Brief note: Not bound by the canon timeline. A surprise update, ages later. Go me.

Forget Me Not

Chapter 2: Edward & MC.

Prompt:

I want to ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead.

He's not subtle. He tries his best not to be. The way he stares at her when she has her nose buried in her books speaks volumes: he hears whispers between the roses every so often of maids giggling and teasing him whenever they walk by, quiet because they don't wish to offend their prince, but not quiet enough for him not to hear them anyways. And he supposes the most humorous part is that he doesn't even mind. She's captivated him. Even the gardens he'd spent his entire life catering every moment of his open schedule to seems to have fallen into the background of his mind. He never thought he'd find something, or rather someone, that could make him forget what flowers sound like when they sing.

He only hears her voice, now-a-days.

"Prince Edward?" She looks up from the open pages, her eyes wide with shock, because he knows she'd somehow only just now realized he'd been staring at her so intently. It's a bit of a shame. She'd looked beautiful, so lost in her own head like that.

"Yes?" He plays oblivious, smile pulling at his lips as he offers not so much as a flinch at being caught in the act. He does feel a bit of embarrassment make its home in the pit of his stomach, but admiration far outweighs his pride. It's not that he isn't conscious of making a fool of himself, nor is he overflowing with unchecked confidence. Rather, the feeling of romance simply soothes him. She soothes him.

"Aren't you going to read?" She tries to hide her embarrassment by smiling back at him, but he's come to know her rather well. He can see the way her posture has tensed up and her fingers tighten their grips on the book. For his part, he'd forgotten he'd even been holding one and like clockwork, once she mentions it, he decides to close it and set his book aside. She starts and follows suit, quickly replacing her bookmark. He feels his chest swell when he notices it's one of the bookmarks he'd left in the books he'd returned to her after borrowing from her. She keeps them.

"Sorry. I seem to have gotten distracted." He doesn't look away from her when he says it. If anything, his smile softens, and his expression becomes more knowing, but he doesn't state the obvious. He sees her pale cheeks begin to darken in color and must bite his tongue to keep himself from calling her beautiful. "Are you enjoying your book?" He goes through great lengths to finally tear his attention away from her just long enough to pick up the long-neglected cup of rose tea by his side.

"What?" She blinks at him, owlishly, as if she'd forgotten she'd been reading at all. Then something seems to click, and she manages to look away from him, clearing her throat. "I mean, yes, greatly. It was nice of you to lend me one of your books."

Edward chuckles as he sets his cup back down. "It's only fair I offer you the same kindness you've shown me. Everything I've borrowed from you has been a lovely read." His hands now free of burden, he reaches up to take his glasses off. He'd forgotten he'd even had them on, but now without them, he waits for his vision to readjust and notices her own hands now rest on the table, fingers picking at her white gloves absently.

The way she dresses when invited to the castle versus the way she dresses when he stumbles upon her out in public fascinates him. She makes herself up as if she were going to a casual ball any time she knows she'll see him, but when he simply finds her, she's always in simple skirts and blouses with her hair messily tied up in lazy buns. Put together versus free. He thinks both versions of her are beautiful, but he wishes she would be more at ease around him. She's starting to be, he thinks. But it's not enough.

Without much thought, he reaches out to take one of her hands. If she noticed he'd been staring again, he's oblivious to it. In that moment, he simply feels the overwhelming desire to touch her and having her hand enveloped by his makes his heart swell. There are many who would say he's always been a romantic and, thus, is easily swayed by the idea of romance, but that's not the case. He squeezes her hand as if she were one of his delicate flowers and meets her shy gaze with the same calm smile as before. Romance is beautiful, but it'd never been his before. Not until he'd seen her that day in the rain. Plain, muddied dress, messy hair, broken umbrella and all.

"I'm happy you're enjoying them…" When she finally responds, her voice is barely above a murmur. He can tell she's flustered, but he doesn't mind, and judging by the way she doesn't pull her hand away from his after several seconds pass, he thinks she may not mind enough to put a stop to it, either.

He isn't subtle, but neither is she. Despite what most people may think with the difference in their status, he'd more than comfortable admitting he'd been captured by the throngs of love at first sight. It's why none of the whispers or teasing bother him. He'd know, before she'd even stepped foot into the ball. He's not sure if that feeling is mutual, but he's confident enough to believe that at the very least, it is now. He doubts her no more than he'd doubt himself.

