Archive of Our Own

still call it magic (when I’m next to you)

“Ow, June, can you stop now?” Alex hisses as his sister threads the golden coronet through his curls, the intricately wrought gold catching on a loose strand.

“If you’d just hold still, I’d be done already!” June shoots back and tugs the unruly curl free. It doesn’t really hurt, but Alex flinches dramatically anyways. There is a point to be made here. 

“We literally pay people to do my wardrobe.”

June steps back to eye her work critically.

“Yes, and you complain about it at every opportunity and refuse to let them do their work,” she huffs.

“Because I’m not a goddamn poodle!” Alex complains, the weight of the crown making him stand even straighter than he was already. “I’ve survived perfectly fine doing my own hair for the last eighteen years, I don’t understand why mom sent us to the fanciest school in all the kingdoms just to be paraded around like dolls afterwards.”

June just rolls her eyes and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “drama queen”. Then she grabs his shoulders and turns him back to the floor-length gilded mirror in the over-the-top ensuite of his guest room. “Clearly, they failed in teaching you any manners though because then you’d at least thank your sister for making you look fantastic at your first official royal engagement.”

Alex stares at his reflection, the deep burgundy suit, the subtly textured black tie, the simple coronet that matches the light dusting of gold highlighter across his cheeks, and his retort dies on his tongue. June raises her eyebrow and smiles knowingly at him, her olive-green flowy gown shimmering iridescently in the candlelight, her soft curls arranged in an elegant loose braid around her modest tiara. They match the colours of their kingdom perfectly, two golden children sent to represent their mother with all the poise and grace that their position demands. 

Saying that tonight was a big deal was putting it lightly. Their invitation to the Winter Solstice Ball had been eagerly anticipated by their court. Although there had always been slight issues in the past, the tensions between Northern and Southern kingdoms recently reached an all-time peak, with diplomatic relations more than strained. As if they needed another reason to feel weary about the event, June and Alex had repeatedly been told how important their attendance would be, their outfits and attendants carefully chosen. But as Alex watches them stand in the mirror, he realises with a start that he does look royal and radiant, and some of the nerves that had stubbornly clung to his shoulders all day finally fall away. If a little of June’s magic is involved in that, he certainly won’t complain.

“Thanks, June,” he mumbles, now with only pretend-grumpiness.

June grins and lightly punches him in the arm. “You’re welcome, lil bit.” Alex grins back easily. 

There’s a knock on the door, and it opens without awaiting an answer as June’s best friend Nora sticks her curly head in.

“There you are! Ready to find out how drunk we can get from the famous winter punch?”

“Hell yeah”, Alex replies at the same time that June groans, “Nora, don’t give him any ideas!”

“Don’t worry, princess, those ideas were 100% already there,” Nora grins and tugs June out of the room. 

“We’re here as official court representatives, and it’s Alex’s first time so I just think that we need to lead with a good example…” June argues, but Alex is already tuning her out as he follows the girls along the corridor to the main doors of the ballroom. 

Travelling to the palace had taken the best part of two days and two nights, and when they had finally arrived, the sheer size of the imposing white monstrosity had taken his breath away. It’s not that Alex wasn’t used to grand buildings, but this one was certainly in a different category of opulent. He had craned his neck out of the carriage as they drove past window after window, hoping to catch a strand of blond hair or a pale hand waving behind the glass. But there was only staff waiting for them when they finally made it to the extensive guest wing. 

Alex runs his fingers over a crumpled-up piece of paper in the pocket of his suit trousers, the familiar cursive a warm thread that Alex has been holding onto for months now, even if he can’t quite tell why.

June and Nora slow down in front of two courtiers standing at the ornate white and silver doors, who promptly pull them open with a low bow. 

Alex barely hears them announce Their Royal Highnesses Prince Alexander and Princess Catalina and Baroness Nora de Holleran as he nearly stumbles on the polished white marble floor, trying to take in the grandeur of the large ballroom all at once. 

What was undoubtedly already an impressive room, decked out with large mirrors, moonstone walls and large candleholders, has been carefully turned into a winter-themed extravagant feast. Tables made from what looks like intricately carved clear ice are neatly arranged with sparkling champagne glasses, waiters in midnight-blue velvet uniforms offering the large crowd of guests in expensive gowns and suits tiny hor d'oeuvres on gleaming silver platters, a string quartet gently strumming on a mirrored platform in the corner. Everything sparkles and glitters in the light of what appears to be a million crystals magically suspended from the tall ceiling. 

