The frog deflates and crouches low against the dresser, ready to pounce like an animal of prey. “I'd prefer the other option,” it says slowly, glancing at Malik's empty hands with obvious suspicion.
“And if I refuse to help you?”
“I'd have to go to Acre – the next closest kingdom with an available member of the a royal family,” it answers with a sniff. Though Acre is at least three days' travel on a horse and no doubt significantly longer on nothing but a springy set of frog's legs, the frog doesn't lower itself to begging. If anything, it crosses its arms and looks even more obstinate, a curious creature by any measure, so prideful despite being so debased. It probably ate a fly for breakfast and it's still holding itself like royalty.
Malik sits down on the cushioned dresser chair and holds out its hand, smirking to himself. This isn't what he expected his fairytale to play out like, but he's sure there's still a dragon to be slayed and an evil wizard to be conquered somewhere. He could afford to peck a mystical creature or two. (Plus, he has an hour and a half to kill before sword practice and the map he has been studying had been giving him a headache.) But, however secretly kind, Malik is not easy, so he says, “You could afford to grovel a little in your state, Toad.”
Even as it jumps into Malik's palm the frog manages a convincing frown with its limited facial muscles. Its skin is damp and slippery but it clings to his thumb with both webbed hands nonetheless, trying to find purchase in case the prince really did throw him. “A frog,” it protests highhandedly as it is lifted to eye-level. “Not a toad.”
“No frog tongue,” says Malik and he kisses it.
Its mouth-slash-nose is wet and cold like the rest of it, but it warms up against his skin. Then, something damp brushes up against the seam of his mouth and Malik jerks back, snatching his hands back to himself and not really caring if the damned thing landed on the floor and hit its head on the way down. Certainly, as a prince, Malik is hardly as squeamish as his female counterparts, but even so, kissing a frog is still an act of charity and honestly, he had only one demand. One! He had said-
“No tongue,” he mumbles, blinking wide-eyed at the face peering straight back at him. It is golden-eyed and dark-haired, dusky-skinned and sharp in its angles, in the harsh line of its nose and the slopes of its cheeks. The mouth brushing against his lower lip is thin-lipped but hardly frog-like, a raised scar cutting across it on one side. The frog-turned-prince-turned-king has his hands braced on Malik's chair, arms on either side of the prince's hips, and he isn't moving except to take advantage of Malik's surprise to press another close-mouthed kiss against the tip of his nose.
The frog prince pulls back just as quickly, licking his lips and grinning. “No frog tongue, you said,” he argues. “You said nothing about the regular kind.”
Though the spell is obviously undone, Malik decides to take the safe route and, planting a foot against the other prince's stomach, throws him against the wall as well.
[1] – Apparently in the original versions of The Frog Prince, an act of violence (or more specifically, the princess throwing the frog against the wall) is what breaks the spell.
the amphibian predilection [2/2]
“And if I refuse to help you?”
“I'd have to go to Acre – the next closest kingdom with an available member of the a royal family,” it answers with a sniff. Though Acre is at least three days' travel on a horse and no doubt significantly longer on nothing but a springy set of frog's legs, the frog doesn't lower itself to begging. If anything, it crosses its arms and looks even more obstinate, a curious creature by any measure, so prideful despite being so debased. It probably ate a fly for breakfast and it's still holding itself like royalty.
Malik sits down on the cushioned dresser chair and holds out its hand, smirking to himself. This isn't what he expected his fairytale to play out like, but he's sure there's still a dragon to be slayed and an evil wizard to be conquered somewhere. He could afford to peck a mystical creature or two. (Plus, he has an hour and a half to kill before sword practice and the map he has been studying had been giving him a headache.) But, however secretly kind, Malik is not easy, so he says, “You could afford to grovel a little in your state, Toad.”
Even as it jumps into Malik's palm the frog manages a convincing frown with its limited facial muscles. Its skin is damp and slippery but it clings to his thumb with both webbed hands nonetheless, trying to find purchase in case the prince really did throw him. “A frog,” it protests highhandedly as it is lifted to eye-level. “Not a toad.”
“No frog tongue,” says Malik and he kisses it.
Its mouth-slash-nose is wet and cold like the rest of it, but it warms up against his skin. Then, something damp brushes up against the seam of his mouth and Malik jerks back, snatching his hands back to himself and not really caring if the damned thing landed on the floor and hit its head on the way down. Certainly, as a prince, Malik is hardly as squeamish as his female counterparts, but even so, kissing a frog is still an act of charity and honestly, he had only one demand. One! He had said-
“No tongue,” he mumbles, blinking wide-eyed at the face peering straight back at him. It is golden-eyed and dark-haired, dusky-skinned and sharp in its angles, in the harsh line of its nose and the slopes of its cheeks. The mouth brushing against his lower lip is thin-lipped but hardly frog-like, a raised scar cutting across it on one side. The frog-turned-prince-turned-king has his hands braced on Malik's chair, arms on either side of the prince's hips, and he isn't moving except to take advantage of Malik's surprise to press another close-mouthed kiss against the tip of his nose.
The frog prince pulls back just as quickly, licking his lips and grinning. “No frog tongue, you said,” he argues. “You said nothing about the regular kind.”
Though the spell is obviously undone, Malik decides to take the safe route and, planting a foot against the other prince's stomach, throws him against the wall as well.
[1] – Apparently in the original versions of The Frog Prince, an act of violence (or more specifically, the princess throwing the frog against the wall) is what breaks the spell.