"Hmm." Edward squints his eyes in thought, then brushes his thumb over the back of her hand. "How would you like to explore the rest of the gardens? Far be it from me to keep a lovely flower from her peers…" He pushes himself to stand before she can answer, but doesn't let go of her hand. Instead, he steps forward and waits patiently for her to follow. His smile wanes a bit. "Well, that's an excuse. Maybe I just want to hear your voice." Comfortable silence is far from undesirable, but if he has time to spend with her, he'd much rather hear her than just see her. It's surprisingly selfish of him to admit.

"Prince Edward…" She stares at him and it's only after he meets her gaze with a little bit of a pout that she finally backpedals. "Ed." She corrects herself, even though it clearly flusters her further. She's the only person he's ever directly asked to call him by that name and it makes his stomach feel as if its fluttering. He truly is a lost cause, something only further accentuated by how almost physically weak he feels seeing her stand up and straighten out her dress with her one free hand. It falls just below her knees, and much to his embarrassment, he finds himself absently thinking he could probably spend a lifetime trying to count how many freckles she has on her body.

He clears his throat, turning away from her before his blush can be noticed.

"I don't think I've shown you where we've planted our most recent roses… Modified roses, that is. When they bloom, they'll be a beautiful shade of blue." He starts walking with no need to pull her along: before he gets the chance, she's stumbled up to his side and settled into the same pace, hand-in-hand. He doesn't have to look at her this time to see her expression brighten. Blue is her favorite color. She'd told him that, during one of their first meetings when he'd simply wanted to get to know the basics about her: when that alone had been enough.

"I bet they'll be beautiful! Everything in this garden is so pretty, I really can't wait to see them when they're fully grown…" She speaks without thinking, evident in the way she trails off at the end of her statement and bites down on her lip. "I mean, if you'll allow me to…"

"Hmm…" He pauses their walk just long enough to raise his free hand up to grab her chin and gently force her to look his way. "If?" He bites back a laugh at her embarrassed expression. "Of course, you'll see them. I asked after blue roses in part because of you, after all. I would not deprive the flower that served as my inspiration."

She turns her head away from him, shifting her weight on her heels. He takes no offense to the gesture. He's come to adore how bashful she is, even though she often hides her face from him when she gets that way. "Oh… You're so sweet, Your Highness. Ed." She sounds breathless learning just the context and that alone is worth every second it took to convince his gardeners of their newest venture.

She gestures she's ready to move on and he heeds her request dutifully.

He drops his hand back to his side and resumes walking with her, oblivious to the glances of the passing staff in the garden as they hurry by them to tend to the multitude of roses. Some of them smile, whilst others remain neutral in respect to their prince: neither bother him. When his attention is on her, it's on little else. Something the rest of the kingdom had realized too, at some point. He'd never truly abandon Charles, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't someone just as, if not even more, important to him than even the kingdom, itself. Yes, he's indeed selfish. But even he must have his flaws and he considers himself fortunate that those around him must have accepted as much.

Walking together like this is a much slower trip than it normally would be. He stops every so often to point out some of his favorite flower breeds and sees her so moved by their beauty it almost makes him tear up as a result. To outsiders, they likely look bizarre, but the staff continues to leave them be, and neither of them notice anyways. The entirety of his life, he's been surrounded by the beauty and sentimentality of flowers and she seems to latch onto his emotions with greater empathy than he'd ever yearned for. She doesn't chide him on his fantastical metaphors, nor does she turn her nose up at him comparing her to every beautiful spectacle they pass in the gardens in the most lavish way possible: it's something she'd come to expect from him and only him, and despite how odd the other princes had always touted him to be, she found him as endearing as he found her mystical.

By time they reached the spot he'd set out to show her, the sun had gone a little further down in the sky from the fresh sunset they'd left it at, but neither paid any mind. The garden lights had preemptively come on to light their path in areas darker than others and the fountain they reached at the center of the archway they'd approached lit up the shaded areas fair enough.

The Levaincois gardens were no strangers to archways consumed by greenery and flowers: what made this one unique was the lack of those elements. He looked up at the white mesh of the structure that arched over the fountain area, not with impatience, but anticipation.

"One day, all of this will be covered in blue roses." He lifts his hand as if to demonstrate, though there's no need. She's already looking around her in wonder, thoughts racing with images of what it could be like, how these gardens could be any more beautiful than they already were.

"It's going to be amazing." She states the obvious anyways, a smile tugging at her lips as she moves to step over to the fountain's edge. He follows along, unwilling to give up her hand, regardless of how much time has passed. "Can I ask you something?"