Alex realises that he must have stared at the effortlessly enchanted lights for a moment too long because when he turns to point them out to June, she and Nora have already disappeared into the crowd, probably in search of their friends and the fabled winter punch.

He hastily bows in the direction of the Queen, who is holding court on the other end of the room and doesn’t even spare him a second glance, before he ambles along the drinks tables, strategically scanning the guests. It doesn’t take him long to spot the tall, blond man wearing a royal blue suit and a silver circlet on his head, and Alex smiles.

Alex would find Henry anywhere. 

❄️ 8 years ago ❄️

Alex should sleep. He knows he should sleep. The bed is unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable, and his nanny must have snuck a small bag of dried bluebells under his pillow as she set up his new room, because he can smell the familiar soft scent whenever he tosses and turns. 

His new roommate Liam went to sleep hours ago, softly snoring and cocooned in a fur blanket that seems a little too thick even for the cooler temperature in their dorm room. He seemed very friendly, if a little shy when he introduced himself earlier as the son of an earl who is well-known for their rich hunting lands. 

Everything should be fine. He’s been away from home plenty of times before, travelling with his mother, the Queen of the South, for most of the past year. He has been looking forward to finally being allowed to go to the school that June has told him so much about. In her stories, it sounded like they were running around the old castle or riding their horses all day. And when he and June arrived at the Royal School this evening, it did seem magical in the glittery snow and the crisp air, illuminated by the flickering light of candles and fires in each of the many rooms.

But now everything seems a little more lonely and daunting in the white moonlight that is streaming through the gap between the heavy curtains in front of the window. And Alex keeps thinking about how he’ll be in a classroom tomorrow and meet the rest of his classmates. Will they like him? Will his mother smile about his end-of-year report just like she had about June’s? Will the directrice Madame Zahra be less scary in the daylight? Maybe he is not old enough, maybe he should not have insisted on starting school a year earlier than everyone else, too bored without June at home. 

The questions bounce around in his head, each getting a little more jagged and jarring as time goes on. And sleep just isn’t coming.

With an exasperated huff, Alex pushes the blanket away and feels around for his gown and slippers. As he pushes his feet in the warm fur and hugs the thick fabric closer to him, he’s already starting to feel better. His dad is often wandering the house at night, nursing a thick spiced hot chocolate and reading the latest agricultural reports. Jump and just hope it isn't a cliff, he often says. Alex thinks it means that he should have courage to do scary things. And a castle at night could be a scary place but it could also be a great adventure to explore it when everyone is asleep. June had gushed about the large kitchens on the ground floor of the school, maybe he could find them and make himself a hot chocolate like his dad does.

With determination, he pushes open the door and slips out quietly. The dorms are at the other end of the castle, and he vaguely remembers the several sets of stairs they had to trudge up earlier, the well-worn steps stretching endlessly upwards.

On swift feet he pads down the thickly carpeted corridor, dimly lit by large wooden candlesticks. The staircase is easy enough to find, and it doesn’t take long until he is on the ground floor and is sneaking towards the moonlit central cloister, increasingly giddy by his secret excursion through the silent castle. 

Almost silent. 

As he turns towards what must be the glass conservatory and kitchen garden, he suddenly notices a quiet sniffling. 

“Hello?” Alex whispers. 

The noises stop immediately. 

Maybe anyone else would have carried on, blaming a mouse or late night imagination, but for some reason, Alex feels himself drawn to the far corner of the conservatory. Several bushy orange and lemon trees rustle softly in a draft of warm air which must come from the kitchen fires nearby. 

“Someone here?” he asks quietly. When no reply comes, he squeezes through the leaves towards the wall and almost collides with a boy with messy blond hair who is huddled against a vent in the wall. They both gasp in surprise, the large blue eyes of the other boy puffy and afraid.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Alex says, his well-trained manners instantly kicking in.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” the other boy stammers.

“Just looking for a nice warm spot next to some lemon trees, really. But it looks like you’ve beaten me to it,” Alex replies with a grin and the boy gives him a shy smile.

