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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

The Black Swan

Chapter 12

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 9066

Chapter: 12/17 (All chapters)

Summary: Things are better, but not exactly easier, so they need to talk too.

Read on AO3

AN: Alright, I woke up with a killer headache because God hates me, but I refuse to let my stupid genetics dictate my fics again. This is less of a pressure thing and more a pride thing so please don't feel bad, I'm just a stubborn asshole lol. This is the longest chapter in the fic. Enjoy :D

———————————————

“You,” Penny said, “are in a good mood.”

Simon couldn’t deny that. In fact, he was too busy grinning and skipping down the streets of Watford Town to say anything back. (David was too busy preparing the winter ball to even notice him sneaking out at night or during the day.) He looked at Penny over his shoulder as he caught a pole and swung around. Penny barked out a laugh. “A very good mood.”

Simon tilted his head back. “M-hm.”

Penny leaned against the cobblestone wall, arms crossed and lip corner quirked up. “You were moping around like a depressed kicked puppy just last week, and now you’re smiling brighter than the sun. Something good happened?”

“Yup.” Simon popped the P, staring up into the clear sky. He so wanted to see a particular blackbird up there, but he knew Baz was probably resting. And he’d see Baz tonight, like he had almost every night for two weeks. Nothing would keep him from that lake.

“So, what was it?”

“Hm,” Simon dramatically swung to the other side of the pole, “guess.”

Penny scratched her chin like a thoughtful scholar. “Hm, you ate a really good scone today?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not that.”

“You read a good book?”

“Nope.”

“Beat David in a sword fight?”

Simon scoffed. “I wish.”

Penny raised a brow. Simon had to ask her or Baz one day how they did that. Slowly, her eyes went wider and wider. “Did something happen with Baz?”

Simon bit the corner of his lip. He knew his cheeks were turning red, a now common occurrence since the last time he saw Baz.

“Aha!” Penny pointed right at Simon’s face. “Something happened with your cursed boy!”

Simon smiled wider and swung around the lamp pole with his head tilted back. He knew he looked ridiculous, like some lovesick fool, lost to the thoughts of his sweetheart. Except that’s exactly what he was. Might as well embrace it.

“Well? What happened?” Penny playfully knocked his shoulder. “Don’t just flit around, tell me!”

Simon wasn’t sure how he could explain exactly what happened. It would probably be quite confusing and scary to anyone else. But Simon didn’t want to lie either. It was a fine line to walk.

“Well,” Simon sighed, “turned out I left my wand at the lake that night. Took me way too long to notice, I know. So I went to go get it last week. But then I saw Baz and he was...really upset, so we talked. We figured stuff out, apologised, and now we’re good.” He pressed his burning cheek to the cool metal pole. “Really good.”

The brightness of Penny’s grin only matched the sun. She pinched Simon’s cheek like a proud granny. “Good. I’m very happy for you, Simon.”

Simon rolled his eyes sarcastically and swatted her hand away. “Thank you, Pen.”

He swung around the pole one more time then leaped forward. He was still aware of how ridiculous he looked. A few people were staring, probably wondering who the weirdo prancing around with an idiotic grin was. Luckily his headscarf kept him from being recognised and “embarrassing the royal family”. Not much of a family when the father ignores his adopted son so much, Simon thought, and- no, none of that. Simon refused to think about David. Baz was safe, they were happy, nothing else mattered.

“So what are you two going to do about your engagement then?” Penny asked.

Well, that mattered.

Simon deflated, shoulders slumping as leaned back against a house’s wall. “Right,” he grumbled, “the engagement.”

Penny joined him, arms crossed loosely over her chest. “You forgot about that, didn’t you?”

“No!” Penny fixed him with a look over her spectacles. Simon deflated even more. “Maybe.” He sighed, playing with a errant curl falling from his headscarf. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve been so wrapped up in Baz that I haven’t thought about it. I should’ve...”

“Yeah, it’s good to consider your future betrothal when you start snogging someone.” Her voice was simply oozing with sarcasm. Simon glared, while Penny grinned back. “So what are you going to do, Si? I doubt you’ll want to marry Agatha and see Baz on the side.”

Simon shook his head vigorously. “No, definitely not, that’s horrible.” He fiddled with his scarf. The thing was very useful for nervous tics. “I don’t know, Pen, we’ve both got so much else to deal with first. Baz is still trapped, and cursed. Those come first, right?”

Penny nodded. “Yeah, of course, but you also have to think about what happens after that, Si. Which to be honest, you’re not good at that.”

“I know,” he groaned. “But, what can I do? Agatha would be fine with breaking it off, but David is so set on this marriage because of his stupid lineage and dynasty bollocks. It’s not like David would let me marry Baz instead!” Simon’s face instantly turned bright red. “I-I mean, if Baz wanted get married, that is. He might not like marriage. Plus we’re only nineteen, young and shit...”

Simon flicked his eyes over to Penny. She was smiling with utter fondness, one lip corner quirked up and head tilted to the side. Simon looked down at the ground.

“Shut up,” he mumbled.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you’re still saying stuff! With your eyes and mouth and stuff...” He pulled further into himself. “Don’t like it when you make fun of me.”

“Aw, Si, I’m not making fun of you.” She looped her arm through Simon’s. “I just think you’re adorable.”

Simon was still pouting but leaned against Penny too. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re very welcome. And y’know, maybe we should ask Agatha if she could help with the whole engagement thing. You’re both in the same boat. Maybe she’ll have some idea on how to stop this dumb idea.”

“Hm, good point.” He looked down at her with a small smile. “Thanks, Pen. You’re really smart.”

Penny smugly flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Yes, yes I am. You should tell me that more often.”

Simon rolled his eyes very dramatically. If Penny got to do it, so did he. Penny snuggled even closer to him. But just over her head, something caught his attention. He gasped and poked Penny insistently.

