, glancing around wildly to find the source. Soren is studying him. Corvus can’t quite name the expression; he looks somewhat curious but his brows are furrowed in the way that they do when Soren is upset. Concern flickers through his hazed state and Corvus straightens up a bit. 

“Soren?” He asks, and his voice is strange. Far away.

“Hm?” Soren startles and blinks a couple times, snapping himself back into the present.

Corvus doesn’t trust his voice or his ears; he doesn’t want to hear how weak his voice sounds. So he simply gestures towards Soren with a nod that between them, clearly communicates what's on your mind?

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Soren sighs, embarrassed. 

“You.”

Eh?

Soren’s response is so simple, his admittance so honest and genuine and filled with layers upon layers of subtext that Corvus cannot even begin to unravel. His cheeks heat up, his traitorous heart beats faster because maybe, just maybe, on this late night his feelings might not be as unreciprocated as he thought- as he knew .

But Corvus is clearly still out of it, missing something that he would understand- that he should understand because Soren rises and holds his hand outstretched to Corvus.

“Dance with me?” 

Oh.

Corvus is already reaching out to meet Soren despite his hesitance. “I-”  

And his hand is centimetres from Soren’s when he pauses. Why would he offer this? Corvus doesn’t know and he hates this. He still feels so far removed, so far away from his body and mind that even though this is Soren offering - Soren who he trusts more than any observation he’s ever made - that he can’t help but stare at Soren’s open hand like it’s a threat. 

But this is Soren .

“Of course.”

Soren’s face splits into a bright smile and it’s worth it. The squirm of discomfort up his spine means nothing to the sight of Soren’s happiness. 

Soren’s fingers close over Corvus’. The touch is light enough that Corvus could pull his hand away if he wanted, but solid enough that for some reason, breathing comes easier, his shoulders are lighter.

With a gentle tug, Soren takes Corvus into his orbit and he doesn’t resist. Corvus takes a deep breath as Soren’s hand lightly rests on his waist. This action doesn’t make him feel as hot and heavy as before but instead this is a different type of intimacy. Of closeness. Of putting his trust into someone else. Especially in this moment, where his mind isn’t quite there and yet he still surrenders his body to Soren. That kind of trust and intimacy. This was the kind that really mattered to Corvus at the end of the day.

Soren is warm and Corvus can feel gentle puffs of air on his face as Soren exhales. He’s there, alive and Corvus sinks into this feeling; the way Soren’s body is solid against his own but not suffocating, the way his thumb brushes tenderly over Corvus’, the way they fit, their hips pressed together.

Soren leads Corvus into a dance that Corvus recognises as a slow version of the dance they’ve been practicing for the last four days. It’s not quite at half the tempo as the original but something about the quiet kitchen makes it seem like a slow dance. Their feet move in tandem, then into parallel as Soren leads Corvus backwards. Wordlessly, the pair adapt their step sizes for the smaller space. 

Bending back into a dip, Corvus’ breath hitches as Soren’s hand raises higher up his back to protect his back from the tabletop edge behind the tracker. It’s this kind of gentle love, small gestures, that Corvus will treasure about Soren. 

Corvus straightens up and, taken by some unknown bravery, presses into Soren more than they were before, now able to feel Soren’s chest inhale deeply at this action. They stare into each other's eyes, pausing and Corvus’ eyes flicker over Soren’s features; he looks calm, at peace, happy. There’s a look in his eye that if he knew any better he might call it love. 

He does know better but he doesn’t quite want to face it right now. He had enough trouble accepting his own feelings and he feels if he thinks too hard now, he might just fall back into a night of flames and destruction. 

In a smooth action, Soren sweeps Corvus into the next move, pulling a surprised laugh from his throat and Soren beams. The atmosphere feels lighter now and the two pick up the pace ever so slightly, tripping over each other's feet as they try to adjust it for the smaller room making them chuckle in unison. They settle into a rhythm and unconsciously, a small smile settles across Corvus’ lips. It takes Corvus a beat to realise that he isn’t quite looking at his feet but still getting the footwork right. 

