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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years ago

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The Sleeping Prince and The Fair Folk Boy

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 13359

Summary: In a fantasy land, two kingdoms are at odds. Two boys defy their lands hatred, but is it enough to defy a terrible curse? Based on Maleficent AU request.

Read on AO3

AN: Is it plagiarism when you're ripping off yourself? Idk. Yeah, I know the title sounds like The Sailor and The Siren, but it's not the same story, obviously lol. Apologies for the weird time jumps and scene jumping, it's how it worked out in the end. But I hope you like it! :)

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Once upon a time, there were two kingdoms. One was human, called England, and one was magical, called Watford. The humans feared the magical creatures, for they were large and scary and had great amounts of power. Human knights attacked the magical kingdom, but were always defeated by it’s protector, a fae woman named Natasha. With one beat of her mighty wings she soared miles. Fire flew from her hands with ease, scorching knights until they fled. Natasha was a great hero to her people and a great foe to all those who opposed her.

After decades of fighting, the king of England was growing older. He wished to see the dreaded Natasha fall. Any man who succeeded in defeating her would be granted the princess’ hand in marriage and become the next ruler of England. Many were fearful to even attempt to face such a fearsome foe. But one man stepped forward. Sir David, a commoner who ascended to knighthood through skill alone. All the other knights, all noble born, looked down at him.

“I shall defeat Natasha,” he announced.

The other knights laughed heartily. “Oh really?” One of them said. “Shall you defeat her with a farming plow?”

David scowled at their pompous guffaws. “I shall do it, you will see.”

And so the common knight went to the magical kingdom, intent on defeating Natasha. But he did not do so with might or valour. No, Sir David used tricks. There were darker creatures who were banished to lurk in the woods around Watford. They held no love for it’s protector. David bribed them with his finely made shield, and told the dark creatures to bring Natasha to him and inform him how to kill her. They happily accepted, and told the knight that iron harms fair folk just before they left.

Soon, the great protector of Watford was brought to Sir David, bloodied and weakened. Natasha was hardly a worthy adversary in this state. But Sir David cared not for a fair fight, just the reward he was promised.

“Do not do this,” Natasha said gravely. “It will only end in tragedy for you.”

Sir David did not heed her warning. He drew his iron sword, ready to plunge it through her inhuman heart. But Natasha refused to let the human win. She wrenched her arm free and slammed it to her chest. Her body erupted in flames. But Natasha did not scream. She silently looked the human in the eye as she died. Soon, there was nothing left of the great protector, save for her infamous wings. Sir David scowled, but he refused to award posthumous victory to his sworn foe. He wrapped the wings in black cloth. As he tucked them under his shoulder, he looked to the dark creatures.

“Do not speak of how this was done,” he said. “Or I shall send my armies to slaughter you all.”

The dark creatures agreed. Sir David turned and marched back to England, nary a second thought to how Natasha died.

He returned to the castle. He stood before the king, the court, and all the knights that had mocked him, and threw the wings to the ground. Everyone gasped. They all recognised their enormous span and shining feathers.

“I have defeated Natasha, your majesty,” Sir David announced.

“So it seems,” the old king replied.

“I expect my reward.”

He smiled slightly at his knight. “And so you shall have it.”

Sir David was soon wed to the old king’s daughter, Princess Lucy. The old king passed shortly after. King David ascended to the throne. He made sure to have the grand wings put in a special room, so he may always gaze upon his trophy. He ruled the people of England with an iron fist and strong ideals. He taxed the nobles as harshly as he could, putting their wealth into virtuous ventures. Building schools, improving roads, new lodgings for the poor. Though a good sum went to the crown as well. David justified this as the nobles finally paying their dues to the people. However, many suspected he desired revenge on all the high borns who had mocked and scorned him. The truth most likely sat somewhere in between.

Only three months into his reign, Queen Lucy was with child. She was overjoyed to have a baby, and David desired an heir. Six months later, a healthy baby prince was born. He was christened Simon Snow. Simon for his great grandfather, and Snow for the storm that ravaged the kingdom the day he was born. He was strong and healthy. A perfect heir for England.

The king and queen presented their son to the court and kingdom. Everyone was overjoyed. They presented gifts of great wealth and craftsmanship for the new prince. David was pleased at the offerings. The nobles were honouring their future king as they should. Among the strangest of the guests was Ebb, a goat herd who lived far from the castle.

Ebb ascended the dais, head held high and smile radiant. “Your majesties,” Ebb said with a courteous bow. “I have come bearing the most special of gifts for the young prince. More precious than any gold or silver.”

“And what would those be?” David asked.

“I bring magic, for I am of fair folk and I possess powerful spell casting.”

David’s muscle all locked up. He was wary of magic for many good reasons. “We have no need of magic in this kingdom.”

“I harbour no ill will, your majesty. I wish to show the court that fae and humans can live in peace. I can bestow three magical blessings upon your son.”

“How do we know you will not harm him?”

Ebb looked affronted almost, taken aback by such a thought. “I would never harm an innocent babe, your majesty. I swear on the roots of Watford’s great trees.”

David did not look convinced. The queen, known to be the tempering voice of the throne, leaned towards her husband. “Darling, she wishes to help our Simon. The fae have not attempted harm for awhile. Do not turn her away.”

The king was still uneasy, but he listened to his wife. A ruler sometimes had to attempt peace. David sheathed his blade and sat. “Very well, bestow your blessings.”

Ebb bowed deeply. “As you wish, your majesty.” She walked over to the golden cradle and leaned over the edge. Prince Simon looked back up at her with large blue eyes and a giggling smile. Ebb gave a joyous grin in return.

“Dear, sweet Simon,” she said cheerily. “I first give you the gift of courage. You shall always have strength in the face of any adversity.” David was pleased by this blessing. Ebb tapped her sparkling finger just beneath Simon’s left eye, and a little mole appeared on his skin. The baby burbled and smiled.

“Second, I give you the gift of kindness. Your heart will always be open and caring.” Lucy was very happy about this one. This time, Ebb touched below Simon’s left ear, and two moles appeared this time.

“And for my last gift, I-”

With a loud boom, the doors at the end of the hall flew open and the room went dark. Every noble went silent. The king and queen were frozen in the seats. A terrifying silhouette loomed at the entrance. Horns protruded from its head and large wings spread out, and King David’s heart stopped. He knew of fairies and dark creatures and magic, but he hoped that ghosts were not real as well. But as the silhouette flew closer, it was clear Natasha had not risen from the grave. Though this woman looked similar, she had none of the late protector’s powerful grace, and her black hair sported a shock of white that Natasha never had. Whoever she was, she scared Ebb, making the other fae back into a dark corner.

“Who dares trespass on this sacred day?” Queen Lucy asked.

“Lucy, do not speak to it,” the king hissed.

“I am Fiona of Watford,” the woman announced. “My sister was Natasha, protector of our fair lands. She was killed a year ago.”

David stood, a hand on his sword handle. “I see not what this has to do with your presence in our court.”

Fiona scowled and pointed a finger at the king’s face. “I learned that you were the one who killed Natasha, taking the wings from her corpse as a trophy. This desecration of my sister’s name and body shall not stand. You will be punished for your crime of murder!”

David inhaled sharply. He silently feared what punishment a fae could bring, but he could not reveal his deceit to his court, even to avoid whatever magical retribution this Fiona would bring. “You have no standing in this court, and no right to dole out punishment as you see fit.”

“Silence!” Fiona waved her hand and the roof exploded in green flames. Nobles screamed and held each other. “You use my sister’s death to further your own standing! I have every right to exact my vengeance!”

The king drew his sword and pointed it the fae’s face. “If you wish to duel, I am more than happy to face you. You shall fall just like your sister.”

Fiona sneered at the blade, obviously unimpressed at the king’s weapon. “I will not waste my strength on fighting you, pitiful man. No, I wish to give to you what you gave me. Or rather what you took.”

The fae looked down at the golden cradle. Queen Lucy gasped, a hand pressed to her chest. “No, please! Have mercy!” she shouted.

“Did your husband have mercy when he killed my sister!?” Fiona roared. “When he murdered our land’s protector in cold blood, broke her husband’s heart, and left her young child motherless?!” She looked the king in his quivering blue eyes. “No, and I shall have no mercy either.”

