An apple had never tasted so sweet.
The prince's lips buzzed, and his hands felt stiff. Another bite would hopefully remedy the uneasy feeling. Snow bit into the apple repeatedly until it was nothing but a core. It was said that fruit and sugar helped calm nerves, but this seemed to have the opposite effect on him. He was more jittery and unsure of himself than ever. Snow groaned as he tossed the finished piece of fruit to one of his servants to dispose of.
The hall trumpeted, and he hurried away from the crafts table to take his place as he had in rehearsals.
Stand up straight. Chin up. Eyes forward. Bow slowly when meeting your guests. That was the advice Snow had been given to present himself confidently. If he looked established, then he'd eventually feel grounded in the situation. All of this had been proven false, time and again, by his experiences.
Here he was, doing as instructed, standing at the end of a long red carpet with his father beside him. Each maiden in the Kingdom of Stone Roll had gathered in the palace for a royal ball. King Arthur had declared it to be for the prince's birthday as well as the Winter Moon Faire, both being so close to each other. It was the most transparent lie the king had ever told his son. It didn't take a genius to know what was going on here.
Snow was finally of age to ascend the throne, standing tall at age twenty. It meant that he was eligible to marry, and now was the time to choose the lucky girl who would become his queen. Although this had never been stated directly, Snow's father had been passively persistent on the matter. One time, there had even been a fortune teller who claimed to see a future where his love would come from the farthest corner of the world, more beautiful than anyone he'd ever laid eyes on.
The very idea made him stir in his boots. He shook his head slightly as the newest guest turned and walked to take her place among the other maidens in the crowd. Another approached.
How many names had been announced? It didn't matter. Snow would forget them immediately after hearing them. Daughters of lords and ladies from the many villages and cities within Stone Roll's borders amounted to a sea of faces dolled up to the point of obnoxiousness. The evening had just started, and already Snow wanted to flee to his bed-chamber and feign illness. He did not want to spend another moment in these festivities.
The next woman approached, and they exchanged bows.
His lips were turned up in a stiff smile, but his eyes said it all. No interest. Besides, whoever this woman was, she was far too old for him. Possibly twice his age, he thought.
Then came a familiar face, and he relaxed a bit. At least there was one person here he was glad to see. Princess Paribanu was next. As she walked towards him, Snow looked about the great hall and spotted her brother, Prince Ali, on the far side. Their gazes met, and a sparkle appeared in Snow's eyes for what must have been the first time that whole evening.
"A pleasure, your grace," Paribanu said as she bowed.
Snow's attention returned to her, and he bowed back. "The pleasure is mine. I'm happy you all made it here safely."
Their presence alone was enough to draw attention. They were one of the few guests who had been invited from beyond the Stone Roll's territory. However, it wasn't just their special invitation and connection to King Arthur. In a sea of women with frivolous ball gowns, big curls, and bright pastel fabrics, Paribanu was the dark horse of them all.
Her hair was the very essence of the night, shimmering down her back with a blackness, void of light like no other. Many times, the two nobles had compared their hair to debate whose hair was darker. Paribanu's or Snow's? The princess's hair was wrapped in a crimson shawl that was embellished with gold trim and glittering stones. A small emirati draped over her forehead with a ruby in the center. Red had always been her color of choice; the color of blood. It suited her well and complemented her copper skin, Snow thought.
"We wouldn't miss it for the world. Father insisted, and Ali… Well, you know him. He looks for any excuse to be here, especially in winter."
Paribanu and Ali's home nation, Nayzaria, was a dry kingdom in the middle of the desert on the southern continent. An eternal summer surrounded the kingdom, making most of the land infertile. Tales from their nation say that the land was once a wild and lush jungle. Their kingdom thrived in play and pleasantries without end. Then a fateful day came without warning when fire rained from the sky and laid it all to waste. Some claim it was a punishment from an elder god for their transgressions. Others say the land was cursed by a jinn.
Explorers and historians have pieced together some evidence supporting many different theories, but most of it remains inconclusive. In the current political climate, unlike Stone Roll, Nayzaria was isolated by location rather than choice.