They run through the dance, Soren not bothering to correct any moves - Corvus’ or his own, he doesn’t know - and another, but only half way before they twirl into an actual slow dance.

Falling into swaying side to side feels so natural, domestic and Corvus allows himself to slip into the dazed state. He is safe. Soren has him. His warmth is present and it is enough to chase away the vestiges of the nightmare. Basking in this, he lets his head rest against Soren’s and after a beat, he feels the knight do the same to him, a solid weight grounding him. The two sway side to side and Corvus doesn’t know how much time has passed and finds that nor does he care. 

“Corvus?” He loves the way Soren says his name, Corvus thinks. As if each syllable was something to be treasured, the sound of his name a beautiful harmony to the melody of Soren’s voice. Soren’s warmth lulls Corvus into safety and he allows himself to sink a little further into the haze. Although he is still a touch distracted - still not quite there - Corvus recalls Soren’s questioning tone and hums as a response, to let Soren know he was heard.

Then, Soren’s following words succeed in bringing him to attention slightly, pulling him from the warmth and out of whatever funk was settling over his mind.

“You’ve really never danced?” 

The tracker rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue as Soren directs the two of them into a box-step.

“Of course, I’ve danced.” 

With a slight glance down to his feet, Corvus double checks his feet positioning. As he does this he misses the small, proud smile Soren gives him over his head. 

In an act that surprises himself, Corvus continues:

“I- uh,” Despite his hesitation he knows that now he’s started, he won’t stop now. The tracker-made-knight swallows as he confesses,“I know dances and stuff from my hometown? Nothing too extreme. Family and traditional ones, you know?” 

Hazel eyes flicker up to Soren’s face but not long enough to meet those blue eyes and Corvus glances back down at his feet. He is determined to get the step right but also being this honest and making eye contact was a tall order for him in his current state of mind so he allows himself this.

Still, he continues; “I’ve seen a fair amount of dances and I’d probably recognise them in some shape or form” Soren nods at this as if it makes sense to him, as if this was something obvious. “It’s nice to watch and obviously, I love the music itself.”

With a small glance at Soren’s face, Corvus is briefly stunned, suddenly unable to process the look of utter fond adoration on Soren’s face. How he is so clearly listening to every word out of Corvus’ mouth. Corvus’ eyes soften and he meets those blue eyes for a moment, hoping that Soren understands what he can’t quite say but that he is feeling regardless.

“For any dances from home, well, you don’t need to be perfect, you just need to enjoy it.” Corvus doesn’t normally talk at all after a nightmare, after disassociating, let alone this much on a normal day but Soren really brought something out in him. 

“It’s about family, about people . That's not to say high court stuff isn’t, I just…” 

Corvus trails off but Soren nods regardless and Corvus knows that he gets it. The high court was all about connections - they are all people after all - but it was the appearance of those connections. There was a reason the poets and playwrights found so much tragedy and drama in high society. 

Finding himself unable to say much more, Soren doesn’t push Corvus and the two continue dancing in the quiet. Corvus realises just how light he feels, how much more present he feels and just how much he is enjoying their closeness and how much he wants more. Something that was rarer for him, but he found himself desiring more and more with Soren. 

Soren pulls him into a closed position - or perhaps they already were - and Corvus finally looks into Soren’s blue eyes. 

There’s something more intimate this, something Corvus can’t quite name but he thinks no poet could capture how he feels in this moment. The way he is hyper aware that Soren is ever so slightly taller than him. How Soren’s chest rises in tandem with his. How Soren’s expression is so gentle, loving. An old, faint scar from training along the base of Soren’s neck that disappears under those ridiculous pyjamas. The way they move together like they’ve been doing this forever and always will. 

When Soren speaks, his voice is a whisper. 

“Do you enjoy it? Dancing?”

With you , Corvus wants to say but he thinks that's crossing a line.

“I like it a lot more now.” He says instead, tiptoeing around the truth. Hide your lies in truths. Still, there is a smile ghosting across his lips as he sways with Soren, in time to an unheard song.