David yelled and tried to rush the fae, but with one flick of green fire from her fingers, he was kept back. One more flick and the rest of the court was kept at bay. No one could approach her. And no one could save Simon.

Fiona looked down at the little prince. He was only a year younger than Fiona’s own nephew. The nephew that was now living with no mother or father, because a human wanted a crown.

“Listen well, humans,” Fiona boomed, “the prince shall grow up charming and handsome, beloved by all who meet him.”

Her grey eyes slid over to a gift from the kingdom of Umbria, who were famous for their fine textiles. It was a gold plated spinning wheel. The needle glinted in the sunlight.

The fae woman stood straight, facing the king and queen. The green fire roared from her hand, curling and twisting around the throne room. “But before the sun sets on his eighteenth birthday, he will prick his finger on a spinning wheel, and fall into a sleep like death from which he will never awaken!”

“Fiona, no!” Ebb shouted, walking forward with saky steps. Being a fae, she could push back against Fiona’s magic. But no one could truly break it.

Fiona was beyond shocked to see Ebb, for she knew the woman. Ages ago, Ebb had lived in Watford with her twin brother Nicodemus. Fiona had loved Ebb more than the sprawling trees loved the sun. But one fateful day, when Nicodemus and Fiona were wandering in the twisted woods, Nico was torn apart by dark creatures. Even Fiona with all her power could not save him. Ebb was shattered, too grief stricken to stay within Watford. When she left, Fiona was shattered too.

“You are in no place to demand things of me,” Fiona sneered.

“He is but a child, Fi,” Ebb said. “An innocent, undeserving of such a horrible, inescapable fate.”

Fiona considered her words. Deep down in her heart, she knew her old love was right. But she needed to avenge her sister. She only contemplated for a moment, and knew she had an answered.

“Very well,” Fiona said. “The prince can be awakened, but only by, true love’s kiss.”

Ebb gaped at her former lover. Of course she remembered those words. When Ebb stood at the edge of Watford, Fiona had asked her if true love was real. But Ebb was young, grieving, a deep dark part of herself blaming Fiona for not being able to save her brother’s life. So with tears in her eyes and heart lodged deep in her throat, Ebb had simply walked away. And now Fiona was using those words once more.

Fiona looked over the whole court with her head held high. “This curse will last until the end of time. No power on Earth can change it.”

The green fire roared to a fever pitch, and flooded the entire room. Nobles were knocked off their gilded feet as they screamed to the high heavens. Fiona gave one last furious look to the royal couple as well as to Ebb, then soared out the door. Ebb looked over the cradle. She saw three new moles on Simon’s rosy right cheek. And that was how the prince came to be cursed.

Drastic measures had to be taken to ensure the young prince’s safety. King David ordered every spinning wheel in England to be broken and burned, the blackened remnants locked away in a dark dungeon. To protect his heir, he entrusted Simon to the magic of Ebb, no matter how much his queen protested. She was to keep him to hidden and safe for eighteen years and a day. He sent his armies to hunt down the dread Fiona. But she had already created tall, thick walls of thorns together. So Watford should never suffer the tainted touch of humans again.

Ebb took the infant prince to her cottage in the middle of the woods where none may find them. Though she knew not exactly how to be a mother, she did her very best for him. She did not use magic, fearing any sort of thing that would attract attention to the hidden prince.

Simon grew from a babe to a child in that cottage with Ebb. He played among the trees, rolled in the moss, and cuddled Ebb’s beloved goats, all far away from the castle he remembered not. Ebb told Simon that his blood parents had passed away so she had adopted him. Simon knew of no reason to distrust her.

The blessings Ebb had given to Simon did come true. He was unafraid in the face of adversity or danger. Which was a wonderful thing, even if it did lead to more than a few scrapes and bruises for the young boy. Ebb tried to keep him out of harm’s way, but it was a difficult task when Simon feared so little. Simon was also unbelievably kind. He thought all deserved love and care until proven otherwise.

One day when he was eight, Simon brought a baby bird with a broken wing home. He held it up to Ebb with big teary blue eyes.

“Please, Auntie,” Simon pleaded. “Please we have to save it!”

“We will do our best darling, darling,” she cooed.

Ebb helped Simon wrap it’s leg in bandages and give it food. He stroked the little bird’s head all the way through. And that night, he insisted they put it in a basket next to his bed so he could sleep beside it. In the morning, when the poor creature passed from it’s injuries, Simon sniffled and cried all day. He cared not that he had only known it for a few hours. Only that it was a living thing who had died in pain. He felt that pain himself, because his heart was so big it could encompass the whole kingdom.

As the years went on, Simon’s curly bronze hair became wild like vines, his blues sparkled, and his mole and freckle covered cheeks dimpled with his smile. He made every room brighter with his presence. Ebb watched as he grew into a charming and handsome young boy, just as Fiona said he would. She tried to forget what other things Fiona had put in his future.

A week after his eleventh name day, Simon was running through the woods, playing with his new puppy, when he spotted something strange in the darkness. A flash of raven black and glitter of silver. Simon stopped in his tracks and gazed among the trees.

“Is anyone there?” he asked. There was a rustle of leaves. Simon caught sight of a grey eye between the branches. “I see you! You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” a quiet voice replied. He sounded young, barely older than Simon himself.

“Then come out and say hello.”

“If I do, then you’ll be afraid.”

Simon puffed out his relatively small chest. “I’m never afraid.”

The strange boy stayed away for a long moment, the only sound around them a whistling in the leaves. Slowly, he stepped towards Simon and into the light. Simon had been right. The boy was young, but he was very strange. He dressed in only a white tunic and brown pants, his feet bare on the dirty forest floor. Even more bizarre, a pair of magnificent black and silver feathered wings protruded from his back and curled around his sides. From beneath his thick, wavy raven hair, two small dark grey stubs pointed upwards. They matched the shade of grey in his eyes. When Simon finally saw his whole face, it was sharp and wore more signs of age than him, but was still that of a child.

“Hello,” Simon chirped like a bird.

“Hello,” the boy replied, voice far more serious.

Simon’s head tilted to the side, bronze hair spilling down like a waterfall. “Are you one of the fair folk? My auntie tells me stories of them.”

"Yes, I am." His wings fluttered slightly, like an uncomfortable bird ruffling.

"Oh." Simon bared a grin brighter than sunshine. "That's wonderful." He stuck his dirty, calloused hand out insistently. "My name is Simon."

The fae’s eyes went round with shock. "Have you no sense? You're never supposed to give a fae your name."

Simon frowned, lips almost forming a pout. “But my auntie says it’s always polite to give people your name. Why wouldn’t I be polite to you just because you’re a fae?”

He thrusted his hand out more insistently towards the other boy. The fae looked at the limb like a snake winding in the grass, ready to bite him. But Simon was not deterred. He kept his hand there. For he was very brave, and very kind. And very slowly, the fae boy finally accepted Simon’s friendly hand.

“Hello, Simon,” he said.

Simon shook the boy’s rough hand vigorously, his grin stretching to his ears. “Hello. Do you have a name? Do faes have names?”

The fae rolled his stormy eyes very expertly for someone so young. “Yes, I have a name.”

“May I hear it?”

He looked apprehensive, his hand slowly falling from Simon’s. His long arms hid beneath his wings. Simon stepped towards him, still grinning. It was a smile with not a single hint of malice or deceit. No power on Earth could resist.

“My name is Baz,” he said.

Simon’s grin miraculously became even brighter. “Hello, Baz. Would you like to play?”

Baz looked down at the leaf covered ground. “I shouldn’t.”

“Oh. Are you okay?” Simon stepped closer and looked over Baz for any injuries. When he stepped closer, the fae jolted like he had been struck by lightning. “Sorry! Are you hurt?”

“I am not harmed. It’s just...your necklace...”

Simon looked down. It was a cross Ebb had given him for his ninth birthday, made from twisting dark metal. “What’s wrong with my necklace?”

Baz looked at it not with disgust or even fear, mostly with discomfort. “It’s iron. Iron burns faes.”

“Oh! Sorry!” Simon lifted the cross above his head and threw it as far as his arm could manage. It soared into the distance, gone forever. He once more turned Baz with his bright grin. “Can we play now?”