However, what it lacked in diverse climate, it made up for in rich merchandise and medical understandings sought after by all nations of the world. Their kingdom had survived for the past few centuries with the trade of gems and spices, but what most really wanted was knowledge.
"You both are always welcome here. And I'll be looking forward to dancing with you."
"An honor, Prince Snow." With that, she turned and walked to take her place in the crowd beside her brother.
Her dress draped down her body, arms covered by wide sleeves. It appeared to be heavy material, yet when she walked, the fabric flowed in a brisk, airy fashion, bouncing softly around her. Paribanu looked as though she was effortlessly floating across the hall. Men would stare, mesmerized by her bewitching beauty, and women would sneer, envious to have seen the prince give her a moment of extra attention.
Snow could feel the intense stare from his father's eyes behind him, burning into the back of his skull, and he gulped.
Traditionally, yes. During a ball such as this, the prince would typically choose any one maiden to become his queen. Though newly appointed into law, a princess must be chosen. Until recently, if no princess was in attendance, then he'd be allowed to choose anyone he wanted. Stone Roll was a kingdom isolated in the mountains. The next closest known kingdom was over a week's journey to the north. Although many aristocrats and nobility had been invited from all over Stone Roll, Paribanu was the only princess in the room.
This ball was an absolute joke. It was a formality and a distraction from the unspoken agreement King Arthur and Sultan Huran had seemingly made for years. Snow and Paribanu had been betrothed since they were children. This was to be the announcement of their engagement, or rather, Snow was supposed to finally publicly propose to Paribanu, and she was to accept. It was a drama of a sort where they were to play their parts appropriately and send the audience off after an evening of pleasantries.
When the last of the guests had been introduced, the festivities began. Dancing, dining, games, and entertainment of all kinds. Stone Roll's jesters juggled. Nayzarian dancers performed their fire shows, and the guests made merry, all except for Snow. Every time he danced with someone, he counted the seconds until it was over. Each conversation with his father's court felt like he was reciting a rehearsed script. The prince longed for nothing more than a moment to breathe without the expectations and pressure of social hierarchy weighing on his shoulders.
He gazed over the ballroom, scanning the crowds for his retainer, Fowler. All he'd have to do is give him the usual signal, and his bodyguard would create a distraction for him to slip away. Not even his father knew they had this little system in place for anxious moments like these.
"Fowler…where is he?"
Suddenly, his father's strong hand clasped over his shoulder, giving him an encouraging pat. "MY BOY! Enjoying the evening, yet?" Arthur's thunderous voice bellowed in his ear.
"Y-yes, Father," he lied, shaking as he turned on his heels. "Was just about to, erm~"
"WONDERFUL! Now tell your old man something!" He leaned in close, holding a hand up to his mouth in a useless attempt to keep their conversation private. Arthur had never known the meaning of the word "modesty." He was a man who spoke with passion in his throat at every word. "Has anyone caught your eye yet? You know, I've yet to see you dance with Princess Paribanu. Waiting for the right song, are you? I can snap my fingers and it'll happen. Just wait a moment and I'll inform the orchestra!"
Arthur turned to wave at the conductor until Snow hastily pulled his hand down. "N-NO! I- I mean that is to say…" he gulped. His knees were shaking as he tried to come up with an excuse to keep his father from pressing this matter any more than he already was. Snow wanted this night to end as fast as possible, to go to bed, or sneak away from it all! "I erm - want to win her over without help. Let my charm speak for itself."
Snow bit his tongue and swallowed, imagining he could take back those words. His insides twisted.
Arthur just tilted his head and smiled pleasantly at his son. "I see! Now that's the spirit! Why, any maiden would swoon over you from just a kiss on her hand. Rise to the challenge, my boy! Go, show her what you're made of!" The king gave his son another firm pat on the back and shoved him in Paribanu's direction with a proud, confident smile.
The music perused through the ballroom, and Snow stumbled up to meet Paribanu again. His lips were pulled back in a forced smile as he cleared his throat. He had her attention. There was nothing to fear. It was just Paribanu - an old friend. "Ah, my dear. Forgive me, for I can't contain my excitement any longer." Snow gave a low bow and grit his teeth for the moment his face was hidden. "Would you care to share this song and dance with me?" Snow held a gloved hand out for her to take, and when she did, he brought it up to his lips to kiss. "You're looking as ravishing as ever this evening."
