Work Text:
Corbin glanced at the Prince out of the corner of his eye.
He was studying the pages with great concentration, brows furrowed and fingertips resting on the wooden surface. His cheeks were tinted with rose, no doubt due to the prickly cold the wind carried into the room.
A tuft of hair fell over his eyes, blocking his vision. Corbin reached out to brush it away, but his hand froze in the air when realisation met him. He dropped his palm onto the table, in the space between them. So close.
The Prince clicked his tongue, as he stared at a particular section of the book, almost furious, as if it was the ink’s fault he could understand an ancient foreign language. Corbin tried to hide his smile, but failed.
“Why are you smiling?” His companion teased, pretending to slap his arm. “Do you find my perplexity amusing? You should be helping your guest, but instead, you’ve only been sitting here in absolute silence.”
“I can’t understand Delphirh either, Your Highness. I won’t be of any use to you in this matter.”
“Zico,” The Prince murmured. “Call me Zico. I've also been addressing you informally, you needn’t keep up with the formalities. I consider you a friend, My Prince. I would only expect that feeling to be mutual. ”
Corbin blinked.
My Prince? It was the simplest way of addressing a Prince, but there was softness in the way it was said. He couldn't place a finger on it, but it confused him.
“Zico,” he all but whispered. The word felt strange on his lips, but sweet all the same. He couldn’t place why in God’s name his face was warmer all of a sudden, or why his heart beat loud between the two of them.
The Prince— No, Zico, smiled at him. Corbin wondered if he had imagined the intimacy of this situation. He had known that the Royalty was sensitive about first names, but this was different in its entirety. A friend.
Can I be something else instead? The question swelled on the tip of his tongue. Was it Elion, or was it Corbin thinking that? He had an answer in mind, but it was soon. Too soon.
I’m not here as Corbin. I’m presenting as Elion. I have no right.
He had to deflect, look away from those warm eyes before his thoughts drifted.
“I offered you our best scholars,” he said. “You refused their involvement. I have no other means of assisting you. Very few people in Dierlyn are able to read Delphirh, let alone understand it.”
Zico sighed. “I appreciated that offer, but do you realise how dangerous it would be to involve a third party? Information could get out, and reach Thefia in only a matter of days. I— no, we cannot afford that possibility. It is a shame, though, isn’t it? If only a trusted individual was fluent in Delphirh.”
Corbin thought of Maria, pouring over their father’s texts through days and nights. He could suggest it, but he was unsure of how he would present their relationship. Elion, as far as he was informed in their last meeting, knew of no one with such knowledge.
He hesitated before saying, “I will ask some of my… people to look into the matter, see if we can find a best-suited person. Felix might have useful connections, too. But it would take time, since the grounds are not official.”
It was a lie. He already knew Maria would agree in an instant. The task at hand was the kind she would jump at, brimming with excitement. Then there was Elion. Corbin was unsure of how he would begin their conversation. He knew he was overstepping his boundaries by involving Maria, but there was truly no one else more appropriate for their work.
Zico was attempting to uncover something untouched, as far as he was aware. Corbin had an inkling that Elion was intrigued by his kingdom’s supposed secret, but would he go as far as investigating against his Father?
He decided that these would be worries for later, because Zico looked up at him, eyes brightening and breaking out into a smile. “Yes, that would be great. I do believe we have time, at least until the upcoming full moon, for that will be when I talk to my sister about—”
The rest of his words made little sense to Corbin, so he rested his attention on the way the Prince’s eyes sparkled and how he made expressive hand gestures for every sentence he spoke. It was… Endearing, his enthusiasm for a matter that could lead them both into the dungeons if someone found out.
“---speaking of that, when my siblings leave for the Isles, I plan on returning with them. You should accompany me.”
Corbin blinked at the sudden invitation. “Why?”
Zico gave him a strange look, close to mild disappointment, but there was still amusement in his gesture as he reached out and placed his hand on Corbin’s sleeve. “It seems you have forgotten that we are betrothed. Since we are to be husbands, we should keep up appearances for our families and kingdoms. In addition, it would be useful if you are present when the council discusses my future in the Court.”
Corbin struggled to form thoughts, not when they were so close, not with Zico touching his arm and speaking about how they were to be husbands. Well, Elion and Zico were. Right. He should stop losing track of himself and remind himself that Zico did not see him as Corbin, but as Elion.
He tried to picture them together, his stomach knotting itself at the image. That is when realisation striked him. This…. Whatever it was, it had to stop, before he got ahead of himself. He knew it would be a painful end if he kept going in this manner.
There was a snap of fingers in front of his eyes, drawing him out of his thoughts. “I keep losing you in the middle of our conversation,” Zico said. “Are you alright? You seemed distant for a moment.”
Corbin shook his head, almost too harshly. “I’m alright. I understand your reasoning and I do not mind accompanying you to the Isles. What else do you have in mind for our appearances? How should I present in front of your family? Do we arrange for separate carriages? Am I allowed—”
He was interrupted by a soft laugh. “I find your sincerity admirable, it’s true, but we have more than half a fortnight till then. You should worry about these details later. For now, let us focus on one matter at a time.”
“Of course,” Corbin nodded. He had not noticed when Zico had withdrawn his hand. He found himself missing the warmth, but it was concerning as to why he found such great comfort in the touch. “I’ll ask Felix to meet me today itself. I shall let you know what comes out of my efforts.”
“I’ll be waiting, Your Highness,” Zico replied, the words lingering like a promise. The title sounded anything but formal, laced with amusement and affection. Mirth danced in his eyes, lips lifting upwards, as if he had already known the reaction he would be given.
Corbin blinked, realising that no form of training had prepared him for situations like these - where he was being looked at in the way Zico looked at him. It had been two words, still he felt heat rising to his ears.
“Of course,” he managed at last, struggling to maintain eye contact. With an awkward bow, he said, “I’ll…uh…I'll take my leave.”
As he walked back to the door, he could feel the Prince’s eyes on his back. His fingers tightened around the handle for a brief moment. He forced him to step outside into the cold corridor, though everything in him wanted to stay in Zico’s presence, his warmth.
“My Prince” and “Your Highness” echoed in his mind. He raised his hand to his arm, where a ghost of a touch still lingered.