Work Text:
Silver always sung. It was as natural as breathing to him.
He would hum as he sewed up tears in trousers, sway as he put up the laundry, sing as he splashed through the nearby brook.
All manner of song passed through his lips. Soft lullabies to baby birds, jaunty tunes with his father as they cleaned, bright harmonies to wake himself up for the day.
His reflection called to him, singing and splashing in the river, voice joyously warm, smile on his lips. He'd pull at his skirt, at Sebek, make them dance until they were breathless and even then his song wouldn't peter out.
Sometimes he sang looking in the mirror, Sebek combing silver hair diligently, curling it and braiding it and decorating it. Sebek would scold him with the way Silver would sway as he sang, and he would still for a moment before inevitably beginning again.
He would sing gazing into Sebek's eyes, voice a gentle whisper and hands soft on Sebek's cheeks. Cradled in his lap, curtains closed and moonlight scarce, he'd gaze into the bright nocturnal glow of his green-gold eyes. He loved to admire him, the slit black void of his pupil and the honey grass of his iris. Sebek could always tell when Silver's gaze shifted to see his own reflection in his eyes when he started to sing.
Soft and airy, a breathless little love song, halting and gentle as he made lyrics up.
Silver would gaze at him, and Sebek would tuck his hair behind his ears, carefully avoiding looking at Silver's own eyes lest he squirm at its intensity. A soft blush already burned his cheeks from each sweet line falling from Silver's mouth, a song about him.
Silver's songs were always so sweet. Joyful, gay little melodies, about the bright sky and chirping birds and whatever else would come to mind in the moment. He could spin something sweet out of chopping vegetables and washing clothes.
Silver would often sing about him. Never directly - always in the third person, smile sparkling as he sung about his perfect prince or princess depending if he wanted to tease, his love and his light if he wanted him to flush.
Sebek could ignore it most of the time, pretend Silver was singing about someone other than him, otherwise his hands would tremble around the hairbrush and his legs would wobble in their dance.
He never seemed to build any resistance to Silver's songs, because Silver wasn't a poet. Silver wasn't like him, where flowery words came naturally. He was blunt and sincere, always to the point.
Silver was far from a poet - except from when he sang.
Each word from his lips was like a flower, petaled with intent, a story and warmth and secrets that weren't secret at all. They were heavy with affection, ever so obvious in meaning, and he'd smile at Sebek with his eyes that sparkle because he knew Sebek would catch every one of them.
My prince, he'd sing, my proud prince that made my heart beat again once more, one day I swear, I'll ask him to marry me.
And Sebek couldn't say yes, it was not the point to say yes, it was to keep his hands on Silver and spin him until he was dizzy and laughing and ask Silver if he promises.
My light, he'd sing, my bright light in the dark, would he keep shining for me?
And Sebek could not say yes, could only flutter his eyelashes and let them tickle the tips of Silver's fingers.
My love, he'd sing, you pull my hair too tight, and Sebek would flick his temple.
It was all Silver could do to sing, and it was all Sebek could do to listen.
When he gets them soaked in the cool water of the river, when he pulls his hair out of Sebek's hands for the nth time, when he murmurs pretty praise under Sebek's glowing eyes, Sebek will listen.
And one day, he might even sing back.