Baz looked beyond shocked at Simon. Simon couldn’t understand why. The necklace was hurting him, so it had to go. Someone mattered far more than something.

“I-I could,” Baz started. “But I-”

“Then let’s go!” Simon jumped like an eager bunny. “C’mon c’mon, let’s have fun!”

Baz looked up once more. And finally, he smiled as well. “Okay. We can have fun.”

Simon jumped a few more times, then he took Baz by the wrist. “Let’s go!”

And so the two boys ran through the woods together. Their feet crunched on leaves and broke fallen branches, letting their presence mark the world. Simon showed Baz how to toss a stick for his dog, Goldie. He encouraged Baz to scratch behind her furry golden ear and let her lay across his lap. Baz demonstrated his dominion over nature, making pretty flowers instantly bloom in in the soil. He told a rapt Simon the proper names of all the wonderful flora. Simon plucked a bright violet from the ground and offered it to Baz, and the fae graciously tucked it behind his pointed ear. The boys raced each other to reach the top of a tree, but Baz won on account of his large wings. His prize was a ripe plum Simon carried in his pocket. Baz silently gave half to Simon, the kindness going unacknowledged save for a small quirk of Baz’s lips.

The two boys sat together on top of the tree. The twilight sun set the sky on fire, illuminating everything in scarlet and orange. Simon sat close to Baz but Baz would not allow them to touch.

"Simon!" A distant voice called out. "Simon, it's time to come home!"

"That's my auntie," Simon spoke through his last bite of plum.

"You should go to her," Baz said.

"Yeah. Wanna play again soon?"

Baz looked over at the smiling Simon. His hair glowed gold in the dying sunlight. Baz gave a tiny smile back.

“Okay.”

“Hooray!” He leaned forward, the light of his grin reflecting off Baz’s face. “Shall I find you in the woods again?”

Baz let little puffs of air from his nose. “Come to the woods, and I shall find you.”

Simon nodded so hard his curls bounced. “Alright.” Suddenly, he threw his arms around Baz’s shoulders in a squeezing hug. The fae’s muscles locked up in shock. “Bye, Baz.”

“Goodbye, Simon.”

And so Simon swung down the tree. When he was about halfway down, Baz leaned over the side, looking down upon him.

“Simon,” he yelled, “do not tell anyone about me, please?”

“Not even my aunt?” Simon asked with a confused frown.

“No, not even her. Faes aren’t supposed to be out of our lands. If anyone finds out I’m in the human kingdom, I may very well be hurt.”

That made Simon’s eyes go wide and heart hammer painfully. He wished to never see anyone hurt, especially his new friend. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone. This will be our secret.”

Baz nodded, strands of black falling in front of his face. “Yes, our secret.”

Simon descended the last half of the tree. Goldie barked and jumped until Simon scooped her up in his arms. He looked up to the tree again. Baz was silhouetted by the sun. It made him appear even more majestic. Simon waved with his entire arm. Baz waved subtly back. And he watched as Simon dashed away.

Simon met with Baz in the forest the next day, and the next, and the next. They saw each other on every day they could, and through the turns of the seasons, Simon and Baz never tired of one another. Sometimes they would run through the woods, their giggles ringing through nature. Other times they would play in the leaves or the snow depending in the season. On occasion, when they tired of running and playing, the boys simply wandered as they pleased, speaking of things they saw or did.

“And this plant is called the willow tree,” Baz said, brushing his hand through the hanging little leaves. Simon listened as he walked along the edge of the cliff. Baz looked concerned with his every step, but Simon was a child of this land. He knew how to walk upon it.

“Why do the branches hang so low?” Simon asked. He cared little for the answer honestly. He mostly enjoyed hearing Baz speak. He had a nice voice. It had started to deepen recently, for Baz was already 14 years of age. It was strange to Simon that such an incredible magical creature was only a year older than himself.

“I was always told the willow was created when a fae lost her child. The tears she cried hit the soil, which made the first tree grow. So now the branches hang low and weep just as she did.”

“Hm, interesting.”

Simon spun around with his arms out, just as a large gust of wind blew against him. His balance was completely thrown. He stumbled and wavered, and then his feet were no longer on solid ground. Simon was in such a state of shock that everything moved slowly. He watched the cliff fall away from him and become smaller and smaller. He silently wondered if his aunt and Goldie would be okay when he was gone, and if his parents would great him when he reached the heavens.

As Simon contemplated his grisly fate, he felt something stop his fall. The air was knocked from his lungs, making him cough. When he looked up, Baz’s face stared down at him, haloed in the fall sunlight. His stormy eyes were wider than should be possible.

“Did I not say you should be careful?!” Baz said, anger and fear blending together in his voice.

Simon shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I thought I would be safe.”

“Obviously you were not.”

“But I was.” Simon put his arms over Baz’s bony shoulders. “You were here to catch me, were you not?”

Baz narrowed his eyes, but his arms tightened around Simon’s back. “You were lucky I was.”

“Can I not always count on you being here to save me?”

Baz did not answer. He simply sighed and shook his head. Then he flew them back to the ground, this time far away from the edge. He stayed close to Simon’s side. Simon did not mind. He preferred Baz close to him.

“Shall we make a pile of leaves and jump in it?” Baz asked.

Simon grinned. “I’d certainly like that.”

They did just so, the worries of Simon’s near death faded to a background thought.

As the seasons turned, Simon started to grow as well. His voice deepened like Baz’s, his chest became broader, and soon he towered over his aunt, who he used to have to strain his neck to look up at. However, Baz remained taller than him. It seemed when Simon gained any sort of height, Baz willed himself to outgrow him. Baz had more unique changes too. His wings became so large they dragged on the ground behind him. And the little grey stubs on his head grew up and up, twisting into true grey bone horns.

“Do all the fae have wings?” Simon asked as they sat upon a hill, gazing at the sparkling night sky.

“Most do,” Baz replied.

Simon’s head lolled to the side, eyes roaming over Baz’s profile. While Simon had grown more outwards, Baz had stretched and elongated. Everything about him was long and graceful. His nose and cheekbones were sharper than swords’ edges. He was incredibly handsome. That was an objective fact. Simon very rarely saw himself, save for a reflection in the pond, and he wondered if Baz thought he was handsome too.

“Do they all have horns?”

“No. Only people from my family do.”

“May I touch yours?”

Baz recoiled at first. His eyes slowly slid to the side. Once he saw there was no malice in Simon’s words, he nodded. Simon reached forward. He slowly traced every swirled ridge of of the grey bone, learning it’s pattern with one finger, while Baz sat incredibly still. Simon soon reached the top, and accidentally touched the very tip.

“Ouch!” he said, immediately putting the finger to his lips.

“Careful,” Baz hissed. “They’re sharp, you idiot.”

“Well, I’m aware of that now!”

Baz shook his head, raven hair falling in his face in a lazy wave. “Give me your finger, Simon.”

Simon held his hand out. Baz placed his own over it. He closed his eyes, lips moving so minutely it could hardly be see. Silver fire twisted from his skin and onto Simon’s. The human felt the smallest of stings, and then it was simply a pleasant warmth, like sitting next to the stove. As the fire pulled back, so did Baz. Simon looked down at his skin. It was now unmarred once again. There was no sign of any scratch whatsoever.

“Wow,” Simon gasped. “You are incredible.”

“I am of the fair folk, it’s normal,” Baz said.

Simon grinned and pressed his arm to Baz’s. ‘Well, then all fair folk must be incredible, if you’re the standard.”

Baz let out a small laughing breath. “I suppose that’s a reasonable conclusion. That opinion may change if you met other fae.”

Simon looked up at him, chin resting on his still bony shoulder. “I’ve yet to meet any others.”

Simon knew it was a loaded statement. He knew what he truly wanted to say. Ever since he had met, he imagined the place someone as as incredible as him came from. Baz looked distressed for a moment. But the expression was so fleeting Simon barely had time to acknowledge its existence. Baz quickly turned to him with a slightly strained smile.

“We’ll see,” he said softly.

“Okay,” Simon sighed. He started to doze against Baz as they looked out at the stars. For Simon felt calm with Baz next to him, always had, always will.

