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"Someone is going to try and poison you."
Their forearms had barely met after the switching of partners occurred, and the fae prince's pleasant greeting smile drops to one of uncertainty.
Vil keeps his hand balled as their forearms stay crossed whilst they walk a half circle before having to get back in proper dance form. Hand to shoulder. Hand to back. Hand to hand. And still.
It isn't Vil's best opening line when it comes to greeting people he hasn't spoken with, but it might be one of the most important ones.
"Are you threatening me?" The prince's face scrunches once his thoughts have caught up, and Vil doesn't miss how their straight hand has clawed inward slightly, his nails poking into Vil's back.
If he tears Vil's suit, he actually might end up threatening them after all. That's authentic Sylvaris City fine wool.
"I'm warning you." Vil corrects. "Now stop looking distressed, people will try to listen in." Vil hisses quietly.
To his credit, the prince does settle his face into a more neutral one as the dance continues when the cello sets in again.
There's no time to give a grand explanation to when Vil overheard it whilst he was —without being allowed to— poking around in an herb garden off the side of the castle. He hadn't taken anything, but it wouldn't be in his favor anyway to tell a prince he was snooping around.
It would have been great if he got a glimpse at the woman and man having the incriminating hushed conversation on the other side of a large hedge, he could have turned this into a proper accusation.
Simply telling the guards would have gotten Vil dismissed before he could even attend the ball.
We do so love prejudice against humans.
Some humans aren't much better, honestly.
"I do not appreciate your jest." Stubborn fool.
"I am not jesting. Someone is going to try and poison you, I overheard it."
"I find it hard to believe coming from someone like you." From a human.
The words go unsaid but Vil understands them nonetheless.
"Would you trick me into paranoia to avoid all food and drink at my own party to make me appear a fool?"
"Not all food and—" Vil had known a lift was coming in this particular dance, he'd gone through it with his partner before the prince, but he might as well have tossed Vil up with the height at which they lift him and turn.
Vil almost trips over his heels from having to land from much higher than a courteous descent a partner ought to do.
"Jerk." He could not control keeping that thought non-verbal even if he had the mental space to try.
"Liar." The prince shoots back rather curtly. Fast enough that Vil doesn't have to worry they actually registered the weight of someone having insulted them.
Vil has about 20 more seconds to convince him.
"It won't be food. Too risky for collateral and too easy to detect." Vil decides to go the information route. There's no use going back and forth with reasons as to why he should be believed.
The prince can decide that outside of the precious last moments Vil has to inform them. They won't get a private conversation like this again tonight even if the prince were to attempt to speak with Vil again.
They'd have instant eyes and ears on the both of them. And Vil doesn't want to become a colateral piece of damage for ruining a grand scheme.
"Just avoid whatever you are handed that you did not fetch for yourself." The prince scoffs, and now he almost seems… humored in his disbelief. Like Vil's delusional. "Everyone here will and should be honored to hand me a drink, it will happen."
"Figure it out for yourself." Vil bites back. His hand leaves their shoulder so he can gesture outward with it, per part of the dance. That's almost switching time.
"You've quite the magical ability, don't you?" Vil asks when he returns from his outward motion and is back within earshot of the prince. "Evaporate it before you can swallow it. Or before it can even get to your lips if you can help it. Teleport the liquid away. Anything."
Those should be doable enough magical feats to go unnoticed. Vil is aware of a spell that can detect poison, but it isn't exactly a subtle use of magic.
With fae all around, it'd be like the prince putting a spotlight on himself every time he did it.
"You are overstepping your place, I ought to have you arrested."
Vil swallows momentarily —that's no small threat from the fae— and after one more turn, he takes a few steps back whilst one of their hands are still connected. As does every other dancer doing his role of the dance.
Vil dips down into curtsy before letting go of their hand. Time's up.
"Be my guest. But if you want to have the joy of actually seeing me behind metal bars: don't. drink. anything." Vil could not have made more stern and demanding (and thus also highly inappropriate) eye contact with the prince before they have to switch and his forearm meets his next partner after he sidesteps.
He doesn't look himself, but he catches the prince glancing their way before they have to continue. Vil prays to some kind of god beyond the heavens that the prince uses his brain.
Even if Vil were lying, there is no harm in pretending to drink things just to be careful.