“Pen, Pen!” he said. “Look! Flowers!” She turned where he was pointing. He started pulling her towards the vendor’s cart. “C’mon, I’m seeing Baz tonight, I wanna get him something.”

Penny willingly let herself get dragged her towards the nice man with the flowers. Simon marveled at all the multicoloured blossoms, dragging his fingers over the soft petals. “Which ones do you think Baz would like? He likes black, but there aren’t really any black flowers. These roses are pretty dark, I guess.” He looked over his shoulders at her. “What do you think?”

She had that face again, the one of fond affection. He didn’t get angry this time. Penny wasn’t making fun of him, not in a mean way. She patted his shoulder. “I think dark roses would be lovely for him.”

“Awesome!” He reached into his trousers, where his leftover festival money was. “A rose, please.”

“That will be ten silver pieces, sir.”

Simon’s jaw hit the ground. “Ten silver pieces?! That’s insane!”

The man shrugged. “It’s winter.”

“Not here! We’re in the south, we barely see snow!”

He crossed his arms. “Ten pieces.”

Simon put both hands on the cart. “Seven.”

“Nine.”

“Five.”

“Eight.”

“Four!”

They haggled back and forth for awhile. Just because Simon was a prince now didn’t mean he would be swindled. But in the end he paid six pieces, because he wanted the rose for Baz. And he was even more excited for tonight.

———————————————

“Hi.”

Baz was already standing behind Simon when he turned around. All graceful height and sharp features, wearing his favourite black tunic and dark brown pants. Simon grinned and dropped his bag. He stepped into Baz’s space, throwing his arms around his bony shoulders. Baz instantly held his waist.

“Hi,” Simon sighed. “I missed you.”

Baz chuckled. “You saw me last night”

“Yeah, but I still missed you.” He brushed his nose with Baz’s, a sickeningly cute thing he never saw himself doing before Baz. “I always miss you.”

Baz’s arms tightened, and he smiled against Simon’s cheek. “I always miss you too.”

Simon could feel every beat of his excited heart sync up with Baz’s. He tilted his head to capture Baz’s mouth in his. They had gotten stupidly good at kissing over the past week and a half. Or maybe they were only good at kissing each other. Simon didn’t care. He wasn’t planning on kissing anyone except Baz anytime soon. Or probably ever. He wanted Baz to be it for him, and that desire only got stronger when Baz used his tongue like that.

They separated their mouths with a sigh, but hugged each other for a bit longer. The two boys were always reluctant to let go of each other. But eventually they had to part so they could see each other’s faces. Simon reached into his bag and pulled out the rose. He shoved in Baz’s face a bit too forcefully, making the other boy stumble back.

“Here,” Simon said. “I got this for you.”

Baz carefully took the flower, fingers curling around the stem. His lips were slightly parted in awe. He took a deep sniff and smiled softly, eyes meeting Simon’s. “It’s lovely, Simon. Thank you.”

Simon squeezed his hand. “You’re really welcome.”

Baz slipped the rose behind his ear, a burst of crimson against a backdrop of wavy raven hair. He tugged Simon towards the lake. “C’mon, let’s sit.”

They sat next to each other on the shore. One of Baz’s swan friends waddled up to them and put it’s head in Baz’s lap. They had gotten even more cuddly lately. Simon swore they were being possessive since he and Baz got together. Baz told him swans weren’t that smart and Simon didn’t have to be jealous of a bird. Simon had pouted angrily, which Baz had happily kissed away.

Simon leaned on Baz’s shoulder, clutching his arm close. “So how are you?”

“Just as well as I was doing yesterday,” Baz chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, stop being a smartass and answer the question, smartass.”

“You said smartass twice.” Simon pinched his wrist a little harder than was necessary. Baz snickered and lightly kissed the top of Simon’s head. “I’m good, love. I’ve been enjoying the spell books you brought me.”

Simon perked up. He’d left that book with Baz to give him a start with magic. Maybe they’d try that weird magic sharing trick again, but not until Baz got a handle on spells on his own. “Really? How’s it going?”

A devilish grin spread over his face, very pleased with himself. “Let me show you.”

Baz hopped to his feet and dashed to the cottage. (His swan friend honked and waddled back to the lake with annoyance.) He pulled Simon’s wand out from a bush next to the door. He stood a few feet from Simon, wand perfectly held in his long fingers.

“Inferno,” he said, voice practically dripping with power. It was scary how easily he spoke with magic. Simon would call him a prodigy if he had any authority on how good people were at magic.

Fire started spilling from the tip of the wand. Baz slowly moved it, tracing a swirling pattern in front of him. The fire stayed in solid, controlled lines as it danced across the air. Simon was captivated by every graceful movement. Soon, Baz had created an intricate lattice of flames. He twisted the wand off with a flourish, and the fire stayed, burning in place. Simon’s mouth hung open. It was truly a sight to behold.

“Whoa,” he whispered. “That’s incredible.”

Baz eyes were lit up by the fire. He looked so pleased, so excited. It was quite a far cry from the way he’d flinched when Simon had first told him he was a mage. Simon loved being around magic, sure, but he was never good at it. He could tell Baz enjoyed doing magic in a way Simon never had.

“And now...” Baz waved the wand again. “A storm upon us!”

The fire vines exploded into a rain of orange sparks. They rained down on Simon like a shower of stars, not burning his skin, thank the gods. He let out a breathy laugh, catching bits of orange flecks in his hands.

“Amazing, Baz, that’s amazing.”

Baz took a deep, sarcastic bow. “Why, thank you, good sir.”

Simon wrapped his fingers around Baz’s delicate wrist and pulled him back down to the ground, kneeling in front of him. “No, really, it’s great. You’re getting way better. You’ll be casting circles around everyone in no time.”