A few more seasons passed, and as the snow melted to spring again, Simon was rapidly approaching his eighteenth name day. He was nearly a man of age. An adult who was meant to be independent. He was thinking of leaving home to find wonders abroad. Simon thought it was a marvelous idea. Baz was not so enthusiastic.

“What can there be abroad that you cannot find here?” he asked.

“Lots of things!” Simon replied. He tossed a cherry in his mouth just as Goldie returned with her stick. “There could be so many things beyond the woods. New people, new experiences, new foods.”

Baz rolled his eyes as he threw the stick for Goldie. It went much further than when Simon tossed before. “You can make your own new foods here.”

“I disagree. I’ve used every ingredient I can.” Simon shoved both his hands in his trouser pockets, and kicked at some dirt. “I just wish to see something new and possibly exciting, Baz. Is that so wrong?”

“No,” Baz sighed. “I suppose not.”

They continued playing with Goldie, throwing sticks, petting and scratching to her little heart’s content. But unfortunately, the sky decided to open up above them in a mighty crash of thunder. The rain hit them with a hard pitter patter. Simon put his hand up to uselessly protect himself. But hen Baz lifted his wing above Simon’s head, he no longer needed to.

“I should get home,” Simon said, looping the rope leash around Goldie’s neck.

“Yes, you could.” Baz’s thin lips twisted for an unknown reason. “But I know if somewhere it won’t be raining.”

Simon’s eyes were wide. “Really?”

“Yes, if you would like to go.” Baz offered his hand out.

Simon grabbed it without any hesitation. “Absolutely.”

Baz’s grip tightened. He smiled as he pulled Simon deeper into the woods. And Simon followed with incredibly eager steps.

Eventually, the men reached a terrifying site. Massive thorns of towering height, twisting together in an impenetrable thicket. Simon was both fascinated and scared of it. He instinctively recoiled. Goldie whimpered, pawing at her face.

“What is this?” Simon asked.

“It’s meant to protect the fae from humans,” Baz replied.

“Do the fae need protection?”

“Sometimes.” Baz made an arc with his hand, silver flames trailing from his fingertips. A small part of the thicket winded away and pulled into the ground. “Come along, Simon.”

Simon and his loyal hound followed Baz in. As they walked, the rain lessened and lessened until there was none at all. They ducked under the last thorny vine, and finally entered Watford. Suddenly, all breath left Simon’s lungs.

There were no words to describe Watford. It was a place beyond simple spoken ideas. Everything was made of wondrous magic. Glowing flowers, twisting waterfalls over crystal cliffs, flickering multicoloured lights, and trees that bared perfectly shaped fruit. Simon walked forward, and ground glowed softly under him. He gasped at the sheer fantastical nature of it. No wonder Baz was so marvelous. He came from somewhere beyond anyone’s imagination. It certainly went past anything Simon dreamt of.

“By all the gods,” Simon whispered.

One of the colourful lights came close to Simon’s face. And it wasn’t a simple light at all. It was the smallest little pixie, with large glowing eyes and translucent butterfly wings. They smiled at Simon for a brief second then fluttered away. Simon giggled as he watched them fly away.

“Do you plan to stand there all night?” Baz asked with a teasing lilt.

Simon scoffed, but it was with a grin. “Do you plan to show me more?”

Baz tilted his head, almost point with his horns in a way. “Follow me, Simon.”

And so he did. Simon and Goldie followed Baz deeper into Watford. There were more creatures than the little pixies. A giant made from mossy roots stood guard by a cliff. Fish women swam beneath the glittering waves. Little trolls ran up to Simon and Baz. One held out a red flower towards Simon. He kneeled, and graciously took the tiny bloom.

“Thank you,” he said.

The troll seemed to blush, though Simon wasn’t sure how trolls blushed. They ran off back towards their friends. The whole group of them ran towards a mud pit and started splashing about. Simon felt before he saw Goldie tug on her leash. She whined and whined pathetically. Simon looked at Baz for assurance.

“It should be fine,” Baz said. “It’s just mud.”

“That suggests anything here is normal,” Simon chuckled.

“It’s normal for me.”

Simon smiled, affection burning in his gaze. “But nothing about you is normal, Baz.”

Baz scoffed and looked away, but a dusting of rose colour appeared on his cheeks. Simon wondered how he could be embarrassed by something so true.

Simon slipped the leash off Goldie. She happily bounded towards the mud. As she splashed, the trolls squealed with delight. They happily rolled and tossed in the dirty pool. It looked so fun. How could Simon resist? Baz tried to call after him, but it was too late. Simon was already throwing himself into the mud. The trolls splashed him, and he joyfully splashed back. He was still the rough and tumble kid at heart. It wasn’t something Simon would never be ashamed of.

In their little filthy kerfuffle, a stray comet of mud flew towards Baz. And it hit the fae man square on the cheek, creating a small splatter. The trolls immediately froze. All wore an expression of terror. Simon didn’t know what they had to fear. It was only Baz. He almost immediately started snorting with laughter, throwing his head back in giggles. Simon was so caught up in his amusement he didn’t see Baz flick his fingers. A large amount of mud splattered across Simon’s entire face. Simon stopped laughing using both hands to wipe the dirt from his eyes. When he could see once more, he saw Baz grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear.

And Simon smiled back.

When Simon and Goldie were done with their dirty escapade, Baz lead them to more places in Watford. Like the floating mountain tops, singing moss, and dancing vines. He pointedly kept Simon away from one side of the kingdom. Simon thought it must be dreadfully boring over there. They came across a tree whose branches twisted like smoke from a fireplace. Simon left a mud covered Goldie to sleep at the bottom. Then he swung up to the top, and Baz flew to follow him, just as they did all those years ago.

Simon sat and surveyed the majesty of Watford. It was dreams made real. He somehow felt happier here. Maybe it was because Watford was so incredible. Maybe it was because Baz came from here, and Simon liked anything associated with Baz.

“This is wonderful,” Simon said wistfully. “I love it here.”

“What if you stayed?” Baz asked. Simon whipped his head around to face him. The fae’s face was serious. There was not a hint of humour. He meant it.

“Really?”

Baz nodded slowly. “Yes. You could stay in Watford with my allowance. That is, only if you want to...”

“Yes, yes!” Simon threw his arms around Baz’s shoulder, face eagerly pressing into the side of his neck. “I would happily stay forever.”

“You can, Simon.” Baz smiled, softer than Simon had ever seen before. “And you will. You’ll be safe and have unlimited excitement here for your entire life.”

Simon’s grin was so wide it was painful. His heart felt full enough to burst. “Thank you, Baz, thank you so much.”

Baz’s face fell for but a second. He placed a hand on Simon’s arm. “You’re more than welcome, Simon.”

As he imagined what life could be like in this wonderful word, that small voice in Simon’s head reminded him of something. Or rather, someone, who right now was probably up late wondering where her darling ward was. Simon’s arms drooped slightly around Baz.

“My aunt,” Simon said. “I have to tell her before I go. I can’t just leave her without a word.”

Baz’s face fell for longer this time. But he nodded. “Yes, you’re right. You should talk to her.”

Simon nodded as well, but his arms stayed around his friend. “After we watch the sunrise though, okay?”

Baz squeezed his forearm and leaned his head on top Simon’s, silky hair brushing the human’s scalp. “Yes, let’s.”

The two young men sat together while the sun crested over the horizon. It was a strange, lovely reversal of the day they first met. That was one sort of beginning, and now this would be another. Simon desperately looked forward it.

Eventually, they had to descend. Baz helped Simon keep his balance all the way down. Goldie was still a bit tired but awake enough to walk. All three walked back to the wall of thorns. Baz parted it and led Simon through once more. They took a moment just outside the border.

“I’ll be back very soon,” Simon said.

“I await your return,” Baz replied.

They parted with one more hug. Baz watched until Simon could not be seen through the thick trees. Simon didn’t look back. That was good. He did not see the terrified look on Baz’s face.

Simon ran through the woods. It didn’t take him long to know where he was again. These were his woods after all. When he came upon his cottage, Ebb was dozing off in her rocking chair. She had obviously been waiting for Simon all night long. Simon carefully walked up towards her.

