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Steve lay on the ground, felt the dry earth under his wings and listened into the night outside. Except for the slight rustling of the treetops in the gentle wind, there was nothing to be heard. He was not surprised. They were on the border between the two territories. This was no man's land. The nocturnal birds that prowled through the southern forest rarely came up here, and the wolves from the northern part kept their distance as well.
Steve stared up the hollow trunk of the massive Kéhi tree, which seemed to stretch for metres on end above their heads. The magical lights that floated like golden stars inside the trunk illuminated the wood around them and Steve saw the line where the bright orange-brown of the south faded into the darker almost purple wood of the north. He really liked this tree, which had grown, against all odds, so close to the edge of the freezing temperatures of the north. He had liked it long before it had become their hideout. It was a symbol of reunion between north and south, winter and summer, Bucky and Steve.
With his left arm he hugged his boyfriend a little tighter to his side and Bucky's head moved slightly on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Steve whispered, pressing a kiss to the thick brown hair.
"Is it time?" Bucky asked, sleepily lifting his head from Steve’s chest to look at him.
"Not quite yet," Steve replied. "You can go back to sleep for a while."
"Nah," Bucky said, stretching his arms and letting his blue wings flutter briefly. "I don't want to oversleep the little time I have with you."
Steve smiled. "I get that. But you looked like you needed the sleep."
"Yeah, well a certain someone wore me out pretty good at the beginning of this night," Bucky said with a cheeky smile. Steve could feel himself blushing. He loved Bucky and his brutal honesty that was so typical northern, but sometimes he still caught Steve off guard with it. It wasn't exactly the southern way of talking he was used to. And maybe that was why Steve liked it so much.
Bucky moved his head back into the dip above Steve's collarbone, sorted his wings for a moment and began to draw gentle circles over Steve's chest with the fingers of his left hand. Steve winced briefly as the cold fingertips touched his bare skin. They were not so cold that it was unbearable, but still cold enough to give him slight goose bumps.
"I'm sorry," Bucky said, pulling his hand away.
"No, it's fine," Steve said. "Please continue."
"But you're freezing."
"I'm not. It's fine," Steve assured him. "I wouldn't be with you if I couldn't handle the cold."
He felt Bucky grin against his collarbone before he slowly lowered his fingers onto Steve's skin again and this time he was prepared for the cold that emanated from them. Bucky continued to trace lines across his chest and it was like an ice cube sliding gently over his skin, leaving pleasantly tingling marks.
Steve lifted his free hand, the one that wasn't busy holding his boyfriend tightly, and slightly ran it up Bucky's cold left arm. Steve's warm fingers moved over the perfectly symmetrical ice crystals that seemed to sparkle in the golden glow of the magical lights above them and further up to his shoulder.
"I’ve never asked you before," Steve said as his fingers brushed over the purple scars that stood out on the pale skin. "Does it hurt?"
"Not anymore," Bucky said. He stopped drawing patterns and lifted his arm, twisting and turning his wrist in front of Steve's eyes. "It did hurt like shit when it was fresh, but now everything is fine."
Steve watched Bucky move his fingers as if to test their mobility. Although they looked like solid ice, they were flexible and their movements indistinguishable from a real arm. Not for the first time was Steve impressed by what the magic of the Zima was capable of. If Bucky had been from Steve’s tribe, he would probably have lost his arm forever.
"I'm glad they were able to heal you," Steve said genuinely.
Bucky put his fingers back down and continued to draw circles as he spoke. "You know that was only because of you."
"I know," Steve said contritely.
Bucky's head went up and immediately the circles on Steve's chest faded away.
"No," Bucky said firmly. "Don't do that again." He pushed himself up off the floor and in one smooth movement he had his leg wrapped around Steve's waist and sat astride him. Steve saw the tips of Bucky’s wings sticking up behind his shoulders, casting blue lights on his dark hair as he looked sternly down at him from above. "It's not your fault I was injured," he said, his voice suddenly carrying much more of his harsh Nordic accent. "The only thing you did was saving my life."
Steve tried to avoid his gaze, which was not easy at all when he was sitting on his hips like that.
"Bucky, I... "
"No, Steve, say it!" Bucky demanded. His face hovered directly over Steve's as he pressed his shoulders firmly to the floor with both hands. Steve felt his right shoulder becoming very cold as Bucky placed his entire icy hand on it. "It's not your fault."