Alex stretches out his hand. “I’m Alex. From the Southern Kingdom.”

The boy stares at his hand for a moment, and wipes his eyes before he gently shakes it. “Henry of the Northern Kingdom.”

“Can I sit?”

When Henry nods his head, Alex sinks to the pleasantly warm tiles, leaning against a big plant pot. A beat of silence goes by, Alex scrambling to come up with something clever to say.

He finally settles on, “There are probably not many lemon trees in the North?”

“Just in our orangerie,” Henry replies. He hesitates a moment before he continues, “It’s my dad’s and my favourite place.”

“First day today?” Alex inquires, and Henry nods. “Yeah, same. Roommate seems nice but does snore a bit.”

Henry grins, visibly more relaxed. “Mine put on silk pyjamas and a velvet eye mask, told me ‘goodnight darling’ and promptly fell asleep.”

Alex laughs. “Some people are blessed.”

Henry leans back against the wall. “I’ve always liked going to our conservatory at night because you can see the stars through the glass.”

“Is that what you were doing? Looking at the stars?” Alex asks softly.

Henry stares up through the leaves wistfully. “Whenever I can’t sleep, my dad tells me stories about the stars. Like these ones,” he points towards a constellation just between the dark leaves of the tree and the side of the conservatory roof, “can you see those three bright stars?” Alex scoots next to him and cranes his neck until he can see them as well. “Those belong to Orion.”

“I’ve never heard about Orion,” Alex admits.

Henry’s eyes gleam in the moonlight. “Shall I tell you his story? My dad always says it’s about how love can hurt you and save you at the same time.”

Alex nods excitedly, he loves stories. 

Henry sits up straighter and starts narrating softly. “There was once a prince who fell in love with someone he should not have fallen in love with…”

If the warmth of the tiles and soft rustling of the leaves made them sleepy enough to curl up around each other and fall asleep until the first rays of sunlight in the morning, and they had to keep from giggling as they hid from the staff lighting fires and carrying trays of steaming tea to get back to their rooms unnoticed, no one but Alex and Henry every knew. Maybe apart from the staff who all smiled as they saw the two sets of small feet poke out from under the tapestries in the hallways.

❄️

Alex grabs a champagne flute off a tray as he saunters over to Henry, who from the slightly pinched look on his face is in desperate need of saving from two young heiresses giving him cow eyes. 

“... and then I said to her, the Northern Kingdom is much nicer anyways, I wouldn’t mind spending my whole life there!” 

“Good evening, ladies,” Alex drawls charmingly, enjoying the look of recognition as the girls turn towards him. “I’m really sorry to interrupt y’all but my sister has been insistent on speaking to Prince Henry about her current charitable projects, I hope you wouldn’t mind me borrowing him for a moment?”

The girls titter and curtsey, as he loops his free arm into Henry’s and pulls him away with an exaggeratedly  apologetic nod.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Henry hisses, “You are a godsend, I have been trying to disentangle myself from that conversation for what felt like an eternity.”

“Sorry for getting here late, June was fussing,” Alex replies with an eye roll, enjoying their familiar banter like it had never stopped.

They reach a sheltered corner next to a large champagne fountain, and Alex lets go of Henry to turn to him. 

“I mean look at this crown, isn’t it ridiculous?”, he scoffs. “It’s not like there is anyone in this room who isn’t royal.”

Henry is giving him a look that he can’t quite decipher, and if Alex didn’t know better, he would have said that Henry looks slightly flustered.

Henry clears his throat. “It does suit you.”

“Thanks, man,” Alex slaps him on the shoulder with a grin. “You look great too, bro.”

When Henry smiles back, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Champagne?” Alex holds his glass up.

Henry shakes his head. “My grandmother will literally have my head on a platter for dessert if I get drunk or in any way misbehave tonight. You and your court being here was already a big concession in the first place.”

Alex places the glass on the nearest gleaming ice table, and hands him a glass of what looks like sparkling water instead, enjoying the look of quiet appreciation in Henry’s eyes. He gestures at the decor. “I must admit I didn’t quite realise how fancy this party was going to be.”

“Winter solstice is a serious affair in our kingdom—I feel like I’ve done nothing else but discuss the merits and costs of real versus magical ice for the past ten months. Not quite what I had in mind after finishing school,” Henry grimaces.

