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The sun's bright today, warm enough for them to forgo their jackets for button downs with rolled up sleeves and cotton dresses that dance at their ankles, but not hot enough to keep them cooped up indoors. Grass tickles Athanasia's feet as she stands barefoot in the garden, shoes thrown aside and abandoned by the gushing water fountain. And, beside her messily discarded heels, a jacket folded into a neat pile on the edge of the fountain - a jarring yet hilarious contrast. There's a light breeze that tousles her blonde locks out of the braids that Lily had oh so painstakingly twisted her hair into while Athanasia had nearly been vibrating with the need to run outside and feel the sun on her skin. She impatiently flicks it out of the way with a sharp jerk of her chin, already hearing Lily's exasperated "Princess!" when she finds her untidy appearance afterwards.
Whatever. That's a problem for later - she'll cross that bridge when she comes to it. Now, however, something more important awaits. Athanasia turns back to the boy in front of her, full of renewed determination. Eyes blazing and heart hammering in her throat as she bunches up bundles of her dress into her clenched fists.
"I like you!"
There's a rustle of leaves and flapping of wings as a flock of birds take off into the air, startled by her loud voice. Athanasia squeezes her eyes shut and ducks her head, chin touching her neck, where she can feel her pulse, quick and erratic. When the boy doesn't answer, she tentatively lifts her head and peeks at him with one eye, gauging his reaction.
"H-how is it?"
"Hm," the boy says, deep in thought. His hand is propping up his chin as he balances his weight on one foot, tapping the other. "Try again. Maybe a little softer."
"Okay!" Athanasia clears her throat, rearranges herself so that her hands are clasped by her chest and she's looking up at him, doe eyed and (hopefully) adorable. "I like you."
She's answered with a disapproving frown. "No, that doesn't quite sound right either..."
"Argh, I can't figure it out!" Athanasia cries out, finally at her limit. She whips around, arms paused in the air, resisting the urge to tear her hair out before she decides on the more logical and sensible option. Turns around and looks at the boy, eyes wide and pleading. "Ijekiel, what should I do?"
Ijekiel's expression is soft and fond as he looks at her. Athanasia catches a glimpse of something else, tucked away in the corner of his mouth, but it disappears before she can look closer, replaced by the gentle smile that she's familiar with. It calms her down, soothes her nerves that are going absolutely haywire beneath her skin.
"I think you're fine the way you are, my lady," he says with a tilt of his head. Examining her, but not scrutinising, searching for something in her expression like she had done to him earlier. Then, he nods to himself. Athanasia wonders what he was looking for. Before she can ask, however, Ijekiel speaks up again, voice quiet. "You don't have to force yourself to be something you're not, princess."
His words lifts a huge weight off Athanasia's shoulders, but she doesn't feel relieved at all. The hole that her anxiety left seem to be filled up with defeat, leaving her exhausted. She heaves a huge sigh and plops onto the ground. There's a pause where Ijekiel seems to hesitate, but he soon joins her, though he does so a lot more elegantly. Lowers himself to his feet and sits next to her without a sound. Silent falls between them as the gushing water fills in the lapse of their conversation.
"What's wrong?" Ijekiel probes. There's something about his presence and the way he speaks that just calms Athanasia down - she feels it now, too, her shoulders lowering and the knot in the back of her throat loosening. Feels herself opening up to him like she couldn't to anyone else.
"I'm worried," she admits, almost against her will. But it's like Ijekiel is pulling the words out of her, and soon she's rambling, rushing to get all her feelings out. "I mean, the ball is tomorrow and I'm still a mess. I have so much to say, but I don't know how. Do I tell him everything? Will he even listen? Should I just go for it? Would he think I'm too pushy?”
Ijekiel chuckles, unpreturbed by the sudden bombard of questions. He spreads out his arms on the grass and leans back, his fingers ghosting the hem of Athanasia's dress. "The palace magician doesn't strike me as the type of person who would care about the way you speak, princess."
"I know he isn't, but I can't help but feel nervous..." she sighs again, twiddling her thumbs in her lap.
There's a lapse in their conversation as Ijekiel seems to fall back into his thoughts. Athanasia's drifting away too, mind wandering with anxiety, when she hears his voice speak so quietly she almost misses it.
"What are you going to tell him?"
She turns around to look at Ijekiel, who's looking up at her, his expression unreadable. He avoids her eyes soon after, looking away from her. Hiding something from her.
"Well..." She looks at her feet, dirty and muddy from running around in the grass all morning. Wriggling her toes and twisting her ankles around in an attempt to buy more time before she answers. What would she say? There's so many things she wants to tell him, but they're all muddled and knotted in her head like a ball of string she can't seem to pull apart. Athanasia had tried to write a letter, but her quill had stopped after the words 'Dear Lucas,' forming a pool of ink on the paper until she gave up and tossed it into the bin. She wishes she knew how to unfurl her thoughts on her own like Ijekiel had done earlier.
Athanasia can feel his eyes on her, burning holes into her neck. Waiting for her to speak.
"Well," she says, trying again. "I’ll tell him that I like him, first of all. Then... I’ll thank him for always being there for me, I think. For helping me save Papa and protecting Obelia,” Athanasia's voice trails off, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the intensity of Ijekiel’s gaze. “And... Well...”
Ijekiel looks away. Athanasia isn't looking at him, but she can feel it. The weight of his gaze lifting off her. She sneaks a peek at his side profile - his silver hair flutters in the wind, obscuring his expression, making it difficult for her to figure out what he's thinking about.