Soren hums happily, evidently pleased , and Corvus tries extra hard to ignore the fluttering in his chest. But for now, he lets Soren twirl him and lets out a surprised laugh, feeling much lighter than he has in a while

Later that night, he doesn’t dream of fire and darkness. Instead, his dreams are of dancing in a kitchen, with the cool night air brushing upon his skin and this time, he sleeps.

One of the many things Corvus appreciates about Soren is that he also lives in a similar state of denial. 

Though to be fair to Soren, he deals with it in a far healthier fashion than Corvus does - ie. more - but that’s hardly the point here.

The point is, they don’t talk about last night - barely even acknowledge it - but there’s a little something that has shifted between them. They’re closer. Corvus bared his insides and allowed Soren in, just as he has offered (and given) that to Soren. There’s something more intense in those blue eyes as they watch him and Corvus feels his heart swell even as he hears the familiar rhythm of Soren’s footfalls in the halls.

The only vague recognition of the previous night is that Soren suggests moving their training to later in the day. To this, Corvus agrees quickly. Sure he’s a morning person but he does very much like his bed so this works out for him. 

Rather than their lesson taking place in the morning, after sunrise, this time it’s just before sunset that Corvus meets Soren by the studio door. Corvus isn’t waiting for long before Soren appears, waving wildly at the tracker as he speeds his way down the hall. When Corvus offers him a much more subdued wave, Soren’s grin grows from bright to utterly blinding . 

“Hello there!”

“Captain Soren.” Corvus greets with a nod and hides a slight smile playing on his lips. While Soren’s brightness could be a front for his pain at times, it could also be incredibly genuine and this never failed in making Corvus happy.

“Crownguard Corvus.” Soren returns this with a wink that has Corvus rolling his eyes. He pushes open the door and gestures for Soren to enter first.

“Shall we?”

“We shall!” Soren cheers and charges into the room with an enthusiasm and energy that Corvus instantly envies. Regardless, he follows after the knight and the two make quick work of removing their armour and discarding it to the side. 

Distantly, Corvus can hear a bird squawking and he realises just how quiet the room is. But equally, how comfortable it is. No pressure to talk, to fill the silences - just them and their shared air. With a glance to the side of the room opposite the door, he spots the window pushed open and the first rays of a golden sunset streak through into the room.

“ Pretty .”

Eh?

Corvus whips around at lightning speed to see Soren looking at him. Looking at him . 

His mouth is hanging open, gaping like a fish and after floundering for an embarrassing length of time he finally finds his manners and snaps it shut. 

“Pardon?” 

Soren squeaks and if Corvus wasn’t so flustered he would be utterly consumed and obsessed with how cute it was . 

“I- uhhh” Soren’s eyes dart around as if looking for an escape as his cheeks are set aflame “It’s pretty, the sunset, the light you know the colour yeah yeah that thing it’s uh, good. Yeah. Good. Pretty.” 

Then, Soren gives him an awkward thumbs up - a gesture not unlike Ezran’s. Corvus stares at him a beat before glancing back behind him at the sunset that since whatever this is began, has deepened. It still has streaks of a pale yellow but the gold in it is more prevalent. He admires the bridge between early sunset and the last rays of sunlight when he suddenly hears a sound which doesn’t sound unlike someone slapping their forehead. 

Still, he takes a beat, hazel eyes aglow with the gold and smiles slightly. 

“It reminds me of you.” He says somewhat absently but finds himself not regretting his not quite a slip of the tongue. It is pretty and Soren is pretty. Friend or more he thinks - no, he knows - Soren deserves to be complimented.

Soren makes a noise that might just be a squawk. Corvus turns back around to face him, lip and brow quirked in amusement as Soren stammers.

“I- huh ? What?!”

With a deep heavy sigh, Corvus resigns himself to an explanation.

“Your hair.” The tracker gestures vaguely at Soren’s head who then touches it as if suddenly self conscious “It’s like a sunset. Gold.” Corvus then squints a bit as he looks at Soren’s hair, considering as he reassesses his statement.

