Chapter Six

I Won't Say

It was the horses who saw the danger of what the two princes were about to do. They were each other's true love – it may not have been obvious to the stupid, exasperating humans, but it was clear to the stallions. But Alfred couldn't kiss his true love or something terrible would happen!

Wistful reared up on his hind legs in distress and neighed loudly; Hero raced over to the fire, head butting Alfred and pushing him off the log and away from Arthur.

The two princes were suddenly brought back to reality, away from each other's lips – and a wave of embarrassment washed over them.

"W-W-Wistful! What's wrong, old boy?" asked Arthur, hurrying over to his stallion – more to get away from Alfred the suddenly awkward atmosphere than anything else.

Alfred, meanwhile, patted Hero's nose absent-mindedly, staring dazed, and rather forlornly, into the fire.

Eventually, he remembered the bubbling soup and started ladling it out.

"Arthur…grubs up."

"Thanks…"

Their fingers touched as Alfred passed over the other's bowl of soup and their eyes met for a moment. And suddenly Alfred didn't care how awkward it was, he just had to say something.

"I…I'm sorry, Artie. I wasn't thinking," said Alfred, trying to apologise for having to put an abrupt to the moment because of the curse. "It's not that I don't – "

"It's quite alright," Arthur said quickly, trying to apologise for the near kiss happening at all. The prince planted himself on the log and shovelling the soup into his mouth – obviously ready to get to bed as soon as possible. "It was just a mistake – no need to go on about it."

"Yeah. It's probably best if we don't…continue – what with the curse and all."

Arthur flailed spectacularly, his spoon somersaulting in the air and his hands grabbing at it uselessly before it clattered into his bowl, splashing soup all over his night clothes.

Alfred watched in confusion until he saw Arthur's bright red face, and realised what he'd just implied. "Not that I think you're my true love or anything!" he exclaimed hurriedly. "You know! It's just…kissing…I don't know what would happen…with anyone…And it's not like I even want to kiss you anyway!" Alfred mentally slapped himself for being such a pre-teen about this…

"Of course. Naturally. We were just being silly," Arthur said briskly, patting the soup on his clothes.

'Being silly.'

Possibly the lamest excuse they could have come up with for nearly kissing. But in reality, there was no excuse but the truth – the fact that they wanted to do it.

And Alfred would take a lame excuse over none at all. (Or, worse, the truth.)

"Right…Silly…"

Arthur sighed in exasperation at his stained coat – his frantic rubbing only having made it worse. "Ugh. And this is my only clean top."

"Do you want something of mine to wear?"

They both froze at Alfred's bold suggestion.

"…All right."

The clothes were taken out of Alfred's bag and passed over in grave silence, like it was some grand, formal ceremony. Arthur went to the pond to change, and Alfred tidied up the food, stoking the fire to make it last the whole night through.

He heard a snap of twig behind and turned instinctively.

And there was Arthur, stepping into the warm glow of the firelight, wearing Alfred's tunic. It was loose and comfortable on Alfred, and so practically swamped the lithe, slender Englishman. The sleeves fell below his hands, and Arthur was fiddling with them, trying to fold them back. The hem reached tantalisingly around Arthur's upper legs and even though he was wearing some baggy trousers, Alfred still found himself gulping.

Arthur looked up, and must have been surprised and embarrassed at the expression on Alfred's staring face – Alfred didn't even want to think about what emotion must be written all over him – and looked away, flushed.

"Arthur."

Arthur froze on his way to his blankets, but didn't meet Alfred's gaze.

"I…When we find the princess, I want you to make your wish. It doesn't matter about me."

Arthur frowned in confusion, and finally looked over at the American prince, who was gazing earnestly at him from his place on the log by the fire.

Arthur sighed sadly and went to sit next to him, but kept enough distance that they wouldn't have any "silly" mistakes, like earlier.

"What are you on about, Alfred?"

"Your wish is more important than mine."

"I – " Arthur began, but Alfred clapped a hand over his mouth and continued.

"My curse doesn't affect me every day, but yours does. And you've been suffering way longer than I have. I got my curse when I was 16 and I didn't care about kissing anyone until I met – uh, I mean, you know, until I got a bit older," he recovered, pathetically. "And even now, I don't really care that bad. But you've been living with this since you were born. It's not fair."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "And some hormonal, jealous teenage girl putting a curse on you – that's fair is it?"

"Well, no, but – "

"Everything I've heard tells me this princess only gives one wish," Arthur lectured. "And I've heard many things about how to get it, and I know you have, too – true love, marriage, and whatnot. But the story about her only granting a selfless wish – that's the most popular rumour. And if that's the case, it can only be you, Alfred. My wish is utterly selfish, but you…you're trying to right a wrong that was completely unjust."

"And you trying to get your family to accept you isn't a good enough wish?" Alfred retorted, so fierce that Arthur leaned away. "I don't care if this princess does only want to grant a selfless wish – it's not fair that your family ignore you, either! I don't care if your wish only helps you, you deserve it! I'll make her give you your wish!"

"Alfred – "

"Besides, my wish has already been granted."

Arthur blinked, taken aback. "W-what?"

Alfred took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down so he might, for once, be able to explain how he felt. "I may not be able to have true love's kiss; that curse is still there.

"But my whole life…trapped in one place, watching the best days of my youth waste away before me, forced to do boring tasks over and over until I can walk properly like a prince and use the right knives and forks at dinner with stuck-up rich people…If you ask me, that was the curse. All I ever wanted was to get out and go on a quest and meet someone special. And as far as I'm concerned…I've done that."

Arthur took a few quick breaths in time with his fluttering heart. He knew Alfred didn't exactly mean "someone special" in a true love kind of way – but it still meant a lot that he considered Arthur so important to him after such a short time. If Arthur were honest – and he was finally starting to be truthful to himself in his own mind – he felt the same about Alfred.

"Why don't we just see when we get there?" the English prince said, diplomatically – refusing to argue about it now, and fully intending to bully Alfred into making the wish for himself. "Why don't we let the princess decide, hm? We should make it to her tower tomorrow. We just make a right at that fork in the road we saw before setting up camp, and then straight on from there."

Alfred pouted, not satisfied that he had convinced Arthur at all. He knew the English prince would put a fight on this issue until the very end.

Which is why, as soon as he heard deep, even breathing coming from the sleeping figure nearby, Alfred got up and changed in silence, crept over to Hero, and stole away into the night towards the princess' tower.