Those final words tugged at him. He clenched his teeth, and his face sank into a slight frown. He couldn't hide his lack of interest.
Paribanu only smirked at him and stepped closer to him. "Yes, this is when we're supposed to dance, isn't it? We dance. We kiss, and then I suppose you'll want to whisk me away into the garden on a romantic stroll, won't you?"
Snow froze for a moment. Was he that predictable? Or did this girl just understand him so well after years of being in each other's forced company that she could read his mind? "Well, yes. That was the idea. I mean, erh- after all, don't you know how lovely you'd look in the pale moonlight?"
"As opposed to any other circumstance? I look lovely no matter the scenery."
"Most certainly, but I just thought it'd be nice to..." He was starting to sweat. Why was she so resistant to just a dance? His eyes shifted, trying to look behind him, but he dared not turn his head. He could feel his father's eyes focused on him, watching out of earshot and waiting for him to carry her on the dance floor. Snow gulped, and Paribanu sighed, shaking her head.
"Snow, it's all over your face that you don't want me to say yes. So let me reject you." Paribanu pulled her hand from Snow's grip, lifted her skirt slightly from the floor, and made for the denser crowds.
Confused and humiliated, Snow watched as Paribanu chatted amongst the other women, and soon after saw her escorting another onto the dancefloor for the next dance. His jaw opened in amazement. How was it that Paribanu could woo women better than he could? Was this a trick? Another one of her cruel jokes? An act? Had she convinced the other girl she was now dancing with to play along?
King Arthur witnessed it all and rubbed his hand over his face, frustrated as he observed Snow's pitiful failure. "We've still got work to do," he groaned.
"That son of yours isn't too keen on my daughter. You know, you could arrange this deal yourself if you ordered him to do it. How long has it been since you've tried to let this happen naturally?" Sultan Huran said with a stern expression to King Arthur.
"Over ten years," he admitted in a defeated tone. "I don't want us to have to force them into an arrangement, but if that's what it takes…"
Sultan Huran shook his head. "There are a number of princes on the southern continent wanting to be her suitor. And they've waited long enough. If your son doesn't get his act together tonight, then our deal is off. I won't give away my daughter to an unsuitable prince such as Snow."
King Arthur gritted his teeth. It was now or never. That was the deal. Give Sultan Huran's daughter a husband, and in exchange, Stone Roll would be provided with doctors and chemists who would craft treatment for their diseases. Now he was backed into a corner. It was time to either force his son into marriage to strengthen his kingdom or sacrifice the well-being of his citizens for his son's freedom of choice.
That was the struggle of being both a king and a parent.
A tall, slender figure stepped forth from beside Sultan Huran and cleared his throat. "Sire," he said in a calm but stern tone. "If I may suggest, perhaps extend our stay by a few days?"
"What? Jafar, why on earth would we do that?"
"It would be seen as most rude to leave so abruptly." He leaned in close to whisper in the Sultan's ear. "And should Stone Roll seek beyond its borders to the North or the West, then what's to stop them from spreading ill word of our own kingdom? Think of alliances. The power of the northern continent is greater than all of the southern deserts combined."
Sultan Huran sighed and shook his head. "Very well. Thank you, Jafar." He waved a hand to dismiss him, stepped closer to King Arthur, and lowered his voice. "No… tonight wouldn't be fair. It'd spoil the whole festival to tell your kingdom such terrible news. We'll stay until after the Winter's Moon Faire is over. He has until then to make a decision."
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I'm sure I can convince Snow to propose before the year ends."
"That would be most admirable, Your Grace," Jafar interjected. "Perhaps for now, why don't you both enjoy yourselves and leave the prince and princess to me?"
"Thank you, Jafar. I'm sure you're right." Huran aimed his gaze at the number of women who seemed to have come bearing no daughter nor husband and far too old for Snow. "After all, there are two eligible bachelors here," he said as he turned towards Arthur once again. "Why not talk to someone?"