“Auntie?” Simon whispered, placing a light hand upon her shoulder. Ebb startled awake with wide eyes. “It’s alright, Auntie, it’s just me.”

Ebb let out a long sigh, hand to her chest. “Oh Simon, love, you gave me such a scare. Where have you been all night, darling? Why are you filthy?”

Simon looked down at himself and Goldie. Both were still a lovely shade of muddy brown. “Um, Goldie and I were having fun by the river. We both got so tired, we just passed out next to a tree.”

“Hm, I see.” Ebb stood, using her staff to help herself up. “Come along, you should get cleaned up for your birthday breakfast.”

Simon’s mind reeled for a moment. He had forgotten that it was his birthday, far too caught up in the wonders he saw last night. He was eighteen today, finally an adult. And an adult was meant to strike out on his own.

“Auntie,” he said, wiping dried dirt away with a rag, “I have something to tell you.”

Ebb was chopping up cherries at the counter. “Oh? What is it, love?”

Simon took several deep breaths. Every pull of air calmed his burning worries. Until he was finally able to say it. “I’m leaving home. Today.”

Ebb dropped the knife. It clattered on the wood. Her back was straighter than a tree trunk. She slowly turned to look at Simon. Simon expected shock, but Ebb looked scared.

“What?” she said, voice small and shaky.

“I-I’m leaving, Auntie. I’ve got somewhere to go. It’s not too far, but it’s interesting. And I promise I’ll come visit. I’ll-”

“No, no, no.” Ebb leaned her head in her hand, glassy eyes flitting around. “No, you can’t go. It’s too early, you need to stay here, you need to stay hidden. I have to bring you back to your parents I-

“Wait,” Simon said sharply, stepping towards Ebb with utter shock in his gaze. “Did...did you just say I have to go back to my parents? You told me they were dead.”

Ebb looked over Simon’s confused face but a few times before she sighed, head hanging low. She patted his hand kindly, just like she had his whole life. “Simon, I think you need to sit down. There’s much I have to tell you.”

Simon sat, and Ebb spun her tale. She tried to be as concise and kind as possible. But Simon still ran out of the cottage with tears in his eyes, too distressed to look at his aunt, and angry enough that he had someone else to see. He ran through the woods, until reached the terrifying wall of thorns.

“Baz!” he yelled. “Baz! Come out!”

“I’m here.”

Simon jolted like he had been struck by lightning. He spun around to see Baz behind him, in all his tall winged glory. Simon was breathing heavily as he looked at his old friend.

“Did you know?” Simon accused. “Did you know that I-I was cursed? That I have been since I was a baby?” Baz didn’t answer, but Simon kept babbling. “My aunt, she said a bad fae did it. I-I can’t remember her name, it was like-”

“Fiona,” Baz said with no inflection.

Simon’s head lifted up. Baz looked calm, save for a slight tension in his lips. Simon’s mouth hung open. “Do you know her?”

Baz nodded, but so incredibly slowly, it was like he barely moved at all. “Yes.”

“How?!”

Baz laced his long fingers together in front of him. “Fiona is my aunt.”

Simon felt like he had been punched square in the stomach. He stumbled back, fists clenched incredibly tight. “You’re...you’re aunt? Have you known I was cursed this entire time?!” Baz nodded once again. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I wasn’t allowed,” Baz said, voice strained.

“Allowed?”

Baz looked down at the ground, as if looking at Simon pained him. “When I was twelve, my aunt sent me out to keep an eye on you. She wanted to me to make sure you stayed alive, so the curse could...come to fruition.”

Simon stumbled even further away, a hand pressed to his face. His whole world was crashing down and shattering into a million miniature pieces on the forest floor. “So that’s why you approached me? Because I was your target? And what, you pretended to be my friend so I would stay close?”

“I never pretended.”

Simon shoved his face in Baz’s, snarling like Goldie when she was angered. “Real friends don’t lie for seven years, Baz!”

“I never lied!” Baz yelled. His voice was bordering on desperate.

“No, you just withheld the truth.” Simon wrapped his shaking around himself. “Which is so much worse. Because you let me think you cared, like an idiot.”

“I do care!” Baz stepped closer. His calm facade was starting to crack like ice in the spring. “I care so much, Simon, even though I was not meant to.”

He offered his hand out, silently requesting for Simon to close the distance. But Simon backed away, shaking his head vigorously. “If you truly cared,” he choked out, “you would have told me.”

Baz opened his mouth to say more, but Simon turned and ran. He couldn’t bear to look at Baz, his oldest and only friend. Or so he thought.

Simon ran without thought. He just wished to escape his feelings, to not think of all the good memories that were now tainted. His feet brought him through the trees and brush. Until he eventually reached the stables, where Ebb kept her horse. Simon’s impulsive mind immediately supplied an idea. He looked to the distance, where the castle sat atop a high hill.

He mounted the horse with nary a second thought.

The castle was a long ride, but Simon was not deterred. He kept going until he reached the castle gates. The guards would not let him pass, no matter how much he yelled that he truly was the prince. Eventually, he annoyed them into bringing him inside. They lead him by a rough grip on his arm, through towering hallways with fantastical carvings. It was incredible, but in a far darker way than Watford.

They eventually reached a spacious room, with stain glass windows overlooking the town below. Tall men all stood around a table with their backs turned. One bore a golden crown upon his brunette head.

“Your majesty,” the guard said, “this urchin came to the gates. He claims to be the prince.”

The crowned man stood straight backed and slowly turned. His blue eyes were wide and his brown mustache was turning grey. He surely had to be the king, and therefore surely had to be Simon’s father.

“Father!” he shouted, wrenching himself from the guard and running to him. He threw his arms around the armoured man with no shame. “It’s me, Simon. I’ve come home!”

The king looked upon his son in utter shock. He barely recognised the man his boy had become. Yet it was all to familiar in such a painful way.

“You look just like your mother,” David said, holding back any emotion from his voice.

Simon smiled brightly, but his father would not return the affection. His face stayed like stone. Simon was confused. This was the first time he had met someone so immune to his sunny disposition. And he never thought it would be his own father.

“That damn fairy,” David growled. “She brought you back too soon.” He looked over Simon’s head. “Take him to his room. Lock him in, don’t let him out until after the sun sets.”

“What?!” Two guards grabbed both of Simon’s arms and hauled him backwards. Simon struggled but it was no use, they would not let go. “Father! Father!” he called.

But David turned back to his war council without another word.

Simon was dragged through stone corridors again. He kept fighting the guards to no avail. “Where are you taking me? What’s going on? I want to speak to my father!”

“King David is busy,” a guard replied mechanically.

“With what?!”

“A final attack on Watford. To destroy the fairy threat once and for all.”

Simon gasped and started flailing even more. “No! No, he can’t, that’s wrong!”

“They cursed you, your highness,” the other guard said. “That was wrong. They forced the king to send you away and break the queen’s heart, may God rest her soul.”

Simon immediately stopped struggling. His lips hung open in shock. It shouldn’t be so painful. Simon had been raised believing his parents were dead for eighteen years. Yet, knowing it was really true, it was like an ice cold blade through his heart.

The guards opened a small door and shoved Simon inside. Then they quickly locked it behind him. Simon rushed and pounded on the door.

“Let me out!” he yelled. “You can’t destroy Watford! It was one fae who did this, not all of them!”

No one answered, because no one was listening. Simon’s hits slowed to low thumps, and then he slowly fell to the ground. He couldn’t get out. The father he had just met was about to destroy the place he had just fallen in love with. And he didn’t even fully understand why. Ebb had said he was a prince who was cursed as a baby, but Simon had fled before she explained what the curse even was. The simple word “curse” itself was enough to send him running in tears. Now he wished he had stayed to hear. He wished he wasn’t alone right now. As angry as he was at him, Simon desperately missed Baz.

Simon sat with his back against the door, the setting sun glowing through the gauzy curtain. He softly scratched on his index finger without thinking. Why did it itch so much?

Far off from the castle, there was a different fight brewing. Baz was standing before his aunt, rage burning his heart and voice.

“This is ridiculous, Fiona!” he roared. “You created the curse, you can remove it!”