"A pleasure to meet you." "Pleasure's all mine."
And so it goes on. The song does not go on long enough for Vil to have another round with the crown prince. He figured that out before they even started.
Through the applause for the dancing and music, Vil catches the prince giving a polite bow of the head to his last dance partner before swiftly walking somewhere with clear purpose in his step. The other people on the dance floor, including Vil, are still enjoying a moment of smalltalk.
The prince comes to a halt near one of the armored guards lining the room, a silver-headed boy that can't have been much younger than Vil.
Words are exchanged, and the guard next to the silver headed boy —a young man with slicked back light green hair— seems ready to fly into anger, but a simple hand held up by the prince stops him in his tracks. Back into a neutral guard position.
Vil can only hope he's taking his warnings seriously and is taking some precautionary measures. It's good for his guards to be outraged by the warning, they'll be more perceptive than before.
When the prince turns his head toward the dance floor and makes eye contact with Vil his lips move to say something. Vil can't read what they're saying, but the words clearly aren't meant for him.
The silver haired boy looks toward the dance floor, searching for something until he makes brief eye contact with Vil as well and then turns to his prince with a nod.
And then the guard definitely starts walking in Vil's direction.
"I must thank you for ending my dance on a high note." Looks like Vil is going to make an early exit. With haste. "I, however, need some fresh air. May we speak again later, I hope."
The flattery is enough for no questions to be asked, and Vil starts to weave through people to get toward one of the doors.
The guard boy has decided to make a loop around and not having to push through a crowd. That's smarter. Vil can probably still make it out way before he does.
He gets greeted by someone else, and he politely greets and nods his head back. Luckily for him, they also don't push his reasoning for clearly heading for an exit.
Once Vil passes the grand open door leading out of the ballroom and into the hallway, he picks up the pace even further.
The people inside are too busy to even have a reason to glance this way, but the two armored fae standing guard at the door seem mildly confused about Vil's hurry. They don't speak up or move to take action. Guests can be weird after all.
It's a short lived moment to get ahead when he hears them speak, and a quick turn of the head makes Vil spot their sudden surprise when the silver knight finally made his way out.
The knight doesn't spare them many words before he calls out something down the hallway. It's a short word, but Vil didn't catch up on it. A "Hey!" or a "You!" maybe.
Either way, it makes Vil turn his power walking into a sprint.
He's not the only one, judging by the clinking for armor.
It occurs to Vil that, maybe, he shouldn't be running from a palace guard. But truthfully escape isn't exactly his first goal here.
Vil reaches the glass door leading to a small garden courtyard he had noticed whilst entering with the other guests. There were two crows bickering about some kind of morsel.
He's quick to push down the handle —thank the seven it's open— and slip past.
That ought to do it.
He puffs out a breath of air after the effort of sprinting down a hall in heels, dropping to the closest stone carved bench along the path through the small walled in garden.
The glass door actually opens much sooner than Vil was expecting, he thought at least a few more seconds. Fast.
The silver haired knight practically slams it open, so he has space to dash through. He almost starts, probably being aware there's only one other exit point, but he skids to a halt when he catches Vil sitting there undoing the buttons of his suit jacket to get some more air.
He'd rather not start sweating for real.
"In a rush?" Vil asks whilst undoing another button. They seem hesitant to approach. Stunned, more likely.
"You stopped running." Their voice does sound surprised. But suspicious at the same time. It probably comes across as more threatening to not be continuing his run.
"Honestly," Vil starts, shaking the suit off his shoulders. "I really just didn't want to do this in the hallway. A single person catching but a glimpse of something going on will have the whole ballroom turn their heads like a starving swarm of cats at the smell of tuna."
"That's horrendous for my reputation." Vil folds the jacket over his lap, giving the knight a look up and down.
"I probably wouldn't have been able to outrun you for long anyway…"
"Malleus— Prince Malleus has informed me of your conversation."
Vil doesn't miss the implication they're on a first name basis with the prince. That could swing either way for how much trouble he might be in.
"Tell me he took it seriously. There's nothing you can tie to me, because there's nothing I did." Vil adamantly adds that last part. "So I'm not worried about being able to grind you guys into a legal pulp for wrongful imprisonment, but—"
Vil's half bluffing. They can argue he gave them probable cause.