Baz’s smirk morphed into a genuinely bashful smile. “Thank you, Simon. And thank you for giving me your wand.”

“I was happy to. You’re getting way more use out of it than I ever did. And it seems to like you more.”

Baz shrugged. “I suppose it has good taste.”

Simon shoved his shoulder. “Arsehole!”

Baz laughed, loudly and freely. He grabbed Simon’s arm and pulled him forward into a deep kiss, other hand cupping his cheek. Simon felt every single one of his bones melt. It was almost scary how quickly Simon fell apart under Baz’s mouth. How the rest of the world disappeared into dust every single time they kissed. Penny said that being in love could hurt. Simon supposed this was the good, not hurting part of it. And he liked it a lot.

They separated with a sigh. Simon turned around and leaned his head on Baz’s bony shoulder. Baz’s arms wrapped around his torso, pulling Simon until his back was pressed to Baz’s chest, long legs stretched out next to him. Simon felt safe here, Baz holding him close like he was the most important thing in the world.

“Are we asking questions now?” Baz said quietly. Simon shrugged, and Baz laughed. “Half your sentences are still shrugs.”

Simon pinched his wrist again. “You understand me just fine.”

“Hm, fair.” He snuggled closer, nose pressed into Simon’s shoulder “So are we asking things now?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Wanna go first?”

“Sure.” His arms tightened around Simon’s waist. “What’s it like being a prince?”

Simon’s eyes flew open, chest suddenly feeling quite tight. That was...not something he’d expected to be asked. They had been avoiding any deep discussion on the whole royalty subject since the first kiss. Sure, Simon mentioned getting bogged down by royal homework, but that was the extent of it. Which was somehow way more discussed than how to break the curse...

“Um,” Simon said as he scratched the back of his hands, “I don’t know. It’s...a lot of things. It’s better than the orphanage, and definitely better than the street. More food, better bed, not being cold all the time. I like that a lot. I wish all the people who grew up like me had that. But it’s also...weird. I’m supposed to rule the kingdom one day, but I really have no idea how. Like, even after so many books, when I’m given an policy problem I still don’t know what to do. I just never feel like I’m as smart or important as I’m supposed to be.”

Baz kissed the shell of his ear. “I think you’re smart and important,” he whispered.

Simon’s body felt like he was rising up and falling through the world all at once. He pressed his nose against Baz’s cheek. “Thanks, love. That means a lot. Honestly, I just, don’t have a head for it. And I don’t like how people treat me either.”

“How would that be?”

“Well, most people are either they’re afraid of me because I’m a prince, or they look down on me because they don’t think I should be a prince, being common born and all.”

“That doesn’t sound fun.”

Simon chuckled. “No, it’s not. It would be worth it if I was any good at...prince-ing and shit, and I wanted to rule. But I’m not and I don’t. David tries but hasn’t had any luck. He can teach me and even make my name all royal but it doesn’t make me a good future ruler.”

Baz craned his neck, letting Simon see his furrowed brow. “Your name? What do you mean?”

“Oh. I had a different last name, before I was a prince. It was written on my arm when I was left at the orphanage. But when David adopted me, he made me change it to his name. Said it was part of my past and I ‘needed to look my future.’ Which I guess is right, but still, it was my name for a long time...”

“What was it? Your name?”

Simon shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t laugh please?”

Baz raised an eyebrow. “Okay...”

Simon took another deep breath, fresh air filling his lungs and calming his nerves. “It was Snow. My name was Simon Snow.”

Everything was quiet for a moment. The only sounds were the whistling wind and the swans paddling in the lake. Simon didn’t dare look at Baz’s face. He wasn’t sure what his face would be. But when Baz let out a snorty laugh though, he knew exactly what his face looked like.

Simon elbowed Baz in the stomach and tried to wrangle out of Baz’s arms. “You said you wouldn’t laugh, you bastard! Fuck off, let me go!”

As a matter of fact, Baz did not let Simon go. He kept his arms tight around him and pressed giggling kisses to Simon’s neck. Which, much to Simon’s chagrin, did make him calm down. Fuck, it made him practically melt into the ground. Damn Baz and his stupidly wonderful mouth.

“I’m not laughing at you, love,” he whispered into Simon’s tawny skin. “It’s just...an incredibly adorable name.” He kissed the mole on Simon’s neck. He tended to treat it like a target. “Simon Snow is an incredible name. David should’ve let you keep it.”

Simon finally relaxed, leaning into Baz again. “Thanks, love. I wish I could’ve kept it too.”

Baz nosed just under Simon’s jaw. “You could still have it.”

“Hm?”

“I mean,” Baz squeezed him just a bit tighter, “I can certainly call you after a cold weather phenomenon that we barely see in our part of the country.”

“Arsehole,” Simon muttered, trying to elbow Baz again. But when Baz kissed his mole again, he went limp. Damn Baz for finding his weakness.

Baz hummed against his skin. “I’m serious. It’s a good name. I’ll happily call you Simon Snow.”

Simon’s heart felt like it was growing in his chest, so it could contain all the incredible feelings he was having. The gratitude, the affection, the deep love he had for Baz that he’d never felt for anyone ever before. The kind of love that maybe could maybe break a curse.

Simon pressed his lips to Baz’s temple. Just the shortest peck that he hoped conveyed all his feelings. “I think I’d like that.” he whispered.

Baz kissed his temple in return. “Good to know, Snow.”

Simon groaned at that goddamn rhyme. “Okay, now I’m regretting telling you.”

“Too late, Snow, you already did.”

He groaned again, and Baz silenced him with another deep kiss. He weaved his fingers into Simon’s hair, tugging lightly on the curls. Simon gasped into Baz’s mouth. That was another weakness Simon never knew he had before this relationship. He worked his hand behind Baz’s neck, rubbing his fingers over his smooth skin, and Baz shuddered. Baz had his own weaknesses, and Simon was eager to learn and exploit them happily.