Arthur's face flushed, and he shook his head. "I'm not sure, Huran. I mean - it's been a few years since Scarlett...w-well, I'm not sure I'm ready just yet."
"You're not the one who needs to marry someone tonight. Just a simple conversation or a dance. For now, forget our little deal and try to be happy again." Huran extended his arm out for Arthur, encouraging him to look around at everyone who had their eyes on him, eager to be in his company.
The king sighed but put on a smile quickly. "Very well then. Just a dance."
Just like that, Snow watched his father take a guest to the dance floor. He was the only one without a partner, and now he was every bit as desperate to escape as he was ashamed. Snow balled his hands into fists, thinking of flinging himself at the next girl that crossed paths with him and taking her on the whirlwind of her life. Anyone would do. It didn't matter if they were a princess or a commoner, just so long as he could do what was expected of him.
He was about to shake off his doubt, march right up to anyone wearing a dress, take her hand, kiss her gently, look her in the eye, and say with every fiber of confidence in him-
"SNOW! Hey there! Ooooh, bad luck with my sister, isn't it?! Ha hah! Better luck next time!" Ali sucker-punched his train of thought as he slapped the other on the back. He snickered at the other prince as he bit into a chunk of meat on a skewer, dripping with juice and a savory sauce. "Great food, by the way! This meat is hard to come by in my country. One of the perks when we visit!"
"Ali," he groaned as he straightened up. His expression softened when he saw the joy on the other's face, and the slight smear of brown sauce around the edge of his lips. He sighed and shook his head, yet his smile didn't fade. "You're as carefree as ever, I see. What's your excuse? Rather dance with a glazed turkey than a princess? Or were you unable to finish the food you left on your face?"
"Want to taste it, yourself?" Ali leaned in close, waggling his eyebrows. A suggestive, but also joking glimmer was in his eye.
Snow shoved him aside as he rolled his eyes. Still, he smiled.
"We all know why we're here. I'm not the one required to marry anyone right now. In fact, I don't ever have to marry. For your information, in my nation, it's customary to inherit the kingdom through lineage alone. I could never marry for my entire life and choose to bear an heir with a harem girl if I wanted."
"Is that really what you'd want, though?" Snow spoke almost with disappointment in his voice.
"Certainly not, but I doubt I'm going to find the love of my life here, tonight." He bit the last cube of meat from the skewer and swallowed. "Well, enough gorging myself!" Ali tossed the skewer at the closest servant to take away before pushing Snow along, guiding him as he walked.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting us both out of here. What does it look like?"
"Why?"
"You'd rather stay?" Ali raised a brow, and Snow looked back over their shoulder. Everyone was distracted as the dance continued. King Arthur was kept busy by an unnamed company. Huran was entertaining members of the court. Jafar had his eyes on Paribanu, who was on the dance floor. One last scan, and finally, he spotted a gruesome-looking man leaning against the wall. His eyes scanned the floor intensely from across the hall. The bright lights highlighted the raw, pink cuts in his face, making the tender scars shine. It was Snow's retainer. Their eyes met, and Fowler nodded at him with a stern, understanding look. It was his chance to slip away just as he had wanted.
The prince shook his head and relaxed. He sighed again and then gave in. "Lead the way."
"As I thought. Come on!" Ali pushed Snow along, leading right for the entrance to the rose garden. He looked back one last time and caught Jafar staring in their direction. He winked at his vizier and smiled as Jafar turned away. Ali pressed on. Upon exiting the ballroom, they were both greeted by a harsh chill from the evening wind. Well, Ali was. Immediately, his teeth chattered, and he raised both arms over his chest until the air stilled.
Snow only wiped a few snowflakes from his cheek and walked on as though nothing was out of the ordinary for him. He looked over at Ali as they continued down the marble steps to the grounds. "Is this it? You planned to just bring me out here for some fresh air?"
"And a walk. What? Don't have time to catch up with old friends?"
"We're supposed to be enjoying these kinds of festivities with our dates. Besides, aren't you the least bit cold out here?" Normally, yes, people would be enjoying the evening air, but it being the winter ball, snow covered the garden hedges, and frigid winds rolled. Both the princes could see their breath as they spoke.