"—Please tell me he did take it seriously."
Now it's the knight's time to observe Vil for a moment. They speak up again once they seem to have made a conclusion about something.
"He seemed too proud to admit it, but I think he is." Vil didn't realize the other boy was keeping his hand on the hilt of something until he relaxed his stance and let his arm rest to his side.
"That's awfully honest." Vil admits, with a raised eyebrow. The boy half-smiles. "My father says I am a great judge of character in situations like this. I don't think you are lying."
"Your father's a wise man, then."
"I am still going to have to—" The boy begins speaking and pauses. Their sudden awkward discomfort is adamant now. "Prince's orders and—"
"You're joking."
The boy thinks for a moment, before seemingly having gotten a Eureka moment. "Ah, I got it! Mal— The prince told me to make certain you could be questioned and kept away from the ball."
"He did warn me he'd have me arrested." Vil admits with a long, drawn out sigh.
"He did not say I should arrest you." The boy informs Vil, and his sigh turns into a quirked eyebrow. Knights finding loopholes in orders? A technicality loophole?
"I won't have to if you promise to stay put. You'll be away from the ball and able to be questioned afterward."
But it feels like that's teetering disobedience. They might get in trouble for this.
Well. Vil won't look a gift horse in the mouth.
"It is rather chilly out here to sit here for another few hours."
"Not here, follow me."
This is annoying. Highly annoying.
It would have been wonderful if it had all been a ruse. It would be just his luck that one of his first proper public ball attendances would be ruined by those with ill intentions.
Malleus simply hadn't expected those ill intentions would come in the form of a few drops in a drink.
Despite Malleus' initial certainty of his mysterious dance partner's lies, scepticism had gotten the better of him.
He had accepted yet not drank every single drink handed to him.
It would actually have been quite normal for him to refuse a few. There's only so much one can drink.
But the possibility of any of these truly being an attempt to harm him, he had to be certain he had all of them to test after the ball.
In fact, it's the first thing he did after. Sebek had kept watch over the samples Malleus procured as subtly as possible
And if all had gone according to plan, Sebek also should have kept a note of who handed him which drink, otherwise it'd be futile to even test at all.
They can't interrogate everyone according to his grandmother.
If it were up to Malleus, he'd leave no soul unquestioned, but that's bad manners. Allegedly.
But lo and behold, not one but two of the drinks contained something.
But magic can't identify exactly what the drinks were tampered with, so until further testing Malleus is unsure if this was an attempt of sabotage or one to endanger his life.
And if matters couldn't get worse: the possible suspects are in no way tied to his mysterious round-eared blonde warning.
"Malleus." Silver, Sebek and Lilia perk up when he comes striding down the hallway after his talk with his grandmother about the ordeal. She said she'd handle it.
In Malleus' opinion she seemed overly calm about the situation. Perhaps that's but one of the traits he has to master as well before he be crowned.
Once he gets close enough, Malleus can't help but notice that Lilia looks… strangely amused as he approaches. He's attempting not to smile.
"It wasn't him." Malleus speaks bluntly and keeps walking as he passes them, and they join him immediately. "The human I had you arrest, it wasn't him."
As if they needed the actual clarification of the accidental dramatics he caused.
Wrongly arresting a human. A human.
He'd rather his grandmother tackle that ordeal instead of the poisoning, but she insisted Malleus clean up his own messes.
"About… that…" Silver speaks but Malleus, not quite having heard, interrupts. "We are to release him from the—"
He comes to a halt, registering Silver's words. And when he looks to them to ask for clarification, they seem.. uncertain.
"What do you mean?"
"About the.. arresting part…" Malleus ears angle down in agitation at the implication he draws from Silver's words. "You let them go?!"
Silver immediately holds up both hands, startled at the sight of his anger. "No, no! I just… technically… didn't arrest them…"
Lilia is close to cackling.
"Didn't.. arrest them?" Malleus mutters the words to himself, trying to understand without needing it spelled out for them. Not let go? Not arrested, either?
"Silver… Where are they right now?"
And Lilia cackles.
Of all the places to end up in within Briar Valley, a guest room in the royal palace was not on Vil's list of possibilities. The very last possible place he'd ever expect to find himself in.
It wouldn't even have been on his bucket list. Not in his wildest dreams.