"It's not my fault," Steve repeated.
Bucky leant further down until his nose almost touched Steve's. "And now say it again and pretend you mean it."
"It's not my fault."
"No, it's not," Bucky whispered. He lowered his head, bridging the last few inches between them, and gave Steve a kiss that brushed over his lips like a breath of fresh wind. It made Steve's entire body shiver with excitement and desire and he felt his skin flare up hot where Bucky touched him. Steve wrapped his arms around him and pressed him tightly against his chest while their lips and tongues fought a full-fledged battle for a second. It was fire versus ice until they found a mutual rhythm to move to and their kiss became relaxed and easy. It felt easier than flying, easier than breathing, easier than anything he had ever done. Kissing Bucky was the easiest and most wonderful thing in the world and Steve never wanted to part from him again.
But eventually Bucky pulled his head back slowly and looked at Steve with a soft smile on his lips. Steve said nothing but just sank into Bucky's ice-blue eyes, that could hold him captive like nothing else. Their colour couldn't be described by anything he had ever seen. They were clearer than the sky he knew and bluer than the great lakes of Panadunia. They shone brighter than stars in a dark night and yet all these descriptions did not do justice to reality.
Steve could still vividly remember the day he had first looked into these eyes. These eyes had been the reason why he had not been able to just walk away from Bucky on the battlefield. He had been wounded badly, an easy target, but it had taken him one look and Steve had instantly lost all his prejudices against the Zima tribe and carried him to safety. In retrospect, that had been the very day he had fallen hopelessly for Bucky, only he hadn't known it at the time.
By now, however, he was very much aware of it. And he had no intentions of ever letting him go again.
At least not until sunrise.
Bucky rested his head on Steve's chest again and Steve felt his breath brush lightly over his skin.
"How much longer do we have?" Bucky asked quietly. Steve lifted his head a little and turned it towards a knothole beyond which he could see the night sky outside. He counted the stars inside the small circle.
"Half an hour at the most," he said sadly, dropping his head back down and running his fingers through Bucky's hair. Bucky sighed and snuggled closer to Steve’s chest.
"I hate this," Steve mumbled. "This whole war is just... what's the point?"
"Oh, I can tell you exactly what the point is," Bucky said bitterly. "But you don't really want to hear it."
"I know your tribe wants a share of our resources. But there are better ways to solve this than to start a war," Steve said dejectedly.
"You tell that to my father and I tell your father how to have a fair negotiation," Bucky said. "God, I wish you were finally king, Steve. Things would be so much easier."
Steve grimaced. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. Let's not forget that it was your tribe who started the war. But if you were king..."
Bucky snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. You know damn well I will never be king of anything. I'm fourth in line."
"You could marry a king," Steve suggested, grinning.
"That would still make me a prince. Not a king," Bucky retorted.
"True," Steve admitted, "But that would also make you my husband."
Steve felt Bucky smile on his chest. "I like the sound of that."
"Me too," Steve said. They were silent for a while, reveling in the feeling a potential wedding evoked in them. Steve was absolutely sure he would never want to marry anyone more than Bucky. If it were up to him, he would propose to him on the spot. Unfortunately, that was not up to him.
Bucky seemed to think something similar. "Let's be real here, there will never be a wedding between a Zima and a Matahari. Our tribes won't let us. Not even for the sake of peace."
"I know," Steve sighed, "They'd rather slaughter all of us on the battlefield than unite the kingdoms."
Bucky suddenly sat up and looked thoughtfully down at Steve. It was a look Steve had seen many times before and it rarely ended in anything good. It was the look Bucky put on when he was plotting something.
When Steve couldn't bear the silence any longer he asked, "What are you thinking about?"
"What if we just ditched the war?" he asked, looking down at Steve. "Just go, leave all this crap here behind and live together."
Steve looked at him. The idea was dreamlike, but that was all it was and all it would ever be. A dream.
"Where would you even want to go?" he asked Bucky "Your people would kill me if I ever set foot to Lumi-Strana again, they've been very clear on that. And my people won't tolerate you as well. Besides, you would probably melt in the hot lands of Panadunia, ice boy."