Come to think of it - why had he ever thought to bring Paribanu out here earlier? Maybe he was as predictable and thoughtless as he seemed. Snow forgot it was the middle of winter until he saw it for himself. Then again, Snow was never affected by the cold the same way others were. It felt like nothing. No stiff joints or red, frozen earlobes. No dry throat or shivering spine. His skin remained fair and smooth. His body felt entirely normal.
In the summertime, the garden was a lush and extravagant place. Hedges were trimmed and sculpted to resemble animals of myth or past kings. Roses of all colors imaginable bloomed and bared their thorns at anyone who dared to pluck them. Games would be held on the large lawn. Birds would sing as they bathed in the fountain. Guests would have cakes and tea in the gazebo as musicians played and artists painted the nobility's portraits.
Yet now, on winter's night, it was a dark and bleak environment. Flowers had long wilted from the frigid cold. Any remaining petals clung to their stems by sheer luck, rotten, shriveled, and discolored. Hedges were dull and gray, topped with thick layers of white. The sculpted shrubberies were overgrown, and branches poked out haphazardly.
The only signs of life in the garden were the two princes walking hand-in-hand over the snow-covered stone path and the faint music from the ballroom behind them.
"I feel fine," Ali said. An obvious lie. Snow could see him starting to shiver. His hand trembled as he gripped tighter around Snow's. A deep breath, and then he felt Ali flex every muscle he was capable of. Within the deepest pits of Ali's chest, a warmth was emitted. It swam through him, soft and slow. Gradually, Ali's body began to heat up.
They continued walking, and Snow, after a moment, removed his gloves to tuck them away in his coat pocket before slipping his hand back into Ali's. They had done this ever since they were children. Now, even as young men, they still held hands whenever they were alone. Snow especially craved it. The moment his fingers laced around Ali's, a glow welled up within him, and a sensation pooled from Ali's body into his own. It started at his fingertips, but gradually made its way up his arm and into his chest. From there, it spread through Snow's whole body, easing him to relax.
Heat.
He could feel it pulsing from Ali every time they shook hands or hugged. Ali was prone to it - gifted with fire magic. Whenever their skin touched, Snow could feel their aura's mix, and it was then he knew what it meant to feel warmth. He'd tried to feel the same sensation with Paribanu, but her magic seemed to work differently than Ali's. She could create and manipulate flames out in the open air, even mold them into a variety of shapes and sizes. Still, she couldn't communicate with it like Ali. His magic connected with anything he touched and ignited it. But with people, it was tethered to something deep inside he couldn't see.
The rules and mechanics of magic were still a mystery to mankind, but there was one thing they were both certain of. When Ali tethered his magic to Snow, they felt as one.
A moment later, it seemed Ali was back in control of himself, no longer shaking or shivering, and Snow relaxed a bit, allowing his shoulders to drop.
"You're still cold," Ali teased as they continued walking.
"Not my fault. I can't help it." And it wasn't. Snow was thought to have been blessed at birth with the gift of ice, but so far, he hadn't shown any mastery of conjuring his alleged powers at all. Most people gifted with magic would explode into it by the time they were teenagers, but for Snow, there was nothing. It had been a few years since he had stopped trying to force it. He had accepted his fate and that his body was just different from others.
"You don't have to. I like it. I like your cold."
His entire life, Snow's skin had been frigid to touch, yet he never showed any sign of discomfort. His body never acted out of the ordinary. Many examinations and mild experiments had been conducted in the past. His blood was naturally colder than any normal human's, but his circulation was undisturbed. His vitals never wavered and were indistinguishable from any other boy his age. It was all normal for him.
"But not cold weather," Snow gave a soft, short chuckle.
They turned down a different path. The music from the grand hall became fainter. The second area of the garden contained a maze of rose hedges and a dining area for afternoon tea. Now, the area was utterly deserted. The hedges were rotting, as they did every winter. Come next spring, a new maze would be designed to entertain guests for hours on end.
"You know, Snow, if you're so hung up on tradition, then by all means, you can be my date for this evening."
Another joke. Snow laughed a bit louder this time. His cheek glowed a shy shade of pink. "Shameless as ever, I see."
They entered the maze and wandered aimlessly.
