Chapter Text
Eyes the colour of honey. Will had thought it impossible exaggeration, as stories travelling from mouth to mouth would always sing of more than what reality had to offer - until they peeked at him, timid and swimming with fear.
Even before his mind had made the connection, Will's body had snapped into action, fists flying. Three men, two women. Will had seen easier fights, but he'd also soared through worse and came out breathing.
Besides, he was faster and more accustomed to the environment – the desert was his home, the sand a weapon often times underestimated. Obviously he couldn't knock out everyone, but the important thing was to get their captive away from them.
And once Will had cut his ropes and roughly dragged the terrified boy to his feet, they'd ran like hell.
Which had gotten them here, lungs burning but remotely safe. Just in case, Will had led the wheezing boy to a little well further away from his actual home. If anyone would find them, they sure as hell wouldn't get to raid what little Will had carved out for himself out here.
The boy with the honey-coloured eyes leant his head against the rough stone of the well like it was a mother's embrace, eyes fluttering shut and then back open. Zeroing in on where Will sat a little away, not so desperate for shadow as dawn was approaching.
“It's an honour, you know,” he muttered carefully, watching Will from beneath his lashes, wrist cradled against his chest where Will had roughly yanked him along whenever his steps had faltered during their flight. “To fend for me.”
Will spat into the sand, saliva and blood. The frustration of returning home without prey to show for his struggles and the pain of all the bruises Will had carried away from the fight were like dry firewood for his rage, kindled by those arrogant words. “Excuse me?” He wiped at his mouth, more habit than help. No doubt only smearing more blood and dust across his cheek.
The boy gave him a trembling little smile. “I am your prince. Your sacrifice is a great service to this country. No doubt you will be rewarded greatly if you -”
So it was true. Will barked a laugh with so much force he fell back on his ass into the sand, shaking his head as he continued to wrap the cleanest cloth he'd carried with him around the nastiest cut across his arm. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mumbled under his breath, but when he looked back up, the prince still looked as sincere and belittling as a person possibly could.
“I helped you 'cause I'm a fucking fool, Your Majesty.” He spat those words like an insult, blood boiling. Of course it would be Will's luck to risk his skin for a pampered little royal blathering on about honour and rewards. “I can't watch anyone helpless be trampled on, that's it.”
The two of them couldn't have been too far apart by age, if Will considered it. Both grown out of the round faces of boys, and not men quite yet. But Will was closer to being a man than this kid would be in a century – the prince looked nothing but pitiful and small where he sat, one slipper on his foot, fine silk of his robe tattered and dirty.
Cloth more fine than anything Will would ever touch with his own hands.
“B-but certainly you serve your country, don't you?” The prince rubbed over the red skin Will's grip had left behind, gaze dropping to his feet. “So no doubt you will -”
Will tightened the knot on his make-shift bandage, giving up on the rest of the bruises. Those would heal. “I serve nobody but myself. Don't assume you're the navel of the world, Your Majesty.”
Still rubbing at his wrist, the prince raised his chin. His brows – fair like dust, a little creepy – furrowed. “Then why did you save me!”
What an entitled child. “Why would anyone safe another?!” Will spat, already fed up with this entire situation. “I already told you. Not for a country or a reward or anything. Not even for you. Just for my own conscience.”
“Huh.” The prince drew in on himself, and Will almost felt the urge to tear his hand away from his wrist. This way, he'd only agitate it more, couldn't he see that? “You're strange,” the prince mumbled, brushing a light brown lock from his face.
It tore the last thread of Will's patience effortlessly. “I'm strange?!” His voice exploded with enough force to cause the prince to flinch and scramble backwards, to the edge of the blessed shadow of the well.
Don't pick a fight, don't do it, you're better than this. Will held his breath and tried to count to keep his temper in check.
He broke after three. “You're the one arrogant enough to think that I should be grateful to be bruised up in a fight for your sake! You didn't even thank me! You probably think I should thank you for this huge honour. Do you consider myself so below you that I'm not worth your empathy or are you simply a stone-hearted prick incapable of it in the first place?!” And someone like that would rule this country someday! Not that it mattered which power hungry bastard would trample over an entire nation to uphold their own luxurious life next.