She's about to ask him, when Ijekiel speaks up. "He'll understand."
Athanasia blinks. "What?"
"Your feelings. He'll understand without you putting it into words."
"You think so?" She looks at him, hopeful.
Ijekiel meets her eyes with a small smile. "I do."
It's funny, how relief just washes over her with only two words. She smiles, feeling better.
"I told you, you can just call him Lucas," Athanasia brings herself forward, tucking her knees into her chest. Ijekiel's face twists into an uncharacteristic frown.
"It's impolite to call someone I don't know by their name."
He looks like a child with his nose turned up high and his tone petulant. It's cute, Athanasia thinks, a smile rising to her lips. "I know you two don't like each other, but can't you make an exception for me?"
She watches the rise and fall of Ijekiel's adam's apple as he gulps. His lips slightly raised, forming the ghost of a pout. She's never seen him act so stubborn and childish before. And to think Lucas of all people would be the cause. Who would've expected that?
Ijekiel mumbles something under his breath. The fountain is too loud, and it drowns out his voice, but Athanasia sees his mouth forming the shape of Lucas's name before he fully turns away from her, sulking.
How cute.
She grins. Scooches closer until they're side by side, shoulders an inch apart from touching. "While we're at it, you don't have to be so formal with me, Ijekiel. We're friends, right? Call me Athanasia!"
Ijekiel instantly reddens, furiously shaking his head. "Princess, I can't do that!"
"Why not?" Athanasia whines.
"You're the princess!" Ijekiel nearly cries out. It's the closest she's seen him to yelling, and the loudest she's ever heard him raise his voice. Athanasia has never seen him so agitated - she feels a twinge of glee knowing that she's the cause.
"And you're Duke Alpheus!" She retorts. Ijekiel immediately clams his mouth shut, bringing a grin to Athanasia's lips that drops when his expression turns stubborn.
"All the more reason why I can't," he says. "Besides, the emperor..."
"Nobody will know if we don't tell." A grin spreads across her face, light bulb blinking over her head as an idea comes to mind. "You can just whisper it in my ear. Promise I'll keep it a secret."
"My lady, I-"
Suddenly, Athanasia grabs his hand and traps it in hers, pulling him close. “Say it with me, Ijekiel! A—tha—na—sia—!”
Ijekiel flushes red, suddenly feeling warm. His cravat is choking him, and his vest is too tight, and the princess’s hands are so, so small—
Ijekiel’s spinning train of thought is suddenly interrupted when Athanasia leans in, her nose nearly bumping into his. “Hello? Earth to Ijekiel! Anybody in there?”
“Princess!" Ijekiel yelps, jerking his head away. His hand is growing clammy, still sandwiched between hers. "You’re too close!”
“Again! It’s not princess, it's Athanasia! A—tha—na—sia!”
Ijekiel suddenly comes to the realisation that Athanasia isn’t going anywhere until he does what she says. He swallows a lump down his throat, willing his heart not to jump out his chest.
"A—Atha—”
“Go on! You’re doing great!”
“...Lady Athanasia."
Athanasia pouts, clearly unhappy. "That's not..." She shrugs, giving in. “Better than princess, I guess.”
Then, she sighs, dropping their hands, but not letting go of him.
“...Princess?”
“Do you think he’ll like me back?” Athanasia asks, shifting on her feet, face furrowed with overbrimming uneasiness. Her hand that’s holding Ijekiel’s beats a nervous pulse into his palm. His heart is racing just as fast for all the opposite reasons, and though he doesn’t want the princess to notice, he just can’t bring himself to pull his hand away from hers.
“Of course he will,” Ijekiel says.
And he means it.
Because Athanasia is like the sun, burning hot with determination and so bright that it hurts when you look too close. Dazzling and out of his reach. How would anyone not want to love someone as lovely as her?
At his words, Athanasia immediately brightens. She leans up on her tiptoes and before he could react, she plants a kiss on Ijekiel’s cheek, then pulls her hand away. His cheek burns hot where her lips touched his skin, but his hand feels empty without hers. Numbly, almost on instinct, Ijekiel reaches up and touches his cheek — it’s warm. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that he’s flushed red.
“Thank you, Ijekiel! I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!” She grins, so happy and carefree and beautiful, before she takes off in the direction of the castle.
His hand seems to have gained a mind of its own, reaching out towards Athanasia’s retreating figure as though to grab her, to turn her around and ask her to stay. To make her look at him, really look at him, even only once. To tell her that he—
Ijekiel forces his hands back to his sides. Shoves them into his pockets for good measure, too.
Where he is hesitant and unsure, Athanasia is confident and brave. That’s what he loves about the princess — her fearlessness, her ability to take action without a second thought. The way her golden hair glistens in the light. The way her eyes crinkle when she smiles. Everything, really.
And, as he watches her run into the palace, Ijekiel is reminded once again why he would never be able to stand by her side. Why he will always be trailing behind her, watching, yearning, waiting. But never having.
But if Athanasia is the sun, Ijekiel is more than happy to trail in her shadow, basking in her light. Athanasia is kind enough to remain as friends with him, and though it is a little selfish, Ijekiel will indulge in that kindness for as long as he can.
After all, to Ijekiel, it was more than enough to be near the princess, even if he can't hold her hand. Even if he always has to watch her back, running further and further away from him, Ijekiel will be content.
And so, Ijekiel turns around sharply on his heel and returns to his carriage. He has a ball to get ready for.