Getting an invitation was already a miracle, even if it wasn't a personal one.
He's. tapping his fingers in an erratic rhythm on the arm of the chair by the window he's been in for the past hour —just gazing outside— when there's a knock at the door.
And he has never left a chair this fast.
"Silver! Finally." He calls out whilst striding towards the door, his tone being somewhat more annoyed sounding than he meant. "Tell me you brought me water, it's been literal hour—"
When he opens up the door, he finds no face where he expected to find one, at his own eye-level. Instead, Vil has to slightly angle his head to properly meet the eyes of a fae prince.
Way to throw me under the bus, Silver. Secondary first impression ruined.
His momentarily surprise leaves him stunned, but he's long since mastered the art of quickly pulling himself back into neutrality. He recovers barely a second after.
"Well." Vil starts, glad to hear no trace of hesitation. "You're looking wonderfully unpoisoned."
Vil has already had the time to take in the prince's face up close, but it doesn't take familiarity of the same face to notice the strained expression.
Looks like he isn't quite sure what expression to wear and multiple ones are fighting over control of his facial features.
"I believe we have a conversation to be had." The prince is gritting his teeth under their attempt of a neutral expression. Vil can see the tension in their jaw and holds back trying to tell them to unclench it.
"I believe I have an apology to accept. Or deny. It'll depend." While his own arrogance in their previous conversation was mildly questionable, Vil feels like he's earned it for now.
"…Agreed. I shall send for some tea."
Vil retracts an earlier thought. Sitting in a royal palace sunroom having tea with Briar Valley's crown prince is the last place he'd expect to find himself in.
A guestroom is nothing compared to this situation.
The prince has been kind enough to share what happened, despite truthfully having no obligation to enlighten Vil on those matters.
Vil can only be glad he did. Curiosity would've killed him.
And the prince looks like he's about to explode of agitation. It worried Vil a bit, noticing they were annoyed.
But it became a lot less scary once it became clear none of it was directed toward Vil.
"It's a shame, though." Vil admits after a few moments of silence, attempting to break it rather lightheartedly. "I was enjoying the ball."
"You were?" Vil is somewhat surprised by the sudden enthusiasm, and it seems so is the prince when he fake-coughs and repeats himself in a more grounded manner. "You were?"
"Yes," Vil stirs through his tea, waiting for it to cool down a bit further.
"I'm certain I missed out on many a dance." He sighs with a sense of longing, but then simply chuckles.
"That is no problem at all, it'll be easy to arrange for the musicians to return."
Vil doesn't know if he should half-laugh or frown in displeasure. He's not sure if they're trying to be funny, or sarcastic or… genuine? Are they being genuine?
"You're being serious." Vil states. "Of course I am."
"I was trying to be humorous to lighten the conversation, your highness."
"Perhaps, but you've brought about a great point." The prince sets down his teacup with a determined clink. "To be certain you accept my apology, I will happily reimburse you for the dances you missed. Personally."
Vil shoots a glance to the smaller fae in the room, the one who's been observing with the most delight, as if to confirm if he's being messed with or not.
The fae presses his lips together in an attempt not to laugh, lifting his eyebrows and nodding.
He's being serious about this too.
"Is this appropriate?" Vil asks, and his eyebrows almost reach his hairline.
"Not any more than having you wrongly arrested." The prince says it in an almost offhand manner, as if it were no big deal.
"I didn't get arrested." "Having you almost wrongly arrested."
When Vil doesn't respond any further —because quite frankly he isn't sure how— the prince stands up from his seat at the small table. Vil takes another sip of his tea whilst watching them angle toward Vil.
"Please," The prince speaks up with hand extended this time, his lips quirked up in some kind of grinning smile which Vil is sure is him trying to come across as friendly.
He looks more mischievous than anything.
"I insist."
"..Hm." Vil hums in thought, observing the prince's extended hand before his eyes flit up to met the prince's gaze. "And you won't arrest me afterward?"
The prince's face drops. He barely contains a pout.
"You will not let that go." Malleus speaks as if it's something easily forgotten. Vil hasn't even accepted his apology yet.
"Absolutely not."
Vil looks at the prince's hand again with furrowed brows, "But…" He starts and lifts his gaze back up with a somewhat bemusedly exasperated expression.
"I fear you won't let this go either."
"Absolutely not."