“Dude, you need to come visit me! You promised you’d come see me after graduation and that was almost a year ago!” Alex complains.

Before Henry can reply, they are both caught in a hug from behind.

“The Three Kings reunited!”

Alex turns and hugs Pez back with a laugh.

“So good to see you, Pez! It’s been way too long!”

Pez lets him go and looks him up and down with a large grin.

“The sun has done wonders for you, darling! Isn’t our little boy looking especially delicious tonight, Hazza?” Alex rolls his eyes as Henry chokes on his sparkling water.

❄️ 4 years ago ❄️

“Listen to this nonsense: Bla bla bla the most potent magic lies not in blood but in the circumstantial affects. What is that even supposed to mean?!” 

Alex flops dramatically onto Henry’s bed.

“I cannot remember a single fact, year, or name for this damn test.”

Henry turns from his desk with a sigh.

“Come on, Alex, let’s just finish our revision, and we can do a mock test. I’m sure you’re not as bad as you think.”

“It’s dinner time!” Alex whines. “And why do I even need to learn History of Magic when I’m second in line to the throne? Hell, you’re one…two…” he counts on his fingers, “fourth in line to your throne. It’s not like we’d ever take the crown and be able to do any magic! Pez here should be studying, and he doesn’t even bother.”

Pez looks up with a smug grin from where he is painting his nails with a second coat of neon green nail polish on his bed. “Well babes, you should have thought about that before you became second and third sons—I don’t need to learn this, I can just magick my way to a good grade.”

Alex sits up. “Is that true?”

Pez snickers, and Henry sighs exasperatedly at the same time.

“Of course it isn’t,” Henry says and rolls his eyes. “Pez is just…Pez. Whatever he does, he is great at.”

“Hate the guy,” Alex exclaims, and Pez laughs delightedly.

“Alright, let’s do one more hour and then you can go do whatever it is you’re so desperate to do instead,” Henry suggests with a slight eyebrow raise.

Alex groans and lets himself fall back on the bed again.

“It’s that girl from June’s class that she keeps hanging out with and taking everywhere. I can’t even look at her without making a fool of myself but… I don’t know… she’s just so… Anyways, I just was hoping to see her at dinner tonight.”

“Nora is amazing,” Pez affirms.

“She is, and she doesn’t even seem to notice me. As Henry always says—she’s driving me to distraction,” Alex intonates with a grin. 

He can hear Henry rummaging around on his desk, probably getting the set of flashcards ready for review again.

Pez hums. “Ah, the woes of young and unrequited love.”

❄️

Alex isn't drunk. He isn't even tipsy. He’s had one sip of June’s much-too-sweet winter punch, and one hastily downed glass of champagne which he more than deserved after politely listening to an older royal talk his ear off for half an hour about how foxhunting was a god-given right. 

So there is nothing that explains why over the last hours, he couldn’t stop looking at Henry. He’s seen Henry almost every day for seven years. He’s seen him round-faced, pimply, sick with the flu, and horrendously hungover after more than one misguided night out with Pez. He’s seen him in pajamas, school uniforms, polo gear, and in formal wear when they were head boys together. 

Henry in a smart suit, tall and straight with an understated crown gleaming in his blond hair, should not be a new sight. He doesn't look that different than the last time he had hugged him goodbye at their graduation. But still Alex just cannot look away.

Maybe it’s because he’s missed him more than he’d like to admit. Sitting next to him in classrooms in the morning, spotting him in the stands cheering for his lacrosse team, hanging out in his room almost every night of the week had become so incredibly normal that moving back to his own kingdom had felt like arriving in a foreign country. Maybe that feeling of emptiness had been one of the main reasons he had been happy to be kept busy, attending every single meeting he could, diving headfirst into court politics even though he still isn’t even entirely sure whether this is what he wants to do.

In any case, Alex should not have time to be looking at anyone tonight. He hasn’t spent eighteen years in his mother’s court for nothing, he knows that social events are for working, not for having fun. This ball is for meeting the right people, fostering connections between kingdoms that will benefit them in the long run. It’s for smiling politely when someone greets him with a raised brow and the words “Ah, you must be from the South”. It’s for charming the pants off any influential duke, marquess, and earl he comes across, remembering the names of grandchildren, ponies, and pugs, and slipping more and more into his role as prince.

