Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I,” Prince bit his lip, staring at but not really seeing his fidgeting hands in his lap. “I don’t like lying to them, you know?” His voice broke as he turned to gauge Wicked’s reaction.

Feng Lan had matured into a proud woman whose back he would follow with full confidence. But Prince’s voice was so small. The sorrow spilling out of Prince’s face crumpled his spirit and made it meek and fearful.

Wicked caught himself, clenching his fist out of Prince’s sight and closing his mouth. He was a pin short of bursting with answers, but Prince needed better than platitudes. He rotated his other hand, palm up – offering it to Prince.

Prince accepted, sliding his chill fingers against Wicked’s and clasping it gently atop his thigh.

Wicked watched the trees opposite, the millions of leaves swaying along to the wind’s slow pull. Time was sedate around the clearing so there was no excuse for rushing this.

“I think you’re more honest than you realise.”

He faced Prince’s wet, staring eyes with a smile.

“You don’t act like anyone but yourself. You in here and the you out there – they’re the same person. It’s only the looks that are different. And . . .”

“And?”

“That’s true for me too.” Wicked grinned.

Prince’s eyes sparked, blazing with fresh flames.

“And your friends, right? Odd Squad is the same, aren’t they?”

Prince elbowed him in the ribs, which didn’t stop Wicked from cackling. “You’re just being smug now. Are you proud of yourself? Are you content?”

Wicked’s mouth stretched wider, cattish and amused by Prince’s plight. “Very.” Especially since Prince hadn’t released his hand.

“Do you understand me?”

Prince’s eyelashes – long, blonde feathers – batted against his cream skin. Dimples dented his cheeks as he smiled. “Yeah. I get it now.”

“Good.”

“Thanks, Wicked.”

“No need.” Really. Prince gazing at the trees ahead of them, fingers still tangled in Wicked’s and smile newly affixed to his face. That was all the reward he needed.