Bucky didn't respond to the quip. He had got up to his feet and was now pacing back and forth in their tree hideout. His wings vibrated with excitement. "What if we go east? Along the border."
"The ocean is in the east," Steve said, sitting up so he could better face Bucky.
"I know. But what if we crossed it?"
Steve stared at him, aghast. "You want to cross the ocean?" Bucky was audacious, he knew that. But crossing the ocean was suicidal. They couldn't swim, it was too wide to fly across and their wings wouldn't withstand the salt water. He couldn’t possibly want to get on one of those dubious and slightly scary ships that landed there.
But Bucky's blue eyes sparkled at him enthusiastically. "If it takes that for me to live with you, then yes. Absolutely."
"But..." Steve began again, trying to maybe talk some sense into his boyfriend. But Bucky interrupted him before he had even started.
"I'm tired of hiding, Steve. I love you. I am happy with you. And I want the whole world to know it."
He knew exactly what was going on inside Bucky. Steve too wanted to shout his love to the world, to call him loudly and officially the Man At His Side. "But we can't," Steve said desperately. Fate had other plans for them.
"Not here, I know," Bucky replied. "But across the ocean, things would be different. Just think of it. No more sneaking out after sunset, returning before sunrise, hoping nobody sees us. We would have our own little tree home, a real one, not like this. And we would share a bed, every night. We would wake up in the morning next to each other without being afraid one of us might die on the battlefield the following day."
"Bucky..." Steve had stood up as well and was now looking into his boyfriend's face, who was so enthusiastically imagining a future they would never have.
"We would go on fun flights together, up to the highest trees. And we would sit there with a picnic I prepared and enjoy the view over our peaceful home. We could marry, Steve."
"Bucky," Steve said again and stepped closer. He took Bucky's hands in his to stop him from gesticulating excitedly.
"I can't abandon my people," Steve said quietly, "Not while we're at war. I'm..."
"Heir to the throne, I know." Bucky sighed and looked dejectedly to the ground. "I know you can't. But for a minute, it was nice imagining it."
"It’s not our time yet,” Steve said softly and hugged Bucky tightly. “Once the war is over, I’ll go with you wherever you want, I promise.”
In the distance they heard the first birds awakening and chirping in the mist of dawn. Steve turned his head to look out through one of the larger knotholes. "We should go," he said. "The sun is rising."
Bucky nodded. "Please don't die today," he said.
"I won’t if you won’t," Steve replied. It was their usual goodbye. Every morning, as they parted again and returned to their respective tribes and to their legions, they promised each other not to die. And suddenly, the realisation hit Steve unexpectedly hard. They were at war. It was a cruel bloody raging war and no one could foresee for how long it would last. It wasn't just a stupid line they threw at each other that had become an inside joke. It was the undeniable truth. Every day, one of them could die. Bucky had almost died once already. There might not be an "after the war" for them.
"Let's do it," Steve said without giving it a second thought.
"What?" Bucky replied, perplexed.
"Let's go east. Cross the ocean," Steve said, wrapping his arms around Bucky's waist who suddenly looked hopelessly confused.
"But, I thought... your people?!"
"The Matahari had kings before me and will have kings after me," Steve said. "My father is not on the verge of death, they have time to find someone else to take this stupid throne. I never wanted it anyways. I want to live with you, Bucky. I want to have our own real tree home, I want to wake up next to you in the morning and I want to marry you."
"You serious?" Bucky's eyes darted from left to right as he looked at Steve, trying to tell from his eyes if he really meant it.
"I've never been so serious in my life," Steve confirmed. "Let's meet at sunset, we'll bring the essentials we need and set off tonight. Maybe we can reach the shore before someone even notices we're gone and take a ship at dawn."
Bucky's eyes had started to sparkle again. "You're not kidding, right? Tell me you're not kidding."
"I'm not. I love you. Let's do it."
Bucky threw his arms around Steve's neck for a kiss, so impetuously that Steve stumbled back a step and bumped his back against the wood of the tree jamming his wings in between. When they separated again, they were both out of breath and even Bucky's pale cheeks showed a hint of pink.
"See you at sunset," he said, pressing another quick kiss to Steve's lips, before he left their hideout.
"I'll be there, I promise," Steve replied, stepping out into the dawn to face the last day they would ever spend separated.