“It is not so simple, Basil!” she yelled in reply. “I created that curse to last until the end of time and so no power on Earth could change it. I put that in the bloody spell! I can’t alter it even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to!”

“It’s not right!”

Fiona shoved her face in Baz’s. Though he was taller than her now, she was still more intimidating. “Natasha’s death was not right! That bastard king took her away from you, and her death killed your father with a broken heart. The king deserves to be punished!”

“Yes, the king does, not Simon.” He clenched his fist and squeezed his eyes shut, willing back his tears. “He’s not like that man, Fiona. He’s not cruel or greedy. He cares without hesitation for everyone and everything. He doesn't deserve such a horrible fate.”

Fiona looked upon her nephew’s desperate face, and was thrown back to standing at Watford’s borders, watching Ebb walk away. “It doesn’t matter now, Baz,” she muttered. “The curse was placed years ago. It can’t be changed now.”

Baz let out a shaky breath. He tried to calm the storm in his mind but as the sun fell further and further it only became worse.

As the sun set, Simon paced around his room. The itch in his finger had graduated to intense pain. He squeezed and poked and scratched but nothing relieved it. And he swore he saw something green under his skin. His head was getting foggier. Simon could barely hold onto his thoughts. They floated away like dust on the wind. All that remained was the desperate urge to escape.

Simon started to run his hands against the wall, searching for any exit. His fingers caressed a tapestry and he felt the edge of something hard. He scrambled to lift the cloth and pull at the the lip. A small door opened to a winding staircase. Simon swore he could hear whispers in the dark. They beckoned him forward. Simon could not resist. His feet walked forward before his mind could catch up.

He went down the stairs at the same time Baz was following his aunt, even as she attempted to storm away.

“You told me there was a way to break it, Fiona!” he yelled. “When I was little, you said there was one way.”

“And that it was impossible,” Fiona hissed.

“Yes, but I must know!”

Fion spun on her heels, scowling deeply at her nephew. “True love, Basil!”

Baz’s eyes went wide. “True love? That is all?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s so simple.”

“No, it isn’t.” Fiona turned back and stretched out her wings. “True love doesn’t exist.”

She flew off into the sky, and Baz still followed.

All the while, Simon was making his way through the castle he barely knew. He did as the whispers told him. Turned every corner, walked down every hallway. Deeper and deeper he went, until there was no more dying sunlight, only darkness.

He walked down a very narrow hall. A large oak door stood at the very end. Simon tried to go in, but the infernal thing was locked. That is, until a wisp of green fire worked into the mechanism, and forced the door to open. Simon walked inside.

“Please Fiona, there must be some possible way!” Baz shouted.

Simon came face to face with a miles high twisted pile of wood and metal. An unknown force pulled him forward. It was the same force that took a mess of broken pieces and pulled them together into a mismatched spinning wheel. It’s silver spindle glinted, even though there was no natural light.

“There isn’t!” Fiona replied over the raging winds in their ears.

The feeling in Simon’s finger was beyond maddening. And the spindle was right there, the glint making it oh so tempting. Somehow he knew it could relieve the pain. One touch and it would vanish. That’s all he needed, one touch. So Simon walked forward.

“It cannot be so hopeless!” Baz felt like a child, but he was utterly desperate.

Green fire curled from both the spindle and Simon’s. Pulling together, drawing Simon closer. The strange whispers told him he had to. That it was the only thing he was meant to do.

“Everything is hopeless sometimes, Basil!”

The flames burned brighter. Simon reached out.

“Not this. This is the one thing that can’t be!”

Simon’s finger pressed against the needle, and a single drop of blood welled on his tawny skin. Green fire exploded outwards as the prince fell to the ground, entering a sleep indistinguishable from death.

Fiona inhaled sharply and froze in the air. Baz very nearly crashed into her.

“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong.”

“It’s more than hopeless now,” she said simply. “It’s pointless.”

Baz’s stomach felt like it was falling to the ground miles below. “You don’t mean...”

“It’s done, Basil. The curse has been fulfilled.”

Baz looked to the west, where the sun was setting beneath the horizon. Simon’s eighteenth birthday was just ending. And Baz had not been able to keep him safe. He felt tears roll down his sharp cheek. Baz did not even acknowledge them, let alone wipe them away.

“He’s gone,” Baz choked out.

Fion stared at her nephew in disbelief. Cynical and jaded as she was, she assumed that Baz thought of the prince like most fae thought of humans, just a brief distraction in his endless life. But Fiona recognised the broken pain in her nephew’s face. She knew it well. It had sat in her from the day Natasha died and onwards, maybe even since Ebb left. It was from the loss of someone you loved.

“Baz...” Fiona reached towards him. But he backed away from her.

“No,” Baz hissed. “Don’t touch me.”

He turned and flew off into the distance, towards the human castle.

Simon was found by a servant. He was brought to a bed of ivory and gold in highest room of the tallest tower. David ordered both the guards who were supposed to be watching him to be imprisoned and later executed. The king spent far too long standing over his son. He watched the deep, slow rises of Simon’s chest. It truly looked like he was merely sleeping. But he would sleep forevermore, never to take the throne in David’s place.

David looked at his generals, standing in a line on the other side of the bed. “Ready the troops,” he said. “We set off for Watford in the morning.”

They nodded once. Together the men marched out, leaving the sleeping prince alone in his gilded room. Once the door was closed, the window slowly pushed open. Baz clambered inside. His wings had trouble fitting but no mere glass covered hole would stop him.

Baz stood over him, just as David had. But unlike the king, he was not stone faced. He looked upon him with sorrow, lips and eyes trembling at the sight. Ever since he and Baz met, Simon had been such a being of endless energy. Now, he was so quiet and still, and it felt so wrong. Simon should not be sleeping for eternity in this golden bed. He should be running in fields and climbing trees and throwing mud. He should be alive.

Slowly, cautiously, Baz stepped closer. The words bubbled up from his throat before he could stop them.

“I’m so sorry, Simon,” he whispered. “This never should have happened. My aunt told me she cursed you because you deserved to suffer for your father’s crime of killing my mother. She said you were the evil in the world. But from the day I met you, I realised that couldn’t be true. How could someone so kind hearted be evil?”

He delicately placed his hand on Simon’s arm. His skin was still hot, but far cooler than ever before. “I should have told you about the curse and why I met you much sooner. But I was afraid. I knew that if you found out the truth, you would rightfully run away. Call me selfish, but I couldn’t bear that. You’ve always been the best part of my life. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Without thinking, Baz reached forward, brushing stray curls from Simon’s face. “Fiona says true love isn’t real. I don’t know if she’s right or wrong. All I know is that my life felt so colourless and empty before you. The whole world is so much brighter when you’re in it. You are-...were, the sun. And I’ve been helplessly crashing into you since we were children.”

Tears flowed freely from Baz’s eyes. He cupped Simon’s cheek. “I know you can’t hear me, but I have to say this.” He leaned down, brushing their noses together. “I love you, Simon. I believe I have loved you almost since we met. I’m not sure if this love is true, or how this curse is meant to be broken. Maybe it’s truly hopeless. I just wish I could see your smile one last time.”

Baz slowly raised his head. He knew it was incredibly unlikely, but he was still disappointed that Simon remained asleep, peaceful and beautiful. Maybe Fiona was right. Maybe true love wasn’t real. Or maybe what Baz felt for Simon just wasn’t enough. He tried to will the tears away, but they kept flowing.

He knew this was truly goodbye, the one he never wished to have. If only Simon had stayed in Watford last night. If only he did not care for his aunt so much he had to go. If only Baz had been able to remove the curse before all this had even happened. None of that mattered that now. It was too late.

Before he turned to leave, Baz wished to do one more thing. He focused on that one mole on Simon’s cheek. He had thought about kissing it since he was twelve. This was to be his last time seeing his human. So Baz leaned down once more, and gently brushed his lips on the side of Simon’s face.

“Sweet dreams, Simon,” he whispered.

Baz quickly stood and turned away. He could no longer bear to look at his eternally sleeping love. He would fly away and forget him. Live for as long as possible until the pain went away. But it felt so burning, he feared it would never leave. He would mourn for Simon for the rest of his very long life. Baz wished he could tear his heart from his chest.