“Goldish anyway.” He concedes with a shrug, “I associate it with you. Like sunshine.” He adds like an afterthought and instantly wonders why he just had to say that. Some thoughts could just stay in his head. They used to anyway, before he met Soren.

Soren smiles slightly at him, with something that could be fondness in his expression. “Sunshine, yeah?”

With a huff that sounds more like a fond sigh rather than any exasperation, Corvus resigns himself to an explanation. He just knows that he wouldn’t have ever offered this information freely before meeting Soren, let alone expanding on his thoughts to explain it.

“Okay, this is a bit silly, but you’re like sunshine to me but Gren is like sunlight - you know?”

Soren still has this unreadable look on his face and Corvus stammers to try and explain himself, “I mean it’s just how I see it it’s not a serious thing. I mean it’s probably a bit stupid, forget it.” Corvus laughs awkwardly and reminds himself this is why he keeps his mouth shut most of the time.

Suddenly, Soren’s voice is loud and frantic and- desperate ?

“No, no! That’s- yeah I get it! It’s also really sweet, not silly or stupid or whatever.”

Blinking, Corvus gives Soren a questioning look, willing the knight to explain himself .

With his hands waving about as he speaks, Soren continues, “It’s sweet that you look at something or see something and compare it like that. Very poetic.”

Corvus can’t help the way he flushes at this. Soren had once let the tracker read his poetry and Corvus thought it was really good. Sure, he could tell it wasn’t written by a professional or anything, but Soren’s heart really went into it and he had been practicing the craft for years. This dedication and practice was something Corvus admired in anyone, let alone Soren. For Soren to tell him that it was poetic - well, Corvus wasn’t going to take the words lightly.

“What's the difference between the two?” Soren asks suddenly “Sunlight and sunshine.” 

Corvus hums thoughtfully, “Well, I suppose sunshine is bright and brilliant and sunlight well I suppose more subdued - not that Gren is anymore quiet than you are.”

This makes Soren laugh, a loud bark of a laugh that in turn makes Corvus’ lips quirk up. Much to Corvus’ own surprise, he continues.

“But sunshine is … stronger. Braver. Unapologetic. And … all-encompassing.” Corvus suddenly realises that at some point during this conversation the two had drifted closer and closer so that now if Corvus took a slight step forward, their chests would bump together. And he doesn’t even know if he’s talking about sunshine or Soren anymore.

Suddenly, utterly unable to focus on anything other than Soren’s nearby warmth, he cranes his neck away to manage to make out an awkward few words.

“It’s, uhhh, the vibes, I guess?”

Soren lets out an incredulous laugh as he quotes Corvus’ words, “‘The vibes, you guess ? ’ ” 

“Shut up .” Corvus groans but the words lack any real heat behind them. Soren is still laughing and yet Corvus has no real desire to stop him. Even at his own expense, it’s quite the opposite.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Soren manages to make out, “That’s going in the Corvus Book of Quotes.”

Oh?

Corvus raises an eyebrow, curiosity lacing his words, “Alongside what?”

Soren responds without hesitation with a smirk that Corvus would call nothing but shit-eating.

“Excited and playable is my middle name.”

“I hate you.”

Soren whilst laughing manages to continue over Corvus’ embarrassed groans, “You then said ‘wait no that came out wrong’”

Corvus grumbles something that might just be ‘you’re ridiculous’ which has the Crownguard laughing even harder. 

“How the hell do you even remember that?” Corvus voice is slightly incredulous and Soren returns it by giving him a single look as if to say ‘Really ?’

“...Point taken.” Corvus concedes with a shrug and then sighs at the memory of that ‘quote’

“I should have never let you into the rehearsal.” He muses. He’d invited Soren to watch a rehearsal of the unofficial piano quintet of Katolis castle. It was composed of Corvus and four other members of the household staff who met a couple times a week to play their instruments together. Corvus really enjoyed it and frequently came back from rehearsal with funny stories and anecdotes that he told to Soren. But clearly, he did this enough (a lot) that it piqued Soren’s curiosity and Corvus then let him tag along to their next rehearsal. 