Rulers were all the same at the end of the day.
The eyes of the prince were wide with shock, which at least brought Will a little satisfaction.
“I -” the pampered little royal began, clearly at a loss what to follow that sentence up with.
“Sorry,” Will supplied. “You're sorry, is that it? Or how about a thank you?” The fire already left his veins, and Will sighed, digging in his pocket for a strip of sandy dried meat to chew on.
God damn hunger.
“Thank you I'm sorry,” the prince blurted, and when Will pushed himself to his feet to dig in his pocket more effectively, the boy flung both arms above his head like he was trying to protect himself from danger, hissing his words so fast they sounded like one. “Pleasedon'thurtme.”
That sentence cleared Will's mind like a gust of wind, and he blinked down at the curled up bundle beneath him, the very image of trembling misery. At last, Will saw the prince before him – the soft soles of his feet, littered with cuts and burns. The angry bruise on his cheek with a cut from a ring to match, patches of his skin burned by the sun where he hadn't been covered by the bandits. Even the echo of Will's grip on his wrist.
The voice, the eyes, the posture of the prince spoke nothing but terror.
Food forgotten, Will sunk to his knees, raising his hands slowly with his palms open. “I'm not going to hurt you.” As he said it, Will felt guilt curl inside him at the way he had lost it. Who was he? Some kind of criminal?
Well, technically, yeah. And still Will had always clung to his own morals and humanity, a stubborn belief that kindness did not exist in this world unless extended by him. He prided himself in his empathy, and yet his anger had blinded him too much to realise the prince had been trying to give Will an incentive not to kill the poor fool.
“Please forgive me for my short fuse.” Will put his hands together in something like a plea – a gesture he did not feel with all his heart, but hoped would take a little of the fear from the prince. “And for the way I dragged you away and hurt your wrist. It was necessary to get away and survive. But I will never harm you again.”
The Prince sat up straighter, posture and chin held rigid with perfection where his voice rang waveringly thin. “Apology accepted.”
At least he had some guts, and Will had to begrudgingly admit that pampered did not equal naïve – the prince's eyes were still guarded, on edge.
That'd make survival a lot easier.
With a little sigh, Will began digging in his inner pocket – right above his heart, where he stored his most important belongings. It couldn't be helped, even if he had hoped to keep the last of his tincture for a true emergency.
“What are you doing?” the prince asked warily.
Will's fingers closed around the small tin can, and he showed its rough surface to the rigid prince. “Just fetching something to ease your pain.”
The tincture was wasted on simple cuts and bruises, but for someone who had known neither fear for his life or much pain, it was certainly worth the eased sting.
Will bit down on his lip. Had it truly been just hunger making him so angry? Or had he loathed this prince for nothing other than the fact that he had suffered less than Will? How vile.
Who was he to hate someone for knowing less pain?
“If you trust me enough with this, I'll take care of your wounds.”
The prince wrinkled his nose, even when Will could see temptation in his eyes. “You have way more bruises than me.”
Will made a throwaway gesture. “I'm used to them. But you're not, are you? Let me help.”
The prince bit his lip, but raising his chin and no doubt gathering his last fractions of bravery, the prince nodded with the air of granting an audience.
If this was supposed to work, he'd have to get used to be treated like a person rather than royalty. But for now, Will took it in stride.
Very carefully, every bruise aching, Will knelt before the prince. “Look,” he began, never one to be particularly good with words he had to think about, but trudging on. “I didn't save you because you're royalty or for some twisted honour. I did it 'cause I wanna fall asleep at night knowing I did the right thing.”
At that, the prince scoffed. “You recognised me by my eyes. You knew the second you saw me. I'm not stupid enough to believe in your good will. Everyone is after rewards. Don't pretend you'd help me if my parents couldn't pay you.” Something tight and coiled simmered in his words, but was neither Will's place nor interest to pry.
“Then feel at ease thanks to that,” Will replied simply, unscrewing the small can in his hand. He dipped his thumb into the tincture, shuddering a little at its scent. It reminded him of make-shift stitches, sleepless nights and pain. “Where are you hurting the worst?”