Baz then buried his face back in Simon’s shoulder. Simon looped his arm around to run his finger through Baz’s soft hair.

“Is it my turn to ask?” Simon said.

“Mhm,” Baz mumbled into his tunic. “Ask away, Snow.”

Simon sighed, because groans felt like too much effort right now. “Alright.”

Simon twisted his lips, rattling his brain for a question. Deep down, he wanted to ask about Swan Lake, but he felt like Baz would bring it up if he wanted. He had the book, he could bring it up when he felt ready. Simon didn’t want to risk bringing it up and Baz shutting down or yelling at him. But there was another thing he could ask.

“What do you want to do?” he asked. “When your curse is broken, what do you want to do?”

Baz went very, very still. Like how Simon did before, but worse. His arms fell away from Simon’s waist, which had Simon very worried. He spun around to face Baz. His pretty, sharp face was almost stone. Though his lips kept going in and out, pulling between his teeth then pushing out. Simon knew immediately he had said the wrong thing.

Simon put his hands over Baz’s. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, I-”

“No, no, it’s not a bad question,” Baz said. “It just brings up things I’ve been feeling for awhile. Things I should probably tell you.”

Simon shuffled closer, trying to ignore the nervous beat in his chest. “O-Okay. You can tell me anything, it’s okay.”

Baz sighed and squeezed Simon’s hands. “Simon, let me be clear, I do want to be free of this lake and go to all the places I fly over. But...” Simon braced himself for what came after that but. “But ever since you told me you were going to break the curse, I’ve been thinking about...where am I going to go?” Simon’s heart sank to the ground at Baz’s tiny, almost broken voice. “This lake is all I’ve known for most of my life. I don’t know if I have family out there, anyone who would take me in once I’m out of here. I don’t even have a last name to track them down with. Am I just going to wander the streets, telling the stories of my former cursed life for coins?” He somehow sighed and chuckled at the same time. “I don’t know. Breaking the curse is important, but I’m wondering about the after too.”

Simon had gotten used to feeling like an idiot throughout his life. But now felt like his crowning achievement of stupidity. And he felt even worse for making it about himself in his head. Of course Baz would be worried about where he was going to go after. He always thought ahead, unlike Simon. He focused on breaking the curse and setting Baz free, full stop, nothing else after. That wasn’t right. Baz would still be around after the curse.

“Right,” Simon blurted out. “Right, right, t-that makes sense. You’re right. I’m sorry I never brought it up, that matters a lot. You’re going to have to live somewhere after here. Have clothes and money and a job and-”

“Simon,” Baz sighed, bringing their hands up between them. “It’s alright, stop babbling.”

Simon looked at the ground. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Snow, I just need you to calm down and listen to me, please.”

“O-Okay.”

Baz tilted his chin up with one hand. To Simon’s surprise, he didn’t look mad. Simon would be mad. But Baz wasn’t, he just had that forlorn half smile.

“Simon,” he said softly, “you don’t need to panic. I’m not mad at you, alright? You’ve been helping me so much, and I’m grateful for that. I just think we also need to think about where I’m going to go when I’m free too.”

Simon nodded, weaving his fingers with Baz’s. “Yeah, yeah, okay, we definitely should.” A playful smile pulled at his mouth. “Maybe you could come live at the castle with me.”

Baz chuckled, shaking his head. “What, just show up one day and tell the king you’ve brought home a nameless stray?”

“You’re not nameless.”

“I’m lacking a last name.”

“That doesn’t make you a nameless stray. You’re still important.”

Baz’s face softened. He brought a hand to Simon’s face, cupping his jaw and running a thumb under his eye. “Thank you, Simon.” He kissed the corner of Simon’s mouth, electric jolts flying through the Simon’s skin. “But still,” he sighed, “I don’t think you can just bring me to the castle. You said the court already has their problems with you. I would add to them.”

Simon grumbled. He knew Baz had a point, even if he didn’t like it. Part of him wanted to propose to him right then and there. David would have to accept a betrothed, right? Except he was still a prince, who was about to be engaged to a noble lady. All that was still in the way.

“Maybe,” Simon said slowly, “we could try to find Vera? I mean, she raised you for eight years. She might be willing to help.”

Baz twisted his mouth, finger drumming on the back of Simon’s hand. “Maybe. But I have no clue where she went after I was cursed. He put the curse on me, I passed out, and when I woke up, she was gone. He probably put a spell on her memory too. Doubt I could walk up to her like, ‘hello, Vera!’, and she’ll reply, ‘oh hello, little puff, you’ve gotten so tall!’”

Simon froze, every muscle locking while his vision spun. Baz was still laughing to himself, but Simon didn’t hear him. His head was buzzing with distant memories from his restless nights. And how different they were now.

“What did you say?” Simon asked quietly.

Baz quickly stopped laughing. His brow furrowed at Simon’s dumbstruck expression. “What? ‘You’re so tall’? I have grown a lot since I was thirteen.”

Simon shook his head vigorously. “No, no before that. What did Vera call you?”

“You mean ‘little puff’? It’s ridiculous, I know. It was just a silly pet name she had for me.”

“And she called you that? A lot?”

“Um, yes.” Baz’s hands moved up Simon’s forearms, grip strong and comforting. “Are you alright, Snow? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Simon gulped. He flexed his hands, trying to build up his nerves. But he felt them crumble with every swipe of Baz’s fingers on his skin. Eventually he realised he’d never had enough nerve, but he had to do this anyway. Baz deserved to know, especially if this was about him.

“Okay,” Simon said, trying to will his voice steady, “I need you to listen to me and try not to judge me. Because you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’m not. And you need to hear this.”

Baz blinked many times. He was still holding Simon, but his body pulled away slightly. “O...kay?”