Edward hums, surprised by the question, but intrigued. He looks away from the fountain and down at her by his side and, despite his usually calm demeanor, is surprised to see her already staring up at him. "Always." His voice is quieter than he'd like for it to be, a product of his being flustered. She must notice, because her smile suddenly seems more tender to him.

"Is it brazen of me to consider the two of us friends, Your Highness?" The way she asks it makes it clear that even she knows it's a ridiculous question on the surface. But there's something beneath the inquiry that makes her say it anyways, and knowing that, his expression becomes quite serious. The two of them may have moments where one or both of them are in their own world, but neither of them are so oblivious they aren't fully aware of what's happening between them. She is a very shy woman, but she's not daft. And he may be hard to read to the people around him, but not to her.

He seems to fall silent, lost in thought, for a moment longer before he turns to face her properly. She mirrors him, watching him expectantly. "Not, but…" He starts to speak, but trails off, glancing away from her eyes in favor of looking down at their hands. At some point, their fingers had become intertwined and he hadn't even noticed.

That truly is the basis of their relationship, he supposes. He'd seen her in the rain that day and fallen in love with her without even noticing. She'd started lending him books and he'd started desperately hanging on to rushed excuses just to see her for a few minutes every other day without even noticing. Somewhere along the line, or maybe from the start, he thinks she'd started returning his advances without him even really stopping to notice before he'd accepted it.

He squeezes her hand in his once again and raises his free hand to her face. His fingers touch her cheek, running along her jawline until he can shift and push loose hair behind her ear. As he does so, he leans down and he feels her own free hand reach up to gently grip his arm. It's not a gesture meant to stop him and so he doesn't.

He places a kiss to her forehead, but rather than immediately pull back, he brushes his lips across her skin until he can place another underneath her eye, now closed. As he does so, he finds himself digging up that thought again: about how long it would take him to count every freckle on her skin. It doesn't embarrass him this time. He places one more kiss dangerously close to the corner of her mouth, taking no mind to how hot her skin has gotten underneath his touch. He's not surprised when he pulls away, just enough to rest his forehead against hers, and sees that she's blushing again. The look in his eyes remains serious, but he can't help but smile seeing her like that, so close to him.

It is not the first time he has made his intent blatantly obvious, though it's certainly the most forward display he's made physically. It will not be the last.

Her eyes open and she looks up at him, meeting his gaze even though she looks weak enough he's afraid she may fall. With that in mind, he releases her hand from his and wraps his arm around her waist instead, his other remaining cupping her cheek. "We aren't friends." One could argue with the relationship he wanted with her, she could be considered his best friend: and that's a logic he would agree with. But for this conversation, for now, he wouldn't risk sending mixed messages. "You know what I'm saying, don't you?"

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth again as she nods and it takes every piece of self-control he possesses not to kiss her right then and there. He'd promised himself time and again that he would wait until the time was perfect for their first kiss: until they could scream their feelings to the rest of the world without any resistance. He would make this woman his princess, he would ask her for her hand in marriage, there was little room for doubt between them concerning that. It was a waiting game, a matter of time, but for once in his life, he feels impatient.

He wants to kiss her more than he's ever wanted for anything in the entirety of his life. He wants to taste rose tea on her lips and finally hold her so close there's nothing left for the two of them but to fall into each other. He wants every romantic, hopeless fantasy he's ever had to become reality, but he must restrain himself.

"Ed…" He wonders if the regret shows on his face as he stares at her lips, because before he can pull himself out of his own frustrated thoughts, he feels her shifting in his grasp to push up on her toes, arms reaching to wrap around his back and pull him into a tight embrace.

He's thankful she can't see his face, wide-eyed and shocked, as he feels her fingers dig into his back as she grabs onto his shirt. For a split second, he thinks his eyes begin to tear up with the rush of emotions he feels in his chest. As soon as he regains himself, he returns her embrace, holding onto her so tightly he almost lifts her off the ground entirely. He buries his face into her neck, noting that she smells like roses and thinking that may be enough to hold him over for now.

He loves her. He's loved her from the moment he set eyes on her and from every moment afterwards. She was never just going to be his friend, not the way fate had brought the two of them together. There's no doubt in his mind, as selfish as it is, he would do anything for her. He would abandon his title, his butler, his family, his kingdom. She deserved better than that and he would give it to her, he would make her his princess, but it doesn't change the fact that he would still do it.

"I…"

Those three words are on the tip of his tongue, but he bites down. She'll taste them when he's finally allowed to kiss her, and then she'll hear them.

He thinks she knows what it is he wishes he could say in that moment, though, because she embraces him even more tightly and he believes he catches a muffled me too muttered against his shoulder.