Chapter Text
He was hovering, again. Waiting almost impatiently to be noticed. Unintentionally standing just a bit too close, smiling a bit too wide…
Radahn didn’t seem to mind, though. And for that, Miquella was thankful. Radahn had always been kind to him. So kind it set Miquella’s chest aflutter and made his stomach flip. His magnanimous personality and the flash of teeth when he would smile or laugh; how the corners of his eyes would crinkle upwards when Miquella was finally able to catch his eye...
He was perfect. At least Miquella thought so. Malenia on the other hand, was glowering something fierce at the side of Radahn's skull, as if a stern look could drive him far, far away from the capital. He quirked a brow at her as they shared a glance, and her head swiveled away to focus on Ranni, mumbling polite if stilted conversation. Godwyn, for his part, had the decency to simply look amused at Miquella's fawning, and whispered something unheard to Radahn who shared a chuckle with him. The sight threatened to make Miquella jealous, but he shoved it aside when Radahn beckoned him closer, pulling out the chair beside him. He said something, too, but Miquella didn't hear, blood rushing through his ears with his nerves.
He all but climbed up into the seat, feet dangling above the ground as he tried feebly to scrape his toes against the cool masonry. He hoped Radahn didn't notice. In an effort to distract from the mildly embarrassing moment, Miquella smiled up at him, a blush staining his cheeks a miserable pink when Radahn leant forward and pinched at his cheek affectionately. Surely the look in his eyes meant something.
"Did you need something, Lord brother?" He tried to pass the question off casually, but the amused puff of air that escaped Radahn told him it came across as anything but.
"Nothing. Must I require a reason to spend time with my most favorite brother?" The words were warm and soft; quiet enough Miquella knew Malenia had not heard them: there was not nearly enough arguing at the table for that, but loud enough that Miquella knew he hadn't misheard (or misinterpreted) what Radahn had said. It only served to deepen his flush, the burning feeling reaching the tips of his ears, and all the way down to his chest. He only shook his head in response, scowling up at Radahn when his shoulders shook with silent laughter. Miquella opened his mouth, retort ready, but Radahn raised a hand to silence him. "Hush now, it was simply too easy to tease you. The look on your face was-" Radahn's eyes shot up to the space behind Miquella, before casting themselves downward to his lap, ignoring Miquella's questioning, and turning to face the supper table, picking at the roll that still sat before him.
Miquella saw the tall shadow of their interrupter, then. "Father," he offered, head bowed half reverently. "How was your evening?" Radagon passed him by with nary a word, eyes trained solely on Radahn. He stopped impossibly close, body notably blocking Radahn from seeing him. "Father?" He hardly spared a glance back at Miquella, eyes burning with some odd emotion Miquella couldn't place. It did render him silent, eyes trailing over to Malenia who still sat in quiet, respectful conversation with Ranni, though their eyes were now keenly trained on Radagon and Radahn, as were, it seemed, the eyes of everyone else.
"Rykard mentioned ye wouldst be venturing out tonight to see a show with ladies from a…’parlor hall’." The words dripped with venom, and Miquella found his stomach churning at the prospect. "I expect thee remember thine responsibilities. Fanciful entertainment is not among them. I hope the pair of you do not disappoint me any further." Radagon turned from Radahn and for the briefest of moments pinned Miquella with a soft expression: one Miquella had not seen in years. The one Radagon always gave him when an experimental treatment didn't work on Malenia. But before either of them could acknowledge it, the pitying glance was gone, and Radagon’s face was once again the picture of neutrality Miquella had begun to associate with him.
He spared Radahn another glance, gaze flicking over to Rykard with a frown. "You should be off then, no?" He side-stepped Miquella and sashayed almost gracefully out of the dining hall without another word.
As if on cue, Rykard slithered around the table and saddled up next to Radahn with a smirk. On his part, Radahn simply rose from his chair with as little fanfare as possible, though he had the awareness to cast an apologetic look down at Miquella, who hardly managed to take it with any grace at all.
Parlor hall...women...a show? After his last visit to the capital, Miquella had thought he could convince him to spend extra time together, just the pair of them. They could go for a ride outside the city—something he was hardly ever allowed to do. But with Radahn there, no one could claim he'd be in any danger. Or perhaps they would just sit in the gardens, quiet and peaceful, nothing to do but enjoy each other's company. Anything at all: if Radahn was there, Miquella would've accepted it.
But not this.