“Hello, Baz,” a familiar, beautiful voice said. Baz gasped. His body froze in place while his mind processed the shock. He had already accepted that he would hear that voice again, let alone with so much kindness in it. Slowly, Baz turned, and was met with blue eyes, bronze curls, and a smile like sunshine on a summer’s day.

“Hello, Simon,” he said shakily.

“I was having the most wonderful dream,” he sighed. “We were sitting on our tree, watching the sunset. I couldn’t stay a word, but you were saying such sweet things.” His head raised off the pillow slightly, tilting a bit to the side. “I dreamt you told me you loved me. Was that part of the dream, Baz?”

Baz’s shaky legs finally gave out, collapsing next to bed. He kneeled beside Simon, hands on top of his. “No, Simon, that was real. Everything I said was real.”

Simon kept smiling. He reached out and curled his fingers into Baz’s silky black hair. “Good. Because I love you too.”

Baz did not know how life could from so dark to so light in such a short time. He let out a breathy laugh like a summer breeze. Tears kept falling, but they were from joy now.

“Simon...” he said, the only word that mattered.

And then Simon kissed him.

It was soft, simple, a mere press of lips. But Baz still felt like he was in heaven. He melted against Simon’s mouth. Baz ran his hand up Simon’s strong arm. Simon pulled slightly on Baz’s hair as he did some wonderful thing with his chin. It was glorious. All the sadness and fear vanished in an instant. Simon was warm and alive. Baz would never let him go again.

When they separated, they did not go too far. Their foreheads stayed pressed together. Simon and Baz’s tears mixed together and their smiles matched.

“I’m sorry Simon,” Baz whispered.

“I heard it all, Baz,” he replied. “Don’t worry, I forgive you. You were scared, I understand. And the curse wasn’t even your fault, love. I’m sorry. I didn’t know my father killed your mother, I’m so so sorry.”

Baz shook his head frantically against Simon’s. “There’s no need for an apology, love, you bear no your fault either.”

Simon just had to kiss Baz again. He had never considered kissing as even a mere concept before, but kissing Baz felt so unbelievably right. It was perfect. It was all he ever wanted for the rest of his life. But he knew he couldn’t have it here.

He reluctantly pulled off Baz’s incredible mouth. “We have to go,” he said.

Baz nodded. He took Simon’s hand tightly. “Let’s go to Watford. Just like we planned.”

Simon nodded vigorously with his bright grin. “Yes, let’s.”

Though Baz was strong, he would not being able to carry Simon’s weight to the ground so far below. So the men went through a dark and twisting servant’s tunnel. Their hands never let go of each other. Soon, they exited into the grand throne room, where a large balcony was off to the side. It was low enough. Baz tugged Simon forth. As they ran through the grand room, the sound of metal scraping against metal rang through the hall.

Simon looked around in confusion. “What-”

“Simon, look out!”

Baz shoved Simon out of the way with a burst of silver flames, just in time for a large iron net to fall upon Baz. He howled in anguish. The iron net turned orange with heat, burning the fae’s sensitive skin.

“Baz!” Simon screamed.

“We have the fairy bastard!” A foreign voice said. “Get him!”

Men in thick, heavy armour poured in from every side. One bore a helmet covered in golden paint. Simon recognised his blue eyes, for they were the same as his own.

“Please don’t hurt him, Father!” Simon yelled.

King David glared at his through his helmet. “He is the son of the enemy. He will fall just as his mother did.”

“No, please!” Simons struggled but the guards kept dragging him away.

Baz felt weaker with every passing second. The pain was making him delirious. He faintly heard Simon’s pleas. His care was endearing in it’s own morbid way. Through his agony blurred vision, Baz saw the human king kneel down next to him. His eyes were near sadistic in their fury.

“You thought my knights would not notice a fae entering my kingdom?” he growled. “I first assumed it was your filthy aunt coming here to finish Simon off. But you’ll do. No matter what, I shall have revenge for the curse you put upon my son.”

“I...didn’t do that,” Baz forced out. “I was only...a baby, when my aunt...cursed him. And I just, saved him!”

The king scoffed with utter disgust. “Mostly likely an accident. None of your family would ever care about mine.”

Baz stared piercing deep sea coloured daggers at David. “You, you sent your own son away. How much...do you care?”

Fire raged in the king’s eyes. He stood straight as he drew his sword. Just from looking at it, Baz knew it was pure iron. It could kill him in one blow. And he knew Simon would know too.

“Father, please,” Simon sobbed. “I love him, and he loves me!”

David looked on his son with disappointment. “Don’t be a fool, son. These creatures are not capable of love. He was probably going to use you in some way after you escaped. Once he’s gone, you’ll understand.”

The king raised his sword high above his head. Simon tried as hard as he could to escape but could not break free. Baz met his eyes from under the chains. He gave a weak smile to him. It’s okay, he told Simon with no words, I love you. Simon wanted to look away, but he stayed steady, to show Baz he wouldn’t be alone.

“No!” a far off voice joined in. “You shall not hurt him!”

Everyone looked to the right just before a blast of white hot fire hit the king in the side. His armour protected him from the burn, but not from the impact. He soared over them in an terrifying yet impressive arc. The knights rushed to aid their king, completely forgetting about their young prince. Simon ran to Baz immediately.

“Get this thing off,” Baz said, very strained.

“I am, don’t worry,” Simon replied frantically.

Simon hauled the heavy net off with great heaves. When Baz was finally free, he immediately scrambled in to Simon’s arms. Their hands digged into each other for a moment, desperate to hang on.

“So,” their saviour sighed, standing over them, “he was where you ran off to all the time, Simon?”

Simon looked up, and let out a soft, childish laugh. “Yeah. Baz said I couldn’t tell anyone about him, sorry.”

Ebb smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling up. “Oh, I’m not mad. I’m just glad someone could break the curse.”

Simon went to his feet and threw his arms around his beloved aunt. She laughed and hugged him back. “Thank you, Auntie.”

“You’re very welcome, my darling. I’m glad I got here when I did.” She pulled back to give Simon the same look she did when he broke a pot. “I would have been here sooner if someone had not stolen my horse.”

“Sorry, Auntie.”

Ebb held both sides of his face tight with affection. “All is forgiven, love. Let’s get out of here.”

Simon nodded. He held Baz’s hand again. Ebb and Baz, the two most important people in Simon’s life, looked at one another for a brief moment. Ebb knew immediately who he was, of course, but she cared little. They exchanged a smile and nod. That was all that needed to be said.

“Gah!” Ebb screamed. Her back arched as she fell to the ground. Simon and Baz froze in their tracks. King David stood behind them, an iron chain hanging from his hand. It dragged along the floor with grating screech. No one could see his face, but they all knew the king was scowling.

He whipped his chain again, aiming for Baz. But the fae extended his wings and flew back just in time, taking Simon with him. Simon clung to Baz for dear life. However, his leg hung looser than the rest of him. So David threw the chain towards his son. It wrapped around his ankle twice. Simon looked up at Baz, utterly terrified.

“Baz-”

David tugged, and Simon was pulled forward. Baz held his arms so Simon would not be torn away from him. Simon felt he was being ripped in half, but he would not let go. Neither he or Baz wanted to lose each other again. But David was just as stubborn in his hatred.

“What’s that?” a knight shouted.

“Get down!” Another added.

A enormous crash blasted through the room. Shattered glass flew in and rained up the knights like falling stars. A giant, gaping hole stood where a window once was. And through the whole came a terrifying beast, with large bat like wings, a black scaly body, and twisting grey horns.

“A dragon!” one of knights screamed. “Run!”

The dragon roared so loud the stone walls rattle. It took a deep breath, then let out a huge stream of green flames. It spread out over the entire floor. Every knight smartly turned tail as the fire licked right at their heels. The two thrones caught flame, burning like green funeral pyres in the dark. David was in such shock that he let the chain go slack. Simon frantically unwrapped himself. Baz dived down to pick up a still barely conscious Ebb, then flew the three of them further away. They all prayed this dragon wasn’t after them as well.