But Henry feels like a magnet across the room, an unavoidable centre of gravity, drawing Alex in again and again.

When two older viscountesses laugh delightedly about his carefully selected story about pranking his teachers with chili-laced cookies, Alex catches Henry’s amused look from where he is talking to Pez’s uncle and a few dignitaries from the Islands. While some random baron called Hunter tells Alex about his new business venture in selling encyclopedias of the landed gentry, he is distracted by the tension in Henry’s shoulders and furrowed brows as he talks to the Queen across the room. When he finally manages to pull away from a conversation about horse racing regulations to wolf down a handful of salmon and cream cheese vol-au-vents, he watches Henry’s carefully-schooled face and painted-on smile as some countess introduces her daughter Martha to him, who according to June is one of the most eligible women of the Northern Kingdom.

For some time after that, Alex loses sight of him, too preoccupied with ticking off his mental list of royals to introduce himself to and avoiding the Queen who has been shooting him icy glances whenever he gets close enough to the top of the room. 

It is only when the string quartet seamlessly changes into a livelier band, the lighting dims and the centre of the room is discreetly turned into a dance floor with casual seating around the sides, that Alex can finally exhale and look for his friends in earnest. Most of the older generation of royals have now retired to the adjacent smoking room, or likely their guest suites, and more and more of the younger international royals have taken to dancing—not in the style of nightclubs, but still vibrant enough to make the room echo with laughter and conversation.

The most raucous laughter is coming from the far end of the room, and Alex grins as he heads over to where June and Nora are stood in the corner next to the dancefloor chatting animatedly with Pez and a more relaxed-looking Henry. When Alex catches up to them, Henry is laughing freely at Pez’s ridiculous story of how they snuck out of school to go to the local village pub only to get lost and spend the night freezing cold in an abandoned log hut in the forest. It must be the flickering lights or the strange magic in the air tonight, because all Alex can focus on is how the light refracts off Henry’s silver coronet, adds a sparkle to his amused eyes, and softens his smooth hand holding a glass of sparkling water.

Just as Pez ends the story, the band starts playing an instrumental cover of a popular song, and the girls squeal in delight as Pez bows low and then drags them onto the dance floor, twirling each of them around. Henry watches them go with a fond smile, but Alex knows him well enough to notice that it once again doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Long night?” Alex asks, noticing Henry’s weary posture.

Henry grimaces and takes a drink from his glass. “Tell me about it.”

“Is it all going well though?” Alex follows up carefully.

“Yes, fine,” Henry replies quickly without looking at him. His brother Philip is making his way over them, and Henry’s knuckles are suddenly white around the stem of the crystal glass. 

“I should—” Henry trails off, straightening his back again.

It’s making Alex feel a pang of regret and something else that he can’t put into words.

Jump and just hope it isn’t a cliff, his dad always tells him, and in a split second decision, Alex holds out his hand to Henry.

Henry frowns as he first looks at Alex’s outstretched hand and then at his face.

“Your Highness, may I have this dance?” Alex smiles, hoping to look more sure than he feels.

The startled surprise in Henry’s eyes is immediately taken over by sheer panic as Alex goes to nudge them towards the dancefloor.

“A-Alex, we can't—the Queen—” Henry stammers. Alex glances to the raised seating area on the other end of the room where the Queen of the Northern Kingdom is currently occupied talking to two duchesses and their daughters. There is a whole ballroom between them, the lights low.

“Don’t worry, she won’t notice us,” Alex urges, and before he can even think about it, he adds, “Come on, sweetheart.” 

Something melts in Henry’s eyes and he breathes out, “Alright then.”

Alex takes a few steps back until they’re right on the edge of the dancefloor. Henry rests his glass on a nearby table and slowly matches every move, his eyes wide.

With sudden courage, Alex steps up closer and rests his left hand on Henry’s right shoulder, feeling the smooth silk fabric under his fingertips. He looks up into the deep blue of Henry’s eyes that are still studying him with confusion and leans in to whisper, “I’ll even let you lead just like old times.”

Henry chuckles and the tension between them eases slightly as he pulls Alex’s right hand into his left one with sure fingers.