"Don't tell me you'd rather I'd left you alone in the ballroom. It was pretty obvious you didn't want to be there."
"Yeah. A little. Obvious to everyone except Father." He exhaled and shook his head. Another wave of fog puffed from his lips before he looked over at Ali and pinched his brows together. "How long are you going to let your food sit on your face? You are helpless, I swear." Sauce still stained the edge of Ali's lips.
"Me? Helpless? Weren't you the one who needed me to steal you away from your birthday? Seems like you and I are both helpless."
"I can't deny that, I suppose. Although speaking of my birthday, I don't recall receiving a present from you this year."
"Didn't know what to get you. Besides, I think my sister is more than a fair offering." They turned, reached a dead end, and then turned back.
"Right. Your sister…" Snow's tone dampened.
Ali noticed and paused for a moment, wanting to choose his words carefully. "Snow… I know you don't really love her, but if you ask her, she'll have to say yes. And it'll mean something good for everyone."
"I know…" Eyes forward. Or rather, aimed at the ground. Another turn. Another dead end. Another moment to backtrack.
"Paribanu will have a husband who cares for her, just like Father wishes, and your kingdom will be provided with everything you'll need to stop summer plague from ever being a threat again."
"I know…"
"So what's stopping you?"
"I don't—" He felt himself choke and paused before clearing his throat. "I don't want to marry someone I don't love."
"Snow, sometimes it's not about love. We're royals. We get to live the lives most could only dream about, but at its own cost. It's a miracle if we ever get to marry the person we truly love."
"I know, but…"
"But there's an advantage to this. If you marry her, then we're family. You'll be King. And when my father retires, I'll be Sultan. And then we'll be traveling to each other's kingdoms with trade and alliance. Everyday could be an adventure!"
Despite Ali's high spirits, Snow's seemed to only sink lower. He didn't say anything even as they finally arrived at the center of the maze, where a large gazebo awaited them. It was even darker once under the roof. Normally, at night, the lanterns would be lit, but seeing as no one enjoyed nightly activities in the dead of winter, the oil had since burned out. The only consultation was that the roof had blocked off most of the snow from covering the floor. The wood creaked and rocked under their boots.
Prince Snow, lost in thought, almost slipped until Ali caught him. "Hey! What's gotten into you? Did I really upset you?" he asked as he helped the other to his feet.
"NO! I mean…" Snow shook his head again and looked up into his face, dimmed by the shadows. "I understand what you're saying. I guess…" Hesitation. Snow's throat thickened. Suddenly, it hurt to speak. He swallowed a mouthful of air to try and calm himself and not give away his disappointment any further. "I just always thought I'd be having adventures today, like how we did when we were children or teenagers. I didn't think they'd all come to an end and our adventures would just be… paperwork and signing laws into effect or whatever we're to expect."
"Want me to pull you over the wall right now and sneak into town?"
Snow froze for a second. Being offered a runaway like it was nothing made his heart skip a beat. He wanted nothing more than to go beyond town, stow away on a ship heading to the far eastern continent, and never return. No more expectations. No more responsibilities. And then the reality of it all started to weigh on his conscience. There'd be talks of a scandal. His father would send Fowler after them. Sultan Huran would deploy his own bounty hunters. And Ali wouldn't agree to any of it to begin with.
"You know that won't be possible," he said in a defeated tone.
Ali looked down at Snow, a bit confused. Their hands were still connected, and he could feel the melancholy within the other because of it. He sighed, wanting to shift the mood. "Well, we can't climb over the walls and sneak out on an adventure, but…" Ali was smooth with how he moved. He stepped ahead of Snow and pivoted on his toes, circling his arm around him until his hand found its place on the other's hip. "I could give you a dance right now. You still hear the music, don't you?"
Snow's heart thudded. Ali pressed himself up close to him. Their eyes met, and Snow tensed up again. He felt Ali's leg step between his own, guiding him to lean back. "Gah! A-Ali, come on. Now's not the time for jokes," he said. He was blushing.
"Who said this was a joke?" Ali fixed his eyes on the closest lantern and concentrated. There might not have been oil to burn, but if he fixated his energy around the metal center, then just maybe… He walked towards it, snapped his fingers on the iron framework, and the lantern post lit up. Ali smiled. He looked around the gazebo, and one by one, he set each lantern ablaze.