David drew his sword, his stance strong and defiant. The dragon approached, baring its long fangs. The king screamed and brought his blade down, but the dragon simply batted it away with one massive claw. Though there was a slight burn on it’s scales. David went for his chain. The dragon simply breathed more fire at his hand. He howled in pain then dropped it with a clatter. David scrambled backwards until he was pressed against the wall. The beast pressed its talons to his chest. Baz looked more closely at the creature. He gasped, for the dragon had deep sea grey eyes.

Slowly, the dragon started to shrink down. Soon it was the size of an adult woman. The black scales melted down into a loose robe the touched the ground. The wings became feathered, and along with the horns, became small enough for a person. Fiona rolled her neck as her face finally became normal once more. She ripped the king’s helmet away in spite of the burn the iron caused, for she wanted to see the king’s terrified face.

“Hello, David,” she growled. “It’s been a long time.”

“Fiona,” he whispered in shock. “What are you doing here?!”

“I came to save my nephew initially. If he did truly break the curse like I assumed, I knew you wouldn’t let him leave. Imagine my horror to see you play tug of war with your own son. I knew you were horrible to fae, but I didn’t think you would harm your own blood so quickly.”

“I was trying to save him!”

“No!” Fiona shoved her face into his. “No, you weren’t. You’re not the hero here, and neither am I. Stopping you from killing your son wasn’t a noble act. It’s the start of my long overdue penance for cursing an innocent baby.” She looked over and up at Baz, Simon, and Ebb, all staring at her with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, to all of you. What I did was wrong. I don’t ask for forgiveness. I only wish you to have happiness.” She squeezed harder on David’s throat. “Which means this is over, Davy.”

David growled like a caged dog. “He is my heir, your nephew is the enemy!”

“No!” Simon shouted. Baz slowly lowered them all to the ground. Simon stomped up to his father, scowling in his face. “Baz is not the enemy. He’s the one who saved me, who loves me, not you. You sent me away and it killed my mother. Then you nearly killed both Baz and Ebb today. I don’t want you in my life. Not now, not ever.”

The king tried to speak again, but Fiona choked him even more, his voice turning into a gasp. “Silence,” she hissed. “I know the idea of such love is unbelievable to you. Your heart has been consumed by darkness for years. Mine has been too. But Simon and Baz’s are not. They have a love strong enough to defeat my magic. As long as I live, which is a very long time, I won’t let them be hurt anymore. Especially not by either of us.”

Fiona finally dropped David, letting him clatter to the ground in a heaving heep of iron. She turned her back on him with ease. She felt disgust at him, but not anymore than she felt at herself. Fiona looked at Simon. He took her hand before she even opened her mouth.

“It’s alright,” he said. “No more apologies. There have been enough today. It’s all done now.”

Simon smiled at her, but Fiona did not feel absolved. She knew she would have to live with the guilt forever. It was the least she deserved. She nodded to Simon, and he nodded back. Baz ran up and fiercely hugged his aunt. He held on tight, for he still loved her. And she was relieved.

“We should go,” Ebb said from behind them all. She looked to Fiona, and have a small smile. Fiona smiled back. They had saved each other’s nephews. Though all may not be fully forgiven, they were at least grateful to one another. It was the start of healing.

The group walked away, towards the balcony, one low enough for Baz and Fiona to fly them down. Baz put his arm around Simon’s waist, wing protecting his side. Simon leaned against him like a strong oak tree. They stepped out into the open air. He looked out at the night sky. The stars were glowing beautifully tonight. Right now, Simon was sure he and Baz could shine among them.

In all the carnage, one decorative fire bowl remained. And in the shield’s shiny bronze surface, Simon saw the deranged face of his father rampaging towards them, sword held high.

“Baz, watch out!” Simon screamed. He violently shoved him out of the way, right into Fiona and Ebb. It all felt like it was happening so slowly. David charged through the open space with no sign of stopping. His crazed eyes met Simon’s for a single brief moment, before he tumbled over the edge. Falling to his death by his own design.

All four sat there in shock for a long stretched moment. Simon and Baz stared at each other with mouths hanging open. Simon slowly went to his feet. His steps were shaky as he leaned over the stone edge. There on the distant ground laid the limp corpse of the king. Red pooled around his head. Simon could not see, but he knew his father’s eyes would be distant and vacant, empty of his soul.

One arm went around his shoulder. Another held his waist. Baz and Ebb held him up while he processed all that had happened.

“Why?” Simon whispered.

“He could not admit defeat,” Baz said.

“He never would have let me go.” Simon turned to Ebb with tears in his eyes. “Would he?”

Ebb slowly shook her head. Simon sighed. He was some complicated mix of relieved and grief stricken. His father was a horrible man. But was still his father in the end. At least in his stubborn, arrogant death, he gave Simon safety.

“I suppose England needs a new king,” Simon said, trying to supress the heaviness in his heart with a simple truth.

Baz’s hand gripped Simon’s shoulder. “Do you need help?”

Simon turned to his love. Baz smiled softly, nothing but kindness and caring in his eyes. Simon reached up and cupped his face. “Thank you.”

The mean leaned forward and touched their foreheads together. Their breaths mingled and their smiles matched. “Always, my love.”

And so, once the dust settled and the treacherous late king was buried, the details were sorted. The council of lords would control the throne until Simon was of age. Simon agreed to take his place as king on one condition, that Baz be allowed to rule by his side. The council was hesitant but decided it was better to have one fae king than no ruler at all.

In three years time, after many meetings and readings and arrangements, Prince Simon and Baz were declared Kings of England together, united in crown and marriage, equals in every way. For the first time in its long history, one of the fair folk sat on the throne of England. And two warring peoples were finally brought to peace.

On that same day, Fiona brought down her walls of thorns. Watford no longer needed to be protected from humans. But Fiona did not stay there. She went to the royal castle along with Ebb, for they both were new advisors to the kings. After years of apologies and crying and contemplation apart, Fiona and Ebb had found love together once again. They were not exactly as they were before. But they were happy.

Simon and Baz ruled together with fairness and compassion. They helped all people, promoted peace, and brought in an age of prosperity. The citizens of Watford and England adored them, and they cared for them. But Simon and Baz adored each other more than anything else. Their love was nothing but true and never wavered, not once. Simon stood by Baz when the occasional ignorant human proclaimed a fae didn’t belong on the English throne. Baz let the years take him, sacrificing his fae immortality so he could grow old along with Simon. Even as the years passed, as their hair became grey, Goldie passed after loving them all her life, and their adopted children grew to adults, they still looked at each other they were the only people in the universe

After many decades passed, Simon and Baz defied yet another tradition. The kings did not rule until they died. Rather, they abdicated the throne to their daughter at age sixty. Both wished to live their final days in Watford, among its wonders and serenity. They were happy there for a long time, spending quiet days together among the twisting trees and glittering waterfalls.

Eventually, as all living things do, King Simon and King Baz passed away. Fiona and Ebb, still unaging together, found their nephews forever asleep on a bed of magical moss, hand in hand and smiling. Simon and Baz’s aunts were first to weep over their deaths. And when the news spread, both lands mourned the passing of their beloved kings. Ebb, Fiona, the royal children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren held a private funeral in the woods where Simon and Baz grew up. The great kings were buried together under the first tree they raced to climb, back when they were mere boys who played in the forest. It’s said their childish giggles can be heard in the wind whistling through those branches.

And that is the tale of the Sleeping Prince and the Fair Folk Boy.

———————————————

AN: No lie, I cried a bit when I wrote the ending. I get emotional over people being together forever even after death okay?! So yeah I'm a crybaby. I hope you all liked it! I hope it all made sense too. It took awhile to figure out how to fit the elements of Carry On into Maleficent, and I still feel like everything isn't 100% good or totally in character, and it sucks I couldn't find a way to work in Penny or Agatha. But hey if I didn't post something until I totally liked it, I wouldn't post anything. (I have anxiety, is it obvious yet?) I do mostly like how this turned out though. It was challenging but fun, and a good start to the 2019 requests! Feel free to send me a request on my tumblr, but I've currently got ten other requests in my inbox, so it may take awhile, sorry. Anyhow, hope you all liked it (you already said that stfu Theo jfc) and I'll see you peeps again soon :D

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #the mage #ebb petty #fiona pitch #maleficient au #fantasy au #fairytale #fluff #angst #mysnowbazfic

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