Let’s just say it was chaotic and maybe Corvus should have thought twice about it.

“I think Sophy is great!” Soren chimes in and Corvus shakes his head, exasperated. 

“See that's why I shouldn’t have let you guys meet.” Corvus almost shudders in memory of them, “Absolute menaces, the pair of you.”

“Yeah but I'm your favourite right?” Soren leans in towards Corvus, batting his eyes in an over exaggerated fashion.

Corvus raises his brow, smirking right back, “Favourite or menace?”

“I know it's both.” Soren says with an utter confidence that almost bowls over Corvus. 

And then he steps towards him. Soren presses himself in a single motion against Corvus’ chest - an action that utterly fries Corvus’ brain - and Soren raises a hand to twirl one of Corvus’ dreadlocks around his finger. Corvus’ hazel eyes follow this motion, unable to look away.

“See?” Soren murmurs lowly, and Corvus can’t breathe , “You didn’t deny it.”

All of a sudden, Soren pulls away, a smirk playing on his lips as if he knew exactly the effect that would have on Corvus who is left there, mouth slightly agape and floundering on the spot. 

That absolute fucking tease. 

Corvus takes a moment to try and calm his heart that is still racing in his chest. 

Soren steps back towards Corvus, poking in his side as a teasing jibe, “C’mon Corvus, stop trying to stall. It’s dance lesson time.”

“I am not!-” Corvus feels a little stunned to realise that, weirdly, he feels offended that Soren would ever think that, joke or not. 

Soren softens slightly and holds out his hand to Corvus - the sight yet again taking his breath away - “Let's go straight into it. No slow runs.”

“All in?” Corvus asks, smirking at him as he takes Soren’s hand.

“Always.” Soren replies, winking as he pulls Corvus towards him.

Corvus isn’t normally one to blow his own trumpet - some, including Soren, would say that he doesn’t do it enough - but even the tracker has to think that for being completely up to tempo after only a few lessons, he really hasn’t done too badly. 

Albeit, the footwork is still clumsy in places so Soren directs them to do slow practices of those sections. 

Corvus can’t decide if it’s a blessing or a curse when Soren decides to press himself behind Corvus, mimicking the movements in parallel to demonstrate. 

Sure, it allows Corvus to directly compare what he’s getting wrong and how to correct it and if this were any other moment he would feel incredibly appreciative of Soren teaching him in such a manner that distinctly suited how he learnt, but for now, with Soren’s warm, undeniably defined body pressed up against his back he can’t help but focus on how the touch burns . The pressure against him leaves him breathless in a way that should scare him more than it does.

Then, all of a sudden, Corvus is taken over by an almost uncharacteristic boldness. Corvus presses himself back against Soren, feeling the man’s chest hitch as his breath does and Corvus allows himself a little self satisfied smirk.

He’s certainly not the only one feeling the effects of their close proximity. 

Together, they go through the motions of minor corrections, Soren adjusting Corvus’ hold with hands that linger a little too long and it’s all going well but-

One problem. The dip. Not the first one, where Corvus twirls Soren into a quick dip before moving on. But the second, where Soren dips Corvus and the move is held, like a taut string. And Corvus knows what the problem is. It’s that it’s too held back, that he’s too held back. 

Corvus’ heart thumps in his chest, frustratingly not in time with an unheard beat as they draw closer to the dip. He steps forward in unison with Soren, then another and then steps onto his heel, twirl and then- 

Corvus’ body curves back and he surrenders himself to gravity and Soren’s touch. Soren’s hand curls around the small of Corvus’ back, holding him with ease yet every line in Corvus’ body is tense. He inhales, short and sharp as Soren, in a small yet purposeful motion, brings his face close to Corvus’. Their noses brush briefly and all the air is stolen from Corvus’ lungs. 

“Let go, Corvus” Soren's voice is low and it makes something tingle down Corvus’ spine, “What are you waiting for?”

“What are you holding back for?”

And Corvus does not have an answer for that. Unable to respond, he just stares back up at Soren with wide, stunned eyes.

Soren has flecks of green in his eyes. 

With a sigh, Soren simply helps him upright on to his feet and Corvus snaps to attention with the feeling that he’s disappointed Soren. Something might show on his face - or maybe Soren just knows him, or maybe Soren is just like this - because Soren gives him a gentle, kind smile and Corvus doesn’t feel so bad. 

Since when could that smile alone be his whole world?

Corvus clears his throat and adjusts his scarf - it isn’t lost on him that Soren’s eyes follow the motions of his hand, his gaze flickering to the column of Corvus' throat before snapping back his face. Corvus notices this and swallows thickly. When he speaks, he really has to force a lightness, a levity into his voice to act like none of that affected him.

“C’mon, we can go rescue Rayla from her lessons on Katolis trade history.”

“I don’t remember those lessons.”

“Says the guy who went to Opeli’s fiscal talks.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

They don’t discuss meeting for a lesson this time. Soren just opens the door at their unofficially arranged dance lesson time and Corvus is already there, doing some gentle stretches. And at this sight, Soren is struck with the realisation that no, they didn’t agree nor double check the time - but Corvus is there .

He’d always be there. 

Soren knows that he just has to say something but all he manages is: “Why, fancy seeing you here!” which he hopes sounds suave and cool and not as flustered and awkward as he feels. 

All Corvus does is smile gently at him and the sight strikes Soren with the sudden thought that this is just for him . That beautiful, kind smile is for Soren’s eyes only. His heart flutters in his chest and Soren decides to bask in that warmth for a moment. Plus, it hardly seems like Corvus is willing to move the lesson along, the tracker seemingly equally as content to - frankly - stare at Soren.

Not that Soren’s complaining though. He rather likes the feeling that Corvus is looking at no one but him and also equally as entranced by Soren as Soren is by Corvus.

And still, Soren really does like to dance with Corvus - more than anyone else he has to admit - so he quickly holds a hand out to the tracker. “Right so! Dance time?”

“As long as you don’t do ‘the floss’.” Corvus rolls his eyes, miming quotation marks with his fingers. 

“Excuse you! That’s the crème de la crème of dance moves.” Soren responds smugly, a hand resting on his hip.

“Ask Gren about dabbing.”

“Ask Gren about what .”

But Corvus has already stood up, absently brushing his trousers down whilst Soren stands there, his jaw hanging ajar. 

Soren makes a noise that’s essentially a squawk, “No, no, no , you can’t just drop that and walk away!”

But still, Corvus doesn’t say anything, simply looking at Soren with an expectant - intentionally blank - look. 

“Corvus!” Soren whines but he can’t hold the pout long enough before delving into laughter. Equally, Corvus can’t quite hold his neutral expression at this, his lips quirking up fondly. 

“Dance time, yeah?” The Crownguard says teasingly, quoting Soren who in turn rolls his eyes.

Soren huffs fondly, smirking at him, “You’re a man of mystery, Corvus.”

“You know it.” Corvus winks back and the gesture takes Soren aback enough that he lets out a loud bark of laughter.

Corvus takes Soren’s hand without a single moment of hesitation. 

And despite Soren taking Corvus into his arms being such a normal motion now, Corvus can’t help the way his heart pounds against his ribs but also feels so light, fluttering like a butterfly.

The palm of their hands press against each other and Corvus can feel twin callouses on Soren’s palm. The footwork is well practiced and the tracker is careful not to look down, instead keeping his eyes trained on Soren with an intensity he feels matched. The electricity between them crackles, their skin burning where they touch and the dance storms with the energy and passion between them.

They spin out of the opening section to being in hold; strong arms hold Corvus, supporting him unconditionally and sure, Corvus is well aware that Soren is incredibly strong, but the feeling of being held like something to be treasured is just so indescribable. 

Soren spins him around, the motion surprising him and pulls a giddy laugh from his throat. The room blurs around him and when he turns back, the world coming into focus, the first thing he sees is Soren. Facing each other, Soren has a stunned smile on his face - that Corvus has to admit - looks nothing but adoring. The smile instantly grows into something brilliant as they lock eyes.