“Well, let’s hope you’ve gotten better at not stepping on your partner’s toes,” he teases, and Alex laughs. 

“How is your sense of rhythm these days, Your Majesty? Because I believe it was atrocious,” Alex teases back and enjoys the large smile that spreads on Henry’s face. Without any warning, he pushes Alex forward at the next beat, leading them into an easy waltz.

Memories of them fooling around in Henry and Pez’s bedroom after dance classes flood back, and a sense that Alex might be close to something he has missed for years is getting stronger with each step they take on the polished marble.

Henry’s hand is soft and gentle where he holds onto his fingers, and his gaze is asking him questions that Alex cannot answer yet. All he knows for sure is that he feels better than he has in the past twelve months, something slotting into an achingly empty spot in his heart, and the music swells up around them in the sparkling lights. The chatter around them seems to quiet, the room fading away into a twinkling haze.

It feels perfect, a moment suspended on a fragile string as Alex drinks in every flicker of quiet emotion in Henry’s gaze, swaying gently to the melody of the song. 

The perfection lasts exactly until Philip catches up with them. He is glaring at him from behind Henry’s back, and Alex is tempted to just ignore him. But then Henry turns them with a little flourish and immediately loses his step as he notices Philip. They slow down and Henry lowers his arms.

“Henry,” Philip scolds, “You know what the Queen told you.”

Alex is about to tell him to fuck off, when Henry lifts their arms back into position and declares defiantly, “Get lost, Philip.”

With sure steps, Henry manoeuvres them further onto the dancefloor.

“You’ve been warned,” Philip shouts after them.

Alex raises his eyebrow to inquire about the exchange, but Henry just shakes his head and spins them around, his eyes begging to return to where they were a moment ago. And Alex follows his lead with a smile. Something in his veins is burning, bubbling over with joy, his eyes drowning yet again in an endless ocean.

But the burning in his hands doesn’t stop, becoming hotter and hotter where he is holding onto Henry’s body, the warmth turning into an intense fire that makes Henry drop his hands with a pained hiss. They stop in the middle of the dancefloor, confusion on both of their faces, the other dancers around them entirely oblivious to the scene.

“What happened?” Alex presses out, his tongue like lead in his mouth. 

Henry is turning over his hands in confusion. “I don’t—” he stammers. 

As if struck by a sudden realisation, Henry turns towards the Queen who is studying them with icy eyes and a self-satisfied smile. 

“Henry—”, Alex starts but Henry has already spun on his heel and is making his way through the crowd, the music and noise suddenly deafening in Alex’s ears. 

Alex stumbles after him, not caring if he knocks into dancers or tables. Something has happened to Henry, he can feel it deep in his bones, a kind of magic that is making him nauseous and frantic. He should find June and Nora, but he can’t let Henry out of his sight. Not now, not when he is on the brink of a realisation, right on the edge, ready to tumble and fall. 

He has to stand on his toes to find Henry over the crowd and just manages to see him disappear behind a dark curtain opposite the entrance doors. When Alex finally gets there to lift the heavy fabric, he realises it’s covering a set of glass doors leading to the garden. In a minute of panic, Alex rattles on the handles until he finds one that is unlocked. He nearly falls through it onto a patio, ankle-deep in fresh snow, more snow falling slowly onto the symmetrical trees and bushes in the palace gardens. The peacefulness of the scene is almost jarring as Alex desperately tries to adjust to the low light.

Finally, he notices a motionless figure standing next to one of the trees at the other end of the patio and the footsteps in the white powder that lead to him. 

“Henry,” he calls out, but Henry doesn’t move.

Alex approaches carefully, the patio slippy under his dress shoes. Henry still doesn’t turn, his head low, hands curled into fists by his side. 

“Henry,” Alex repeats gently, reaching out to him. But as his fingertips brush Henry’s fist, a white-hot pain rushes through his body again, making them both flinch. Alex drops his hand, and Henry finally moves to face him.

Henry’s face is wet with tears, and Alex feels something in him break into small pieces.

“What’s going on?” Alex asks, dazed. 

Henry doesn’t meet his eye, more tears falling as he wrestles to articulate it. “It’s a curse,” he finally mumbles.

“The Queen cursed you? Why?”

Henry just stares at him in agony.