Simon nodded, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth. He told Baz of his dreams, in the order Simon was pretty sure it actually happened. He focused on the big parts, since details were lost in the dream’s haze. Baz was obviously trying to stay calm, but Simon could feel his grip tightening on Simon’s hips, and saw his grey eyes slowly getting bigger. It made sense. This was a grip tightening, eyes widening worthy sort of story in Simon’s opinion.

“And the thing about all this is...” Simon took a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut. “When the boy is first looking for his mum, he talks to another woman, and she calls the boy ‘little puff.’ S-So...now I’m thinking the boy, he might be...you. And I’m seeing your past.”

Simon slowly opened one eye. Baz was staring at him, lips slightly open, blinking slowly. His hands fell from Simon’s waist, and Simon’s heart stuttered in fear. Part of him was terrified he’d hurt Baz. He never wanted to hurt Baz. He thought Baz deserved to know, but from the look on his face, maybe he didn’t want to.

“Are you sure she said that? Little puff?” Baz asked. Simon nodded slowly. “It wasn’t something else?”

“I-It’s a pretty distinctive nickname...”

“Yes, it is, I suppose.” He chewed on his bottom lip, face pinched together in pain or worry or anger. Simon couldn’t tell. “And you’re sure you saw a lot of fire? Like the whole world was burning?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m sure.” Baz’s face tensed even more. Simon grabbed his shoulders. “But maybe she didn’t say ‘little puff’. I-I could be wrong. Dreams are weird, I might be misremembering.”

Baz pressed a finger to his lips, instantly halting Simon’s stuttering speech. “No, it’s not like that, Simon. I’m not upset because it might be me. I’m just surprised, because...I’ve dreamed of some similar things.”

Simon’s eye nearly popped out of his skull. His grip on Baz’s shoulder tightened. “Really?”

Baz nodded, hands moving to Simon’s waist, trailing up and down his sides. “I’ve had nightmares all my life. They feature a lot of fire and running from fire, along with some other vague things. I always thought it was just deep seated fears coming up in sleep. But if you saw the same things along with hearing ‘little puff’ in these dreams, maybe I’m actually remembering my life before here. I don’t know, it could be a coincidence. We might not be dreaming of the same things.”

An idea instantly came into Simon’s head. “Wait, hang on.”

Simon extracted himself from Baz’s embrace and dashed to his rucksack. He pulled his leather bound, now almost full sketchbook. When he turned back, Baz was looking at him very, very confused. Simon cautiously sat in front of him cross legged, close, but not as close as they usually were now. Simon wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to be now.

“Here, look,” he said, flipping to the right page, “I drew what I saw in the dreams. Does any of this look familiar?”

Baz slowly flipped through the pages. Most of it was there. The boy playing with puzzle, the woman who called him little puff, walking down the large corridor with banners and paintings, the tunnel of flames, running through the fire, seeing the mother being choked by the man, and ending with boy watching his home burn down from over the man’s shoulder. Baz examined each image with his careful, inquisitive eyes. Slowly, his head started nodding.

“Okay,” he said quietly, “this all does feel distantly familiar. Maybe it really is my past.” He looked up at Simon, perfect brows pulled together. “And you’ve been seeing all this through visions? That’s a thing?”

“Yeah, it is, sort of. Some mages can get flashes from the future in dreams, and sometimes they can be of the past. It’s rare but it happens. My magic is...weird. It might be letting me see the past. Your past...”

Baz traced a finger over the page. “That makes sense, I suppose.” He stopped at the shadowed face of the mother, struggling to breath under the man’s arm. “So, it seems I did have a mother. She’s just already dead...”

Simon went to his knees and shuffled forward, placing a hand on Baz’s knee. “W-We don’t know that for sure. You apparently lived, maybe she did too. Maybe-”

“Simon,” Baz sighed. The look on his face was sad, tired, and Simon unfortunately knew exactly what he meant. He understood. False hope was a far too dangerous thing. Simon moved his hand up Baz’s arm, hoping his touch offered the same comfort he felt from Baz’s.

“I’m sorry, Baz,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Baz rubbed his lips together, mustering up the words. “I...I’m not sure what’s better or worse; wondering if I even had a family before, or knowing for sure I did but they’re gone.”

“You don’t know they're all gone,” Simon blurted out. “You don’t know if your mother was your only family. Maybe you have a father, or grandparents, or other relatives.”

“Then why haven’t they come looking for me?!”

Baz’s voice was vicious, filled to the brim with venom. He wasn’t being reasonable, obviously. He was smart, he must know that. No one would think to look for their missing child in a hidden lake in the middle of the Forbidden Lands. But Baz wasn’t being reasonable right now. He was twisted up in anger, hurt, and obviously a monumental amount of sadness. Most of all, he probably felt abandoned. How could he not?

Simon cupped his cheek. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “It’s okay that you’re not.”

Baz let out a breathy chuckle. “You’ve said that before.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

Baz nodded, a morose sort of acceptance in the motion. “I know. Thank you, love.”

Simon lowered his forehead onto Baz’s, eyes closed. Baz did the same, hand curled around the back of his neck. Simon could feel Baz’s breathing and pulse calm down under his touch. That made him glad. He didn’t want Baz to be upset. He wanted Baz to be happy too. Maybe he could...

“Baz,” he said softly, pulling back a bit, “I can do something, but only if you want.”

Baz cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? You have to tell me before I can agree.”

Simon flushed, resisting temptation to flick him in the face. “Yeah, I know. What I mean Baz is...I can look for your family. Try to find them for you.”

Baz’s eyes went so wide they looked like glassy full moons. “You can really do that?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re a mage, and the crown keeps are records and stuff on mages. And there are a lot of mage families, sure, but how many had a woman die in a fire where her five year old kid also went missing? Your past really narrows things down, actually.”

He blew air out of his nose, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. “I suppose it’s a pretty unique situation”

Simon nodded with his own tiny smile. “Yeah, exactly.” He cupped Baz’s beautiful, sharp face with both hands. “Do you want me to look? I won’t if you don’t want me too. But, it could mean finding somewhere for you to go, when you’re uncursed.”

Baz placed his hands over Simon’s, eyes squeezed shut. Simon wondered what was tumbling through that big brain of his. Part of him wanted to ask Baz about Swan Lake, wondering if Baz would let him try to break it the way Siegfried had tried. But Baz said he wanted somewhere to go. Maybe they had to deal with that first before Simon even asked about breaking it.

Finally, Baz nodded, some of the tension leaving his face. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Simon pushed closer.

“Okay, you can look for...my family, if they’re around.”

Simon grinned. His heart was beating in his ears with happiness. He wrapped his arms around Baz in a crushing hug. “I’ll find them, Baz. I’ll find them for you.”

Baz hugged him back, one hand pressing the sketchbook hard into the small of Simon’s back and the other woven through his curls. He didn’t speak for awhile, just clutched Simon to him. And Simon let him. He’d let Baz hold him forever if he needed to.

“You draw me?”

Simon’s eyes flew open. He whipped his head around over his shoulder. Baz had Simon’s sketchbook open to a sketch of himself. It was incredibly detailed of course, making it obvious Simon had spent hours dedicated to drawing Baz’s face. Simon’s cheeks immediately went bright red. Embarrassment was always his first instinct with art, especially since this one was more detailed than his rough nightmare sketches.

But then he looked at Baz. Baz’s eyes were wide, his thin lips slightly open in wonderment. He was...impressed. And suddenly, Simon’s embarrassment faded, replaced with a sense of pride he’d never really felt for his art before.

“Um, yeah,” he said, voice still a bit shaky. “I do, sometimes.”

Baz’s own face went red. “Huh, well, it’s uh, it’s quite good. You’re good.”

Simon grinned ear to ear. There was something satisfying about making sharp tongued, clever Baz stumble for his words. He kissed Baz’s flushed cheek. “Well, you’re fun to draw.”

Baz chuckled. “Well, maybe I can be a painting model once I’m out of here.”

“Mm, you’d be a good one.”

“Maybe you have a point.” He flipped to a few other pages. “Hm, you draw me quite a bit. You think I’m that pretty?”

Simon snorted and twisted himself around, head once again on Baz’s bony shoulder. “Good Gods, you need me to stroke your ego even more?”

“Well, it would be nice.”

Simon rolled his eyes, a perfect Baz imitation. “Arrogant prat.”

Baz laughed as he kissed Simon’s neck, making Simon melt once again. “An arrogant prat you draw all the time.”

Yeah, Simon thought, because I love you. And the second I find your family, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell the world and set you free. He tilted his head and pressed his mouth to Baz’s. Baz sighed and leaned into it. Part of Simon wondered if he’d ever get tired of kissing Baz, if it was even possible to get sick of the incredible feeling of Baz’s lips on his. If that was going to happen, it wasn’t happening anytime soon.

Simon pulled away and spun around, back to leaning on Baz’s chest. Baz kept one arm around his waist while holding the sketchbook in his other hand. He flipped to another page with a flick on his thumb. It was of the palace grounds at sunrise, with Ebb in the foreground, standing with her goats. Baz tapped her charcoal silhouette.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“Ebb, she’s a friend,” Simon said.

“Is she herding the goats?”

“Yeah. She’s the goat herd on the grounds. I talk to her all the time.”

“You’re friends with the palace goat herd?”

“M-hm.” He furrowed his brow. “Is that weird?”

“No, of course not. It’s just...very you.” Simon wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. But considering the way he nuzzled Simon’s with his nose, he guessed it was a good thing. “Want to tell me more about her? Your friend Ebb the goatherd?”

“Uh, sure, if you wanna hear about her.”

“Of course. I’d like to know all about the friends of the man I’m snogging.”

Simon groaned, head falling back on Baz’s shoulder. “Wish I’d never taught you that word.”

Baz grinned against his cheek. “But you did, Snow.”

Simon groaned again while Baz howled with smug laughter, filling the whole lake with that glorious sound. Simon kissed him again to shut him up again, and of course it worked. When they parted again, they kept looking through Simon’s sketchbook together. He told Baz about the different landscapes he’d drawn, about the abstract doodles from avoiding homework, about Agatha and Penny, whose portraits of course were in there. And Baz listened to every word.

———————————————

Simon thought after the solstice festival, he was good at dancing. But it seemed he was good at dancing with Baz and absolutely no one else. Considering how many times he’d stomped on Agatha’s toes.

“Ouch,” Agatha hissed.

“Sorry,” Simon said.

“It’s alright, S- your highness.”

“Try again,” David said from his place above them on the dais. Lady Wellbelove stood beside him, all proper and stern, except for the smallest smile on her lips. She was obviously amused but couldn’t let the perturbed King know.

Simon nodded and David signaled the one violinist he’d brought to start the dance tune again. The notes drifted through the air, and the pair of teenagers started again. Their feet moved slowly but surely on the marble floor. Simon tried to picture Baz in front of him instead of Agatha in hopes it would make him better. But he still clipped her toes with every other step, then stumbled and stepped on them some more. Eventually, David let out a long sigh, and waved at the violinist to stop.

“Enough,” he groaned. “This is becoming embarrassing.”

Simon stepped away from Agatha, looking at the floor, hands clasped behind his back. “Apologies, Father.”

“What have I told you, Simon? Don’t apologise, do better. And I expect you to be better by the winter ball, understood?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. Now escort the young Lady Wellbelove back to her guest room.”

“Of course.”