The choreography isn’t quite second nature yet but Corvus doesn't have to concentrate as much as he had to do in the last few lessons. So, this means he can simply enjoy the dance itself, something he’s almost surprised to discover. 

As he and Soren move together, he notes - and thinks Soren has noticed it too - that their coordination is impeccable. Obviously on the battlefield, they don’t need to communicate with words, eternally aware of each other beyond any feelings between them, but in dancing, this carries on through, a dynamic born from what feels like a lifetime of fighting together. With each motion, the energy playing between them is strong, intense, playful but also loving and utterly filled with joy.

Suddenly, Corvus is aware that he can hear some gentle humming - a melodic tune that’s beautiful but on its own a little haunting, maybe even a little sad - and with a start, he realises that it is Soren humming. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this must be the music for the dance, especially when the dance steps fit the melody. 

Corvus can’t help himself. He joins in, adding some slight harmonies when he thinks it works, much to Soren’s delight.

And Corvus thinks this is all he’ll ever need in life. Entwined with Soren, their bodies pressed together, dancing together. Sharing a beautiful melody. It’s poetic and beautiful and Corvus’ heart has never felt so light.

With a twirl, their feet moving a complicated lattice of parallel footwork, Soren pulls Corvus to him, Soren’s chest pressing against Corvus’ back. They stay like this, swaying gently together, the choreography forgotten in favour of just simply being. The melodic humming tapers into no melody that Corvus recognises - now something new. Something of their composition. 

Each of their movements are in parallel, complimentary, some in sync but all done together. The feeling of Soren’s warmth ingrained on Corvus’ skin. A feeling Corvus would never want to forget for all of eternity.

“I’ve always wanted to dance in the rain.” Soren says dreamily, but then all of a sudden, the arms around Corvus stiffen slightly, as if he didn’t quite mean for it to slip out.

“I’ll pencil it in then.” Corvus murmurs back, squeezing the hands entwined with his own. He’s almost tempted to ask Callum to make it rain right this instant so he can do this for and with Soren.

Soren chuckles at this, the sound of it gentle, low and warm and Corvus basks in the feeling of the vibrations against his back.

In a swift motion, Soren drops Corvus into a small dip, who, to his credit, didn’t react except a slightly tighter grip on the Crownguard’s bicep. But then, it’s like the world stops. Only for a split second but it's enough to lose themselves in each other's eyes. Entranced. 

Corvus sees skies, storms and oceans with undercurrents of green and Soren sees the warmth of an unknown forest. 

They see each other.

And then the world speeds up as Soren pulls him back up, guiding the motion from the small of Corvus’ back. They’re close, sharing the same air, but Corvus still pushes back ever so slightly in the world’s most miniscule movement. A boldness that is only known to the pair of them.

Their faces are so close that Corvus can count Soren’s faint freckles, Soren can see just how jagged Corvus’ scar. And both are hyperaware of how their lips are almost touching, their eyes flickering to the other’s mouth.

But instead, Corvus presses his forehead to Soren’s. With a hitching inhale, Soren presses back and Corvus sighs happily, letting his eyes flutter shut. 

Their breaths puffs between them and all Corvus can hear, smell, feel is Soren .

“Backstep into the dip.” Soren whispers and Corvus nods.

In one fluid movement, Corvus lets his hand fall to the small of Soren’s back and Soren follows through, letting his back arch, held up by nothing but Corvus’ strength. And Corvus can’t help but lean into Soren, his smell intoxicating. 

They’re so close that Corvus can feel how Soren’s chest hitches, how those gorgeous blue eyes look up through his lashes. The sheer intensity in his gaze would make Corvus stumble at any other moment but not this one. Not when Soren is in his arms, trusting Corvus not only to not drop him but to hold him and to hold him dear . 

And yet, in this moment, Corvus can still hear the echoes of Soren’s words.

“Let go, Corvus.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“What are you holding back for?”