A shadow flickered over the prince's face. He sounded unbearably tired when he replied: “Everywhere.”
Will nodded, settling to take the sting away from the cut on the prince's cheek. Slowly, he raised his hand – causing the the boy's eyes to widen in terror at the unspoken question to touch his face.
An exercise of trust, truly.
When the prince did not protest, Will carefully ran his thumb with the soothing tincture across the cut, the unexpected intimacy of the gesture causing him to lower his voice involuntarily. “My point earlier was,” he began, feeling like his breath was caught in his throat. The eyes of the prince were close, and fixated on him. It put Will on edge. “Don't expect me to treat you like royalty out here.”
“I am royalty,” the prince muttered in defiance, voice a little airy.
A small grin tugged at Will's lips. At least the guy had some spirit, huh? “You're neither above or beyond me out here, Prince. We bleed the same. We heal the same. Our hearts beat the same. Do you understand?”
He lifted his thumb from the prince's cheek, tips of his fingers still resting at the edge of his jaw, a featherlight touch.
The prince exhaled and reached up - Will was certain his own hand would be slapped away, but found an embarrassing little gasp escaping him when instead, the prince pressed his palm against his chest, clumsy fingertips right above Will's heartbeat.
A sense of wonder washed over the prince's features, like he had never been close enough to a person before to feel the thunder of their heartbeat beneath his hand. Truth to be told, it had been a while since Will had been this close to anyone, either.
What lives they led.
“My name is Will,” he muttered, dropping his hand from the face of the prince, who followed suit reluctantly, his touch lingering a second too long to be polite.
“Konstantinos,” he replied curtly, and for a second, Will only blinked at him before laughter burst from his lips. He slapped his hands over his mouth, but the noise kept spilling, causing him to double over.
“Oh, come on,” Konstantinos muttered. “I don't particularly like it either, but that's just rude.”
“Sorry,” Will wheezed, not missing the red tips of the prince's ears. Heh. “I'm way too lazy for so many letters mashed together. How about Kon? Or …” He looked at the tin can in his hand, grinning wider. “Tin! That's in your name.”
“That's not how you pronounce it,” Tin protested, hands waving as he spoke, fluttering like excited little hummingbirds.
“That's how I pronounce it.” The way Tin's nose scrunched up made Will throw his head back with laughter. But without further protest, the prince seemed to accept his fate. Maybe he had realised protest was futile.
Will slipped the tincture back into his pocket with a feeling of satisfaction. “So, Tin,” he said cheerfully, causing the prince to bury his face in his hands and groan. “Let's get you back to the palace, alright?”
Sobering now, Tin nodded with a storm in his eyes. “You'll help me?”
“Yes.” A simple word, with so much weight. Even though Will had long made certain not to own anything worthy of losing beyond the things he could carry on his body, leaving his home behind seemed terrifying and novel. Exciting all the same.
Tin surprised him by bowing his head. “You have my utmost thanks,” he said, oddly humble despite his formal words.
“Thank me once you're back in one piece.” Will got to his feet, patting the sand off his tunic even though he'd probably still find sand in his clothes a year after leaving the desert behind. Again – more habit than help. “Come on, Tin. You must be hungry.”
“Starving,” the prince croaked, struggling to his feet with remarkable determination.
Will almost offered to support him, but kept quiet at the set of Tin's jaw and instead told him: “I don't know about you, but I get really grumpy when I'm hungry.”
Tin huffed as he limped along. “I noticed.”
It made Will bark another laugh. Honestly, when had he last laughed this freely and easily? Even with bandits lurking and the long way ahead of them, this may not be too bad. The air tasted like adventure and promise.
And maybe Will felt a little drunk on it. At least he couldn't explained his words otherwise. “When I saw you, I honestly didn't realise you were the prince, even though everyone knows your eyes make you unmistakable.”
Tin shot him a sharp glance, and Will didn't even know how he gathered enough courage to finish that thought.
“I just thought your eyes were beautiful.”
With an odd noise, Tin tripped over his own feet and Will took his chance to walk ahead briskly and leave the prince to catch up with him.