When he looked back at Snow, he was smiling proudly, but then noticed something peculiar about the other prince. "You know, Snow - it's funny how your skin never turns red from the cold, but you still get flustered and embarrassed." The firelight betrayed the blush on Snow's cheeks. Ali was teasing, tearing through the old fibs that Snow would have told him if given the chance. It didn't work anymore. They weren't children. Now they were becoming young men. "Come on. It's just a dance."
They began. Ali led Snow through the motions, stepping from side to side and spinning around. It was an aimless tango, but one they were both invested in. Ali was watching his movements carefully, making sure not to make turns too wide, or spins and dips too sudden. Snow remained fixated on Ali, not needing to have his eyes on their feet.
Snow found it amusing to see Ali, the more robust and bold of the two, be the one tripping over himself.
It was just a dance. Just a walk in the garden, alone. Just them slipping away from the crowds and their families like always. Just them climbing out of the garden wall to spend the day together on meaningless play activities and calling them adventures. And when it was over, they'd act like nothing had happened, like it was all meaningless.
Not to Snow.
The dance was intimate. The moment was too short. With Ali, everything came naturally. There were no expectations from him, no front to uphold, and no mask to wear. When they were together and alone, Snow felt like his frozen center could melt and yet still be safe. He could laugh. He could smile.
He wanted this to continue longer than it was supposed to. He wanted to be doing this in the ballroom like he was expected to with a princess. He wanted Ali to be the guest of honor instead of Paribanu. He wanted Ali to be the one his father was excited to see him talking to.
Snow's eyes lingered on the other prince's lips. He wanted to… he wanted… to lick that bit of sauce still on his face.
The moment was right. Ali's eyes were cast down. There was an opening. Snow leaned forward, and his lips graced against the corner of Ali's mouth. He traced the tip of his tongue over his skin, gathering it all in one swoop. It was chilled, yet still savory, and had a small kick from the spice that lingered in the back of his throat when he swallowed.
When Snow stepped back the dance had ended, and Ali was just staring at him, confused. He let go of Snow's waist to touch the spot he had licked.
"Erh! Y-you still had sauce on your face and it was distracting so I just—" He paused and remembered his father's words. Any woman would swoon for him. But what about any man? Hesitantly, Snow squeezed the hand Ali still held and slowly got down on one knee. He pressed his chilled lips to the back of Ali's palm and tasted his warmth. The moment lingered as frigid winter winds circled around them, echoing through the air.
Finally, Snow pulled himself away and stood. He was shaking, afraid. But at last, Snow had done what he wanted rather than what others wanted for him. He was scared to look up at the other. Yet as soon as their eyes connected, Ali closed the gap between their faces again and pressed their lips together. It was unexpected, frightening, and left the prince stunned, dazed, and bewildered.
Time stood still.
When Ali pulled himself away, he reached a dark hand to caress Snow's pale cheek and slowly rubbed his thumb over him, tracing under his bottom lip. "Snow…" he hushed.
His hand reached up to clasp around Ali's wrist, brushing back the cuffs of his clothes. "One more." The words slipped out of him as though they were a fleeting thought. He was barely conscious that he had spoken, half thinking he had imagined himself saying it. Yet it was clear Ali had heard him when the other prince's eyes flickered.
"Happy birthday, Snow."
The lanterns went out.
They kissed again, deeper and more passionately than before. Ali tilted his head and slipped his tongue past Snow's lips, tasting him. His hands moved to hold him close, grabbing Snow through his clothes. His fingers began to flip and undo the buttons on Snow's coat and reach in to press against more skin.
"I think I have a gift for you after all…"
Snow couldn't hold himself back. Ali's touch was addictive. His blood boiled with passion. In Ali's arms, he found security, safety, sanctuary - a million different words that all meant the safe thing. He didn't want to have to go back into the ballroom or dance with anyone else. Snow had the only person he needed right in front of him, undressing him on the coldest winter night.
It was magic - a spell that neither of them wanted to let end, even as the clock struck midnight.