Simon offered his arm to Agatha, which she graciously took. They bowed deeply to Lady Wellbelove and the King, then took their leave out the grand double doors. The second they were out of view, Simon and Agatha let go of the stupid noble pose. They held hands like the old friends they were. Agatha even wrapped her other hand around Simon’s upper arm. And Simon knew this was how they were truly meant to be.

“Good Lord,” Agatha sighed, “that was hellish. Is that what David is like when he teaches?”

Simon chuckled, leaning his cheek on Agatha’s head. “Most of the time, yeah.”

“Ugh, what a nightmare. I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“Neither do I. How are you, Aggie?”

She made a strange noise of discontent. “I’m alright. But I’m not looking forward to this damn ball.”

“You’re not alone in that feeling, Ags.” Simon bit the corner of his bottom lip. “And...there’s another reason for that too now...” He internally groaned at his phrasing. He wanted to tell Agatha about Baz, but he didn’t meant to bring it up in such a stupid sounding way.

Agatha raised her eyebrow. (How was everyone except Simon able to do that perfectly?) “Oh and why would that be?”

Simon placed his hand over her’s on his arm. He chewed his bottom lip even more furiously. “Well, remember that drawing of my friend you saw?”

“Of course. He was so pretty.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “he certainly is.” He scratched nervously at the back of his neck, chewing at his lip. He wasn’t sure how to say this, but might as well five straight in. “And you were, uh, you were right about him. How I...feel about him that is. And he feels the same.”

Agatha gasped, then made a sound so high pitched only hounds would be able to hear her. Simon winced but still smiled. No matter how painful her sounds were, Simon was glad that she was excited for him.

“Simon! That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!” She captured him in a fierce side hug, forcing Simon to halt as she squeezed him tight. Luckily there was no one else around. He patted her hand.

“Thanks, Ags.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you worked that all out, Si.” They went back to hand holding, Agatha’s cheek pressed into his shoulder. “So you’re happy?”

He leaned on her head again, soft blonde hair tickling his skin. “Yeah, definitely. Which...” he sighed, “is the other reason this engagement sucks.”

Agatha groaned, a very unladylike sound that would leave her mother clutching her pearls. “Ugh, yeah. As if we needed another one.”

“True enough. Penny says we should work together to try to stop it.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Simon shrugged up to his ears. Agatha sighed and pulled him closer. “Yeah, I don’t have great ideas either. It’s not easy fighting a king. I don’t know, I could talk to my parents. They’re getting frustrated with demanding Davy.”

“Really? He’s being that bad?”

Agatha nodded with a deep scowl. “Oh yeah. He wants to control all the terms of the engagement and marriage. And he’s being very stingy on the dowry. It’s ridiculous. My parents would be screaming at him if he wasn’t the King.”

“Good gods,” he groaned, “didn’t know he was being that bad. Maybe you can convince them to drop all the engagement stuff.”

“I bloody well hope so, for all our sakes.” She squeezed his arm once with a sigh. “Personally, I think you should just run off into the sunset with your lover.”

Simon barked out a laugh. “Yeah, no. David would send the entire army after us before we hit the Watford Town border. And don’t say ‘lover’, that’s a weird word.”

“What else am I supposed to call him? Partner? Pretty boy? Your secret snog?”

Simon rolled his eyes while Agatha snickered. “I don’t know, just not ‘lover’. That’s makes us sound like some shit romance book characters.”

“Hey, fuck off, I love romance books.” She knocked his shoulder, he knocked back, and they giggled to themselves in the echoey halls.

They finally reached Agatha’s guest room, stopping in front of the grand wooden door. Agatha faced him and held both his hands. “I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy, Si. I hope we can find a way for you two to be together.”

Simon squeezed her hands. “Thanks, Ags. I hope we can both get out of his bollocks. You deserve to be happy too.”

Agatha’s grin was bright, rivaling the sun. She leaned up and lightly kissed Simon’s cheek. He kissed hers in return. Once the door was shut, Simon made a beeline for the royal library. If the Mage family records were going to be anywhere, they’d be there.

———————————————

Simon groaned as his forehead fell on the table. The thunk echoed loud in the empty, dark room. The books were spread out around him like an explosion of uselessness. His single candle was down to a dark orange glow. It would be pitch black soon, and Simon still hadn’t found anything.

“Hello? Someone still in here?”

Simon’s head snapped up. He recognised that voice. “I am, Ebb. What are you doing up here?”

Ebb stepped out from behind a bookcase. She was in her usual sweater and holding a candle. Her smile rivaled the brightness of the flame when she saw Simon.

“Good evening, Simon,” she said. “The King sometimes asks me to do a quick sweep of the wings before bed, since I’m up late anyways. I was curious about the sound, but I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“It’s fine, I’m just...reading.” With no success, he grumbled internally.

“Yes, I can certainly see that. Your candle is burning low, want me to guide you back to your room?”

Simon shook his head and weakly waved his hand. “No no, it’s fine. I still have more reading to do. I’ll find my own way back later.” He looked at his pathetic nug on a candle. “Well, after I find a new candle. There are more in the upstairs cupboards, right?”

Ebb gave him a sort of withering look. Simon was used to that expression. He guessed it was some sort of odd mix between proud and exasperated. She reached down and switched their candle holders, taking the almost dead one.

“Here,” she said softly, “Have mine. You’ll be able to read longer.”

Simon looked up at her with wide eyes. “N-No, it’s alright, you don’t-”

“Please,” she waved her hand dismissively, “I’m going to bed soon anyway. It’s my pleasure, Simon.”

“You-you don’t have to,” he sputtered. “If it’s just because I’m the prince...”

“Oh come on, Simon, you know me. I don’t care for that bollocks.” She reached forward and touched his hand. Simon almost jolted away on instinct, but stayed, because her fingers were calloused and warm and kind. Simon wished more people in and out of the castle were willing to treat him like this, like a friend. “Let’s call it a repayment for all the times you kept me company with the kiddies.”

Simon opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again. He just smiled at her. “Thank you, Ebb.”

She smiled and nodded back. “You’re welcome, love.”

They nodded at each other, and she left, a dim glow fading into the darkness. And Simon was once again alone.

He looked back down at his books, and groaned again. All these big fancy books with big fancy words, and not a single useful thing in them. There was nothing about the death of a mage woman in a fire or a missing child, or even the two events happening close together. In fact, the mage family records had nothing about children named Basil or Baz. Not even kids with names starting with a B. It was ridiculous. Simon assumed this would be simple. Obviously, he had been very, very naive.

“Maybe there’s more in the back,” he mumbled to himself,

He snatched up his candle and ventured back into the dark tunnels of the shelves. They felt particularly looming at night. Like towering mountains of fine dark wood and old leather. Simon didn’t get scared that often, really, but it was hard to not be scared when he was alone in the dark. He wished Baz was here, holding his hand, whispering soft words to him. He always felt safe with Baz.

Simon hadn’t ventured this deep into library yet, but he’d cleared off all the other shelves, so this was his last, desperate option. He hovered the candle over the book spines. They were extremely dusty. Obviously no one had been here in ages, and it was no wonder. These books looked even more boring than usual. Lots of stuff about farming and old kingdom maps. Simon searched for keywords. “Records”, “histories”, “family tree”, “tragedies”, but there was nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing

Simon felt stupidly desperate. He looked for something, anything that might tell him about mage families. He scanned without thought, eyes flying over the books. Suddenly, his eyes fixed on a slim volume. It looked newer than everything else, and there was no dust on the shelf in front of it. Maybe someone else took this book a lot. Maybe it was useful. Simon immediately grabbed it. He pulled it forward, and something nicked his finger.

“Ouch!” he yelled, voice echoey in the large, empty room. He looked down at his finger. Blood welled from the tip. Simon frowned and put it to his mouth. It wasn’t very effective but it at least made him feel better. (That was about half of Simon’s life, honestly.)

And then there was a loud click.

Simon took three huge steps away, back pressed firmly against the opposite shelf. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “What the fuck?” he hissed.

There was some more loud clicking and clunking of a large mechanism. Simon was frozen as he listened to hidden gears turning. They groaned like a giant ogre. (Or what Simon assumed a giant ogre sounded like.) But just as suddenly as it started, it stopped, leaving Simon in a brief reprieve of silence, save for his panicked breaths. Even weirder, the shelf just to his left started creaking. He swept his candle over to it. His eyes went wide. The shelf had moved. It was slightly pushed in. Simon slowly stepped forward, and pushed on it lightly. It went in even more, and Simon saw the glint of something just beyond it.

“What?” he whispered.

Curiosity overwhelmed him. He pushed harder, and the whole shelf moved inwards. Simon brought his candle further in. His eyes went unbelievably wide. The candlelight illuminated parts of the floor, where what could only be described as treasures were spread out. Golden candelabras, fine china plates, brass sculptures, ornamental pieces that belonged on manor walls, not store in a hidden strange cupboard. Simon walked past all these beautiful pieces, his jaw falling further and further with every step.

“What in the Gods’ names is all this?” he asid, voice loud in the tiny room.

Something caught his eye. It wasn’t metal or china, it was bright and colourful. Simon went to his knees in front of it. He lifted his candle higher, looking over the whole thing. The light showed what was obviously a chipped picture frame containing a vibrantly coloured portrait. It looked beautiful but far too small. Like it had been magically shrunk to something hand sized. Simon picked it up and blew the dust off. He looked closely, narrowing his eyes.

There were two people in it, a woman and a little boy. They were dressed in fancy clothing with lots of embroidery and jewels. The woman sat on a plush red chair, back perfectly straight, head held high. She was graced with tumbling dark curls and a tiara made of brilliant silver and rubies. Her dress was the same shade deep blood red as the chair with intricate swirls of black. She wasn’t smiling, because no one smiled in portraits. Simon had learned that very well when his portrait was done. But she didn’t look sad. She looked strong, elegant, powerful.

The boy on her lap was clearly her son, or at least had some relation to her. Their matching skin tones and hair colour made that clear. He was young, with adorable big chubby cheeks and tiny hands folded on his lap. He sat on the woman’s leg, one arm supporting his back. His matching red child tunic was just as fancy as her dress, fancier than anything Simon had at that age. A silver circlet rested on his small head. He looked just as regal as the woman. They were obviously some sort of nobility, or even royalty. Simon’s eyes flicked to the bottom of the portrait. There was an engraving in tiny shrunken letters. Simon strained to read them.

Her Majesty, Queen Natasha Grimm-Pitch of Watford, long may she reign. His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch, may he thrive.

Simon’s mouth fell open slightly. So this was Queen Natasha and Prince Tyrannus, the previous royal family who died tragically. He’d never seen them before. All portraits of them had been destroyed when the previous castle burned.

Something clicked into Simon’s brain. Puzzle pieces fitting together, things falling into place. No, it was more like an explosion, like going off but in his brain. Simon clutched the frame far too tightly his knuckles went white. He felt stupid, even more so than usual. He looked extremely closely at the young prince’s face. The prince who couldn’t be more than five in this portrait. Who had wavy raven hair, reddish-gold skin, and deep sea grey eyes.

“Baz?” he whispered into the emptiness. As if there was any question about it left in his mind.

———————————————

AN: Ahahaha, the twist everyone probably saw coming lol. But what are the repercussions of this? Well, y'all are gonna have to wait until next week to know. See you guys then :)

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #agatha wellbelove #fluff #angst #fantasy au #the black swordsman #mysnowbazfic

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