“Because of me?” Alex whispers, cold dread filling him. 

Henry looks down at the melting snow seeping into his suit trousers and slowly nods.

“I was not to fraternise with the Southern Kingdom or its heirs,” he replies quietly. "So now she has made sure that I won't."

“We can reverse it, Henry, I promise,” Alex rushes to say, trying to ignore the ice spreading through his limbs. Henry is looking into the distance again, dusting off some of the snow on his clothes. 

“My mom and Pez’s dad are really talented, we'll send word. You’ll just visit us, and they will take care of it,” Alex rambles on, but Henry has already turned on his heel, walking slowly towards a small grove of trees in the large garden. 

“Henry, wait. Goddammit,” he curses as he trips over a hidden step under the snow, scrambling to keep up.

Henry stops under a large cedar, the needles glittering in the distant light of the palace. Alex walks right up to him until their faces are only a fogged breath apart. He looks up at him, traces his sharp jaw, soft cheeks and straight nose with his eyes until Henry reluctantly meets his gaze. In the wintery twilight, Henry’s eyes are black and dejected, a look of acceptance creeping into his features that Alex has seen many times but never recognised. But Alex is not going to accept anything. He has finally realised what he’s known for eight years but never understood. The ledge is right here, and he is ready. 

“I really am as thick as it gets,” he mumbles, looking up in silent supplication to some higher being. And stares right at a large bunch of what is unmistakably mistletoe. It seems so stupid that it comes full circle to potentially genius.

He grabs the lapels of Henry’s suit, and before he can overthink it or Henry so much as move, Alex kisses him.

As soon as their lips touch, the dark current of electricity starts cursing through them, and they both gasp. Henry tries to pull away, but Alex closes his eyes and holds him tighter, molding his lips closer to Henry’s. Where one power is trying to keep them apart, another seems to knit them firmer together, the pleasure balancing the pain on a precarious edge.

With a sigh, Henry finally melts into the kiss, threading his fingers into Alex’s curls. Tiny sparks seem to fizz across Alex’s skin, the snow wrapping them in a hushed silence as if the world was holding its breath with them.

Alex has been kissed many times before, but never has it felt so deeply right as when his lips are moving in unison with Henry’s, when he lets himself be gently explored by his soft tongue and get lost in the familiar scent of pine and linen.

With every hitched breath, the current seems to shift, turning from painful to energising, an ancient magic dulling and reverting the spell.

Alex drags his fingers along Henry’s suit to his face, feeling warmth spread across his cheeks, marvelling in the smoothness of his skin.

When they at last break apart panting, Henry’s skin seems to be glowing in the soft luminescence of snow and ice.

“Alex,” Henry breathes, and Alex laughs, relieved. Henry moves his hands to cup Alex’s face, nothing but a sparkling joy lingering between them, meeting his eyes with awe. “How?”

Alex gathers up his courage for the final leap. 

“I think—I think I’m in love with you,” he confesses, watching the surprise spread across Henry’s face. “Do you—”

But before he can finish his sentence, Henry tilts his head to capture his lips again. 

“Yes”, Henry sighs in between one soft kiss and the next, smiling.

The snow continues to fall gently, the world quiet around them, and all Alex can hear is their joint heartbeats, beating under their fingertips.

❄️ 1 year ago ❄️

Graduation is tonight, and Alex has everything packed already. His two large trunks are in the hallway, waiting to be picked up by the porters. His suit is the only piece of clothing still hung up in his wardrobe, and he is just waiting for Liam to finish getting ready before he can get changed and meet his family and friends in the entrance hall.

Henry has given him a notebook with the edited version of his valedictorian speech, and Alex is pacing the room, reading it for what feels like the hundredth time to make sure he can remember every word. 

“I’m almost ready!” Liam shouts from the ensuite, and Alex drops the notebook with a start.

“No rush, man,” Alex replies with a laugh, leaning down to retrieve the notebook again. A folded piece of paper falls out from between the pages as he lifts it, and Alex fishes it from under his bed. 

It’s the questions for their yearbook, each answer in Henry’s flawless cursive. Alex knows them already, Pez is on the yearbook committee and has run several design versions past them. Each answer is as bland and proper as the next, and Alex has teased Henry relentlessly for them.

His attention is drawn to the final question: