Archive of Our Own ^beta

Christmas had always held a weird place in Miky’s heart. 

He’d never quite managed to have a genuinally enjoyable Christmas: one with white snow and laughter, warm wine and a deluxe dinner. Some years he had been stuck at home, his friends texting ferociously from a mile away. Other times Covid reminded him of how much he missed his family, unable to visit them and stuck in a house with a collapsing team.

Then there was the Christmas of 2020, probably the worst time in Miky’s life, where Luka had left for NA. It had been horribly bleak. Miky remembered barely breathing as the Croatian waved his last goodbye, a small remorseful smile on frost-bitten cheeks. (Miky had hidden pathetic tears all through Christmas, buried in his room and ignoring the rest of the world.)

So in many ways Miky knew he should thoroughly hate the season.

But there was something about the sparkling lights, the teasing cold, the stupid Christmas music he couldn’t stop singing. He couldn’t quite hate it. 

So here, lying on his back as the last signs of day faded away in the sunset, he wasn’t sure how to feel.

In three nights he was going to be the happiest man alive. He was sure of it. In three nights it would also coincidentally be Christmas. And he would be the happiest man alive regardless.

As loneliness surfaced again Miky grimaced. God how he hated these stupid marital traditions.

Only three more nights left and he could finally see him again.

His body was taut with tension, mind reeling with a hundred thousand thoughts. He had no idea how he was going to get to sleep with so much bothering him. Miky would manage though, he always had.

He slowly shut his eyes, doing his best to shove everything as far away as physically possible. He had perfected repression (He was a pro-gamer afterall) and this time was no different.

Miky fell into the realms of sleep.

===

The carriage rolled to a stop before the magnificent doors of the Perkovich estate. Miky was practically vibrating in his seat, though he wasn’t sure if it was the nerves or the apprehension. His shaking hands smoothed out his gown, the maid beside him tutting as he nearly pulled a pearl from the skirts.

“Master Mehle,” Rasmus brushed Miky’s hands away. “Stop touching the dress, you're going to ruin it!”

Miky only rolled his eyes, his fingers instead tangling into his hair. He wasn’t as nearly ready for the ball as he’d hoped.

“Shut up Ras, and call me Miky.” He’d practically begged for the petite brunette to just drop the formalities, but the kid was as determined and stubborn as ever.

Ras only grinned, kicking his legs as a footman reached their carriage door, opening it gently and inviting them into the soothing night. 

It was a gorgeous evening, the sky studded with thousands of stars that had Miky wishing he was at home in his garden. The footman didn’t wait, instead ushering them forward up the dramatic steps. Miky raised his head in an attempt to look elegant, though he knew with his posture he looked more like an angry swan, and followed along.

While he was trying to at least seem somewhat graceful Rasmus fussed with his skirts, forcing Miky to nearly trip at least a hundred humiliating times. By the time they’d reached the doors Miky was thoroughly miffed, and Ras looked far too happy with himself. Miky watched with a sigh as his best friend and maid, who was always so intent in irritating him, spotted the guards inside. It didn’t take more than a second for him to duck inside, leaving Miky standing in the cold alone.

Ras had not shut up about one of Perkovich's guards lately, and though Miky had no idea how they could have possibly bumped into each other, he had seemed very smitten. 

“You wouldn’t get it! He’s really strong, and handsome, and sweet, and-”

Miky felt himself shiver as the horrible rants of a besotted Rasmus haunted him. But, as much as he disliked the entire cliche romance, he was somewhat happy his best friend had found someone, even if Miky would have preferred less dramatic monologuing along the way.

Miky, on the other hand, was absolutely hopeless when it came to the romantics expected of him.

He was the first-born of a minor Lord, sent into the world as an eligible consort to make his family proud. Hence his far too expensive gown. Rasmus had full on laughed when Miky had tried it on for the first time, pointing out that he looked so much like a fairytale princess. Miky begrudgingly had to admit that it was true.

He was swathed in all kinds of floaty indigo blue fabric. It slipped off his shoulders softly, revealing a bit too much of his chest and collarbone. Beads and diamond enamored the bodice and flourished in the layered puffy skirts. Miky had never been particularly proud of how he looked, but even he could tell he looked desirable.

Now, standing in the palace’s doorway, with his friend long gone, he could practically feel the hungry stares.

Miky took a deep breath and stepped in.

The first thing that struck him was the ballroom, or ballrooms, themselves. They made Miky’s own modest manor seem like a child's playhouse. He was sure that his entire home could fit into the first chamber alone. He let himself drift gently from room to room, eyes scouring the enchanted lights and the enriched flowers that Miky thought would look lovely in his winter flower beds.

Then he bumped into another guest and he was struck by the second thing. There were far too many people around him, each downed in pretty gowns and glaring with thinly-veiled jealousy. Miky really shouldn’t have been surprised. This was the Perkovich Winter ball afterall, the most sought after ticket that many families had probably killed for. But there was still so. Many. Damn. People!

He tried to catch his breath, politely curtseying at the stranger he’d collided with and attempting to mumble an apology.

When he looked up he was struck with the final thing.

This stranger was beautiful. And Miky felt as if he was on fire.

The man stood about his height, dark hair styled elegantly. He was dressed to the nines: a deep indigo cloak sweeping off one shoulder, the patterns of silver wrapping across a firm chest.  Miky couldn’t look away. 

He gave Miky a small smile,  intelligent verdant eyes scanning him up and down. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Miky bowed his head again, smoothing out his gown nervously. “I wasn’t looking.”

“It’s fine.” He was so joyful, so bright, his voice heavy with familiar Slavic tongue. Gesturing at himself with an annoyingly charming grin. “It’s hard to not be impressed, right?”

Oh, he was one of them .

 A twinge of cool irritation flooded Miky’s system, his sharp tongue swelling angrily. “I wouldn’t say that.” 

The man seemed astounded for a second, then his lips twisted into a disbelieving laugh. “Do you not know who I am?”

“Should I?” Miky raised an eyebrow, fingers fisted into his skirts. 

He didn’t react to the hostility, instead bouncing a little, almost glad. “No, of course not. I'm nobody.”

Miky was sure he’d had enough. He turned on his heel easily, the throbbing crowd seemed like the perfect exit. The stranger was, however, unwilling to let him slip away.

“Tell me, whose hand do you belong to?”

Miky hissed between his teeth. Really? What on earth was this man thinking?

“I belong to my own.” He snapped back. “It’s none of your business who my betrothed is.”

This time the man got the hint, taking the smallest step backward. Miky hoped that this would be the end of it, but instead the man bowed again.

“I apologise for any offence, I was simply surprised that-” He cut himself off, nursing his crumpled lapel. “Could we try again?” The turn of his lip seemed so gentle and genuine. Miky felt the warmth from before returning.

He was probably going insane having a conversation with a handsome stranger. Though he was likely noble Miky couldn’t recognise him, and therefore his status must not be too high. There would almost certainly be no political alliance but-

Why on earth was he even considering this?

The image of that hopeful little smile struck his heart stubbornly.

He pressed a gloved hand to his temple, muttering a quick prayer to his loosening mind. Then he curtseyed in turn.

“I think we must.” He sighed. “My name is Mihael Mihele, heir to the Western county lordship.”

The man’s eyes glittered with interest, but Miky didn’t feel threatened, instead pleased.

“Is this the first time you have been to the Perkovich ball?” The man inquired eagerly, smiling a little when Miky nodded his head. “That’s a shame.” There was a second as the man stared, apparently dazed. “Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it! It’s the best in all the lands.” 

Miky narrowed his eyes at the proud and pompous words slipping from the man's lips. What connection did this man have with the ball, to be so proud of a simple dance? Then he connected it, the embroidered and elegant garbs finally making sense. This man must be-

“Are you the Perkovich’s organiser?” His head tipped to one side subconsciously, a small admiring look appearing in his eyes. “I’ve heard much about your work, actually, you are organising the coronation to the prince after he is betrothed, correct?”

The man before him at first seemed even more confused than ever, but then, as if he’d been struck by genius, he brightened. “You are correct, yes.” He bowed deeply again. “O-Oberon? A-As-”

“Astor.” Miky nodded his head approvingly. He had been following this man’s work for years; his flowers, in particular, had caught his eye (It wasn’t his fault that he had an enthusiastic green thumb). 

From there Miky found himself in a surprisingly pleasant conversation. He’d never really been a talkative person, certainly not at a ball such as this. But he couldn’t quite help it. Astor seemed genuinely interested, and Miky couldn’t lie, the man’s attitude was somehow attractive.

He had an odd sort of charm. Astor was quick to proudly confess his dreams, though Miky couldn’t quite understand why they involved so much conquering. The dreams themselves were twisted in arrogance, confidence and a sort of slightly-larger-than-usual ego that was strangely endearing. Miky was quickly spun into fantastical tales of strength, power and impressive feats. He couldn’t quite understand how a semi-famous ball organiser had done so much at such a young age.

“That’s when I sent a sword right through his chest!” Astor acted out the motion with a proud grin. He glanced at Miky, trying to goad a reaction. Miky just chuckled, amused.

“That’s very dramatic.”

“It is, isn’t it.” Astor’s grin shone. “I’m pretty good at the entire questing business.”

“While planning the next Perkovich ball?” 

Astor seemed to be put out a little at the mention, his hands tightening around his flute of champagne. “Yeah.” 

Miky decided to humour the eccentric man, rolling his eyes teasingly. “Rescued any princesses then?”

He launched into another epic retelling of some apparent business he’d been given by the King and Queen themselves, Miky laughed along.

The wondrous stories kept Miky entertained and genuinely intrigued for the rest of the evening. The dances swelled and pulsed, but Miky was perfectly happy spending time in a less crowded corner. Astor let him stay quiet, excusing himself every few minutes and disappearing into the crowd, returning with another glass of golden wine. The man was clearly popular, guests whispering and watching as the pair of them laughed into the night. A few even bowed to Miky as he walked by, apparently having associated him as Astor’s companion.

The masses were, however, getting more rowdy now. It was nearing midnight, the allotted time for the Royals to appear at the top of the stairs. Miky remembered faintly that they were supposed to introduce the final dance, the bane of his existence. 

It was a Saturnalia tradition as old as time itself. At midnight the moon would be at its peak, the stars shimmering through glass windows. The legends said that those who danced together would become fated, true soulmates. Nowadays it was simply an announcement of courtship, but it was still taken deadly seriously.

He had spent months and months practising every formation and sequence. It was his only real opportunity to earn his betrothal. To make things worse Miky hadn’t mingled tonight, really. Astor had been his only partner, and though Miky wouldn't mind a betrothal with the man (a small part of him would very much adore it in fact) he doubted Astor thought the same.

Miky buried that thought, accepting his defeat and sending a small prayer for his future self. Hopefully in a year he could correct his mistakes, but for now, he glanced at Astor’s shining eyes, he would let himself enjoy the moment.

The stories ebbed away, Astor slowly poking curiously into Miky’s own past. He bounced through different topics: favourite foods, family traditions, everything under the sun. Miky couldn’t help but be flattered at the clear fascination. 

“Have you celebrated Saturnalia properly before?”

Miky hadn’t since he was young, back then it was simply a time to get gifts. Now it was the time to decide his future.

“What do you know about the royal family?”

Astor asked him a lot of questions about the Royals, and Miky supposed it was because he worked for them. In truth Miky could barely answer any of them, he had never hoped even in his most distant dream to catch the Prince’s eye, so he’d simply never bothered to learn.

“Tell me everything about you.”

That question had forced Miky’s skin into a bright red. He’d stuttered a little, but Astor only listened fervently, eyes sparkling. 

“Are you here to catch someone’s eye?”

Miky was sure he was going to implode when that one slipped from Astor’s lips. He had only nodded stiffly before slurping at his champagne, trying desperately not to meet his curious gaze.

Before long midnight had arrived. Miky was about to make a comment about how stupid the dance was, but when he looked up Astor had disappeared.

He was about to call out politely, but his timing could not have been worse.

The trumpets bellowed, announcing the arrival of the royal family. Miky couldn’t care less, only trying to find Astor in the crowd.

The crowd was thick, all filing towards the largest central staircase, where two golden doors swung open. The music was louder than an inferno, screaming power and begging for respect. A few of the nearby suitors lost their footing, scrambling closer. Miky hid a laugh in his hand, nestled snugly in a corner. It was hard to believe that only seconds ago all of them were simpering around gracefully.

Spotlights appeared from nowhere, illuminating the King and Queen easily. Golden sparkles poured from the ceiling, the smallest hint of magic sending whirl-winds through the mass of excited guests. The glitter formed all sorts of different motifs: butterflies, horses and - of course - the imperial crest. Miky couldn’t help but be impressed at Astor’s designs, he must have put a lot of thought into each.

Miky’s brow furrowed as the crowd began to mutter, apparently the Prince would be formally presenting himself, the bachelor every family was looking for. From his corner he watched as the King and Queen rambled into a short speech, politely thanking everyone. They made sure to mention the most famous families, clearly establishing their alliances. Then, with a curtsey and bow they parted ways, allowing for their undoubtedly spoilt son to enter the ballroom-

A very familiar face stood at the very top of the stairs.

Miky gasped audibly, his heart sinking. What on earth was Astor doing up there? Surely not-

“Thank you everyone for attending such a momentous occasion.” Astor’s voice was clipped, not quite nervous, but not quite comfortable either. “I am Prince Luka Spomenka Branimir Perkovich.”

A hundred different emotions flashed through Miky’s mind. Betrayal was the strongest, though.

“It is that time of night, the stars will bless each of you.”

Miky wasn’t focusing, tears building. Why on earth did he think he was going to be different? He was one of them, Miky should have guessed- He didn’t notice the music begin its waltz, the gasps of the crowd as they parted easily. A certain royal beelining towards him.

“Heir Mehle.”

Miky bounced at his name, his guard built up stronger than ever. 

“Would you care for a dance?”

Astor- No, the Prince bowed down at Miky, and suddenly the spotlight was on him.

Fuck .

Hundreds of hungry, intrusive eyes were scraping against Miky’s skin. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Was this some kind of joke? Had the Prince just been trying to humiliate him the entire time?

Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, the harsh pain of heartbreak buried in his chest. He took one look into who he had thought was Astor’s eyes, watching as hopeful green met his own, and then he fled into the crowd.

He screwed his eyes shut, the dress’s long train sending him tripping again and again, his frustration only growing. The corridors got smaller and smaller, the guests thinning until he was the only one. Miky only rested when he was sure there was nobody around, ducking outside.

He wiped away his tears with rough, shaking movements, cursing his own idiocy for falling so quickly. The cold was soothing, the fresh air doing good for his exhausted lungs.

It was only once he had calmed down, when his chest stopped heaving, that he saw the garden.

Under the moonlight it seemed like a scene from his dreams. Winding hedges circling beds of pale flowers; blues, pinks, purples. It was a tapestry of all sorts. Notes of warm lights floated above them, the tell-tale magic warming Miky’s fingertips. He’d never been particularly gifted in the mystical arts, but his manor was close to many magically strong communities. They had all been surrounded with a certain spark, a fizz of mystery across each of them.

This garden, though, was pulsing with it.

The events of earlier were forgotten as Miky slowly traced his hands across the closest petal. It was a pale carnation, the tips of its ruffled edges catching the light ever so faintly. Miky nearly fainted as the flower responded to his touch.

It almost hummed, the vibration ever so soft, then the veins in Miky’s wrist shone. He felt his weak magic flow into the petals, and it glowed a bright blue. It was like a chain reaction, the next flower glowing in kind. Soon Miky was surrounded by a hundred softly luminous flowers. He was close to a different kind of tears. 

“There you are!” A breathless voice made Miky flinch, the flower’s lights immediately fading away, even the floating light nodes seemed to dim. 

Miky was pleasantly surprised as Rasmus ran into his arms, eyes wide with worry. A guard stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking away bashfully. 

“Hi Ras.” Miky couldn’t hide the small smile, awkwardly patting the youngest on the back.

“I was so worried.” The words were muffled against the gown, Miky couldn’t care less that Rasmus’ tears were probably ruining it. “I’m so sorry, I knew I shouldn’t have left you- But they’re looking for you, now, and I, uh- Lets go home.”

Miky glanced at the guard, who seemed to freeze as their eyes met. He was heavy-set, the ceremonial armour fitting him quite well. He had an uncomfortable smile, like he had never been used to so much attention, but there was undoubtedly a kind sincerity about him. He understood why Ras liked him so much.

“I’m not going to ruin your night Ras.” He gently drew away, hands cradling Ras’ cheeks and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’ll go home alone, it should be fine.” Ras looked up at him with so much emotion. “Really, it’s not your fault the Prince was such a dick.”

The guard laughed faintly at the comment. “In love, more like it.”

Miky and Ras both stilled, panning over to the man in the corner. 

“Martin,” Ras narrowed his eyes, curious. “What are you talking about?”

Martin seemed to weigh up his choices quietly, but one look at Rasmus caved him in. He sighed, pressing his head into his gauntlet.

“I don’t think Luka realised how stupid he was being.” Miky was hanging on every word, the shimmer of green eyes returning in his mind. “He’s been watching you all night, I don’t think he meant to upset you.” Martin laughed a little. “He’s a bit oblivious when it comes to this sort of thing, I think he hoped that because he was the Prince you would forgive him for being too awkward to introduce himself properly.”

“Introduce himself properly?” Miky hissed, Rasmus clinging to his arm. “He lied about who he was!”

Martin rolled his eyes. “He wanted to impress you.”

“Isn’t being the Prince impressive enough?” Ramsus pointed out, tipping his head to one side. “How do you know this anyway?”

The guard scratched at the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m his personal guard, actually, and one of his best friends-” 

A painfully familiar voice broke them apart. “Martin! I’ve been looking for you everywhere, have you found him yet-”

All three turned to find the Prince watching them.

Miky narrowed his eyes, Ras was making a noise almost like growling beside him. Martin just sighed. “I think you should explain yourself, Luka.” He gestured to Miky’s irritated features.

“Fine.” The Prince nodded eagerly, eyes darting to Miky almost desperately. “But, alone?”

Ras actually looked like he was going to maul the man to death, arms still wrapped tightly around Miky’s slim waist. Miky glanced at Martin’s pleading look, then to Ras’ fiercely loyal hug. He pressed another kiss to his maid’s hair, ruffling it gently.

“It’s okay, I can handle myself.”

Ras reluctantly pried himself off, glaring at the Prince the entire time. Before he disappeared down the corridor he left Miky a final message. “Kick him in the balls if he does anything, Master!”

“For the Gods’ sake, Ras, my name is Miky -” He cut himself off with a sigh, it was a lost cause.

The Prince was staring at him intensely. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, y’know.” He confessed, hands crossed almost stubbornly across his chest. 

Miky huffed, but he couldn’t help the satisfied curl in his chest. “Well, if you’d only told the truth things might have gone better.”

There was an awkward silence. The Prince was too stubborn to apologise properly, that was for certain, but a small part of Miky was already dangerously close to forgiving him. 

Then, with a small sigh and a chuckle, the Prince bowed down again.

“Would you give me one more chance?”

He knew his answer before he opened his lips. “One last time.”

Miky cursed himself into oblivion, the Perkovich’s heir smiled at him like he was an angel. He curtseyed to hide his blush.

“Mihael Mehle.”

“Luka Perkovich.” Pride still slipped into his words, but they faded quickly enough.

They both raised their heads, and the silence was back. The pair of them just took each other in, properly, without the guise of royalty, or a mask. Then, Miky hadn’t been sure why, but Perkovich bowed once more. 

His hand was extended elegantly before him, gloved.

“Let me do this properly,” Miky blinked. “Would you please dance with me?”

The faint music from the ball behind them seemed to disappear with the blood pulsing in his ears. Surely the Prince would understand what this meant, to dance at this time of night. The clear declaration they were even making, even if they were  alone.

“You don’t mean-”

Perkovich rolled his eyes fondly. “Surely I don’t have to do this a third time.”

Miky laughed a little in disbelief, eyes wide. 

“So?” The prince tapped his feet against the stone teasingly, and Miky’s hands were shaking.

“Fine.”

It was far too easy to take Perkovich’s hand in his, to slowly begin the waltz. He had practised it well, a hundred thousand times in his ballroom, guided by his sisters. Now, on the other hand, it felt like a completely different affair.

Perkovich’s hands on his waist carved a path through the moonlit garden. The moon and stars seemed to be watching them, but Miky couldn’t care less. He focused raptly on glittering verdant eyes, heart racing, but also strangely relaxed. He felt almost safe in these arms, and even though he was still angry, unbelievably so, he pushed the thoughts away.

It was just the two of them.

The slow waltz became frantic and passionate, the music swelling and speeding up the pace. It had always been a strangely varied dance, but one that most only did once in their lifetime. Miky had always thought it looked a bit foolish, transitioning between steps so fast, but it seemed to make so much more sense now.

It matched the beat of their hearts just perfectly.

Perkovich grinned, easily keeping up with the brutal pace. “This is the best part.”

Miky was about to send a barbed response, but he was interrupted by the sudden feeling of floating. He gripped the Prince’s hand tightly enough that he hissed, but he couldn’t care. He glanced at the ground, nearly screaming as it slowly got further away.

“What on earth-”

“You really haven’t been to these balls before.” Perkovich laughed, spinning Miky in his hold, hands brushing against bare skin just for a second. It was enough to make Miky gasp. “It’s the old Saturnalia enchantments.”

They were dancing on air, the light from the moon and stars setting a pathway that only they could walk. The dance kept its pace, and Miky was letting himself relax a little.

“You’re mine.” Perkovich whispered into the night, Miky was probably not meant to hear.

Miky stared at the Prince, the sharpened jaw, the small smile, the eyes wide with wonder, the small pinch of confidence on his lips. The drama of before was forgotten, his heart soaring, warm and entwined with another’s. It was clearly magic, a binding of sorts, but Miky couldn’t complain. It felt as if he’d done this a hundred times before. He was warm, loved and finally home-

“I’m yours.” 

The future Queen and King danced through the night.

===

Miky woke with a start, his hair sticky against his forehead. His limbs were sore, aching, as if he’d been dancing all night.

Dancing ? Why on earth would he have been dancing?

He closed his eyes with a sigh, hands running against his bruised muscles softly. 

Faint images of a lavish banquet, the chatter of a thousand graceful mouths, silks and satins brushing against his skin. Then a set of deep green eyes, glittering, laughter so familiar that it hurt Miky’s chest.

“Hey Miky! It’s practice day!” Rasmus broke him from his thoughts, and Miky regretted ever asking the tiny Dane for help.

He didn’t even bother to ask how they had managed to break into his hotel room. The fantasy faded away, instead giggling and a pair of hands dragging him out of bed and into the freezing cold. Marcin had been enslaved by Luka, so Martin and Rasmus had quickly become his problem. Strangely, he couldn’t say that he minded it at all. 

He hid his smile as they fussed over him. It was going to be a good day.

It was two nights ‘till Christmas, and Miky was exhausted.

His entire day was spent with his friends forcing him to try every piece of clothing he had brought with him, then once that was finished he was talked through each part of the ceremony in excruciating detail. He had nearly fallen asleep at least three times and at one point Martin had to physically drag him to the next boring activity. 

Miky would never understand why they had to put so much work into a single day. But he supposed he could live through all the chaos for a little bit longer. The stupid arrangements weren’t the worse bit anyway.

The worst part of it was missing Luka.

It was pretty petty, he knew, to be missing someone after only two days. They had been separated for months over 2021, and yet right now he almost felt as if he’d forgotten Luka’s smile. (Which was a stupid thing to think, as not only had he spent hours trying to commit it to memory but Luka was also literally his lock screen.)

He had collapsed on his bed with a groan, once again doing his best to ignore the fluttering loneliness in his empty hotel room. It would only be two more nights, and then he could get it over with and bury himself into Luka’s arms-

It was fine.

Two more nights.

Miky tried to calm his racing heart, eyes sternly focused away from the closet (his suit was sitting there, cleaned so thoroughly that it was probably glittering). He took painfully long breaths, bundled himself up in the warm hotel blankets, and let himself drift asleep.

===

Miky watched his breath smoke in the air with a small smile.

He had never expected to sit on the side of a battlefield in his life, and certainly not for months on end. He had slowly grown used to the distant rumble of war, the aching in his bones and the strain in his shoulders. It was simply the cards he’d been dealt, and he was just going to have to suck it up and deal with it.

The small moments of relaxation were becoming more distant with every passing day. Rumours of the growing Noxus armies were spreading quickly through the camp. At least 9 separate scouts had gone missing too, and Miky knew it was only a matter of time before he lost someone from his own regiment.

So, even if only for a brief second, he was making the most of the cool morning air. It wasn’t snowing quite yet, but the sky was blanketed with soft nothingness, and Miky could almost taste the snowflakes. The forest looked untouched from up here in the trees, he had never been more glad to have flung himself up the branches as soon as the rest of his team had disappeared.

It felt nice to be alone for once. 

He let his wings finally relax, unfurling them with a pleased sigh. The wind gently carded through his feathers, kissing his reddening cheeks. He let his eyes flutter shut, the quiet whistling of nearby birds so kindly familiar. 

“HEY!”

Miky almost fell off his branch, he hadn’t heard anyone get behind him, and that terrified him. “W-what?” He swung his head wildly, heart practically jumping from his chest.

“HA!” His captain was laughing his arse off beside him, swinging dangerously off the branch. “You should have seen your face!”

Miky should have relaxed, but he didn’t. Having the vastaya behind him only made his anxiety worsen. “What do you want, Luka?” He tried to roll his eyes convincingly, but Luka only grinned.

“Just wondering why a beautiful boy like you is all alone so early on Yule morning.” He snickered, unaware of Miky’s growing flush.

“I was enjoying the peace and quiet, but now that’s all ruined.” Miky grumbled, shifting himself away. At least like this he wouldn’t have to see Luka’s stupid smile.

He didn’t see Luka wilt at the snark, the only thing he did notice was a sudden comfortable silence. Miky did his best to will himself into staring at the purple-blue leaves of the tree he had settled in. It only lasted for a second though, his dumb crush forcing his eyes to find Luka’s.

He sucked in a breath roughly.

Luka was so handsome that it hurt .

His dainty purple-feathered ears were droopy, relaxed, and they looked so soft Miky had to stop himself from brushing against them with his own. The purple-pink wing (one that Miky always thought matched his own well enough) swayed lightly, creeping close to Miky’s shoulders unconsciously. Then there were the eyes- Damn those eyes. They were perceptive, sharper than Miky’s own, and they absolutely shone . 

Luka had always seemed a bit on the chaotic side, a born warrior. Ever since they had met, Luka had offered protection, warmth, a home, as well as all of Miky’s dreams. He had whisked Miky away from his monotonous life, and he found he didn’t mind one bit.

Here, however, he made the world seem so much simpler. The silence was soft between them, Luka’s eyes fixed to the horizon, his smile slipping just for a second as he observed the emptiness.

“It’s pretty.” Luka whispered, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. 

Miky swallowed. “Yeah.” 

He followed the warrior’s gaze and found a pair of birds, brightly coloured, sheltered in a hastily-made nest. He laughed a little, he’d never taken the man to be such a softy.

“They’re sweet, aren’t they?” Miky tipped his head to one side easily, the birds beginning to chirp. 

Luka, in a moment of vulnerability, chirped back subconsciously, cutting himself off by slapping hands across his mouth. Miky nearly fell off his perch again in laughter. Luka’s eyes traced Miky’s wings and his smile with ease, matching it with his own chuckle.

“Shut up!” He whined, swiping wildly at nothing. “It’s not my fault I’m a stupid bird!”

“I am too, you know.” Miky raised a teasing eyebrow and a single feathered wing. Luka gave him a pointed look, as if saying ‘ You’re just as stupid. ’

They held it for only a second, before bursting into more laughter easily. And suddenly it was as if an edge had been taken off, the war forgotten. It was only them.

“Sometimes I forget how cool the world is.” Luka pointed out, swinging his legs as Miky kept giggling. “The birds, and everything, and-” He glanced at Miky’s lips, not being very subtle at all.

Miky tipped his head to the side, curious at the pause. “And?”

Luka shrugged. He looked everywhere but Miky, scanning the foliage. A bushel of pale white fruit caught his eyes, suspended above Miky’s head.        

“The berries are the best part.” Luka smiled gaily, the nerves gone, dainty fingers plucking a white berry from the branch above them.

As it neared perfect lips Miky felt strange dread creep up his spine, only realising a second before disaster. In a quick slap the berry was tumbling into the fields below and Luka was staring at him as if he was insane.

“I-It’s mistletoe.” He explained, shaking, if he hadn’t intervened, would Luka be dead? “It’s poisonous, you can’t really use it for anything except-” His eyes found the bundle of mistletoe above them both, and he felt his cheeks flush horribly.

“Except what?” 

Of course Luka wouldn’t know, why would he? He was a warrior, he’d never had to live among humans, always preferring the fight over the friend-

Miky tangled his hands in his own orange feathers, pretending to groom them awkwardly. “For a weird little human tradition.” Luka kept staring at him. Miky felt as if his skin was on fire. “Y-you kiss people under it.” 

“Oh.”

Miky was too scared to look Luka in the eye. This was so damn embaressing , if only the stupid vastaya had left him alone-

“Well, why don’t you then?” 

What ?

He snapped his face towards the other, mouth wide. “W-what do you mean?”

Luka grinned, though Miky swore it looked a little nervous, and shuffled closer. It was then that Luka’s wing touched his own. Miky tried to ignore it, really, but his feathers preened automatically. 

“Kiss me.”

Miky couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I mean, you don’t have to of course-” Luka’s words caught up with him, his confidence collapsing as he tried to move away again. “Shit, it’s kinda weird isn’t it? Human traditions ahah-”

Miky’s wing wrapped around Luka’s shoulder, soft feathers brushing against his jaw. 

“Okay.”

“-Oh.” Luka blinked, his own ear-feathers vibrating as he leant gently into the touch.

Miky’s heart was beating so fast that he was almost sure that Luka could hear it. They both looked pretty foolish as they shuffled slowly closer, two birds staring so intensely at each other. A pretty pink creeping up Luka’s skin, his eyes fluttering shut as they neared.

The words slipped from Miky too easily. “Adorable.” 

There was a moment where Luka opened his eyes just a crack, glaring fiercely, but Miky only laughed, anxiety forgotten as he let their lips meet.

It was sweet. Miky was still laughing, and soon Luka was chuckling too. Their lips fit awkwardly, but they both kept chasing the other’s touch. It was more like a sprinkle of short pecks than anything else, pulling away for a quick burst of laughter before diving back in. Their wings entangled, and their hands did too, keeping each other close.

“Run away with me after this damn war.” Luka breathed between kisses, his grin wide, a hand fisted in Miky’s shirt.

He didn’t hesitate. “Next Yule, we’ll be gone.”

Luka pulled away just enough that their fingers could meet comfortably, their pinkies hovering just above each other. “Promise?” 

He pressed another soft kiss to the side of Luka’s lips, joining their fingers confidently. “I promise.”

Two birds sat above a battlefield, falling in love.

===

Miky woke up with bruised lips and a stupid smile he couldn’t wipe off his face. He couldn’t quite explain why he felt so damn happy, but everything in him seemed to flutter with joy. It was like he’d been given the best gift possible, even if it was originally caused by a stupid… something.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to wipe from his mind. It really seemed like nothing more than a distant dream, even though he was sure it had been more than just that-

His phone rang, his eldest sister’s number flashing onto the screen.

Ah, they had arrived.

“Hey Miky!” He could practically hear her heart-shaped smile. “Croatia is so lovely! It’s snowing so much too!”

Miky laughed, his siblings had always been one of his weak points (Luka was another). “It’s winter. Of course it is.”

His youngest sister took the phone easily, mumbling excited nonsense into the microphone. Even though she was only 8 she seemed as if she had the entire world planned out. He only managed to make the last sentence out. “-We’re waiting at the cafe, the one with the pretty lights and really tasty Madjarica .”

It should have been hard to narrow down, but he knew immediately, There had only ever been one place in the entirety of Croatia that made her this excited.

“I’m on my way.” 

Within a few minutes he was out the door, the ghost of kisses still faintly hovering against his lips.

One more night till Christmas, one more night till the big day. He’d tried to forget it as well as he could but it seemed like the world was not on his side. His mother had reminded him over and over again about the plans:  finalising seats, the menu, anything she could get her hands on.

His siblings hadn’t been any easier to deal with, half of them teasing him constantly, the others just sharing knowing looks. It was exhausting, but he was still smiling all the way.

The bed felt cold, lonely, but Miky wasn’t going to let that bother him today. Apart from the constant remainders it had been incredible to see his family again. He’d made them proud, and he knew it.

It was the hardest night to fall asleep. His stomach was stirring with dread and excitement, each time his eyes closed a hundred predictions flashed in his mind. Even his age-old repression tactic didn’t seem to be helping. With an embarrassed sigh he used his last resort. Once, when blackout drunk, managed to record Luka talking quietly to him. It was obviously something to do with league, but Miky had clearly been too out of it to care. It was now his final chance to properly relax. 

As soon as he pressed play the embarrassment faded away, his entire body fading into peace.

“ -and so that’s why Jarvan is super fucking good bot, I mean imagine him with Neeko sup- ”

Miky was buried in sleep within a minute. Eyes fluttered shut as his dreams took him away.

===

Luka came home that night strangely quiet, dropping his briefcase by the door without care. Miky had activated quickly, smoothly bowing to his master. But Luka had only brushed him off, marching ahead to the kitchen without so much as a smile, eyes filled with something Miky had never been taught to recognise.

He cautiously followed. “Your dinner is waiting for you.” 

Luka seemed to flinch at Miky’s robotic voice, was he sick? He’d certainly never done that before.

Once Miky had been welcomed into his new home Luka had always been a genuine figure. He insisted that the android call him Luka, nothing more and nothing less. Miky made himself busy, cleaning, caring, doing the best he could. Luka, in turn, treated him almost as if he was a real human. Miky got a room, an ensuite, anything he could possibly want. It was far more than most other androids would ever dream of.

But it had been almost a year now, just the two of them, and Luka had never acted like this.

He refused to meet Miky’s eyes as he settled into the seat, he still hadn’t said a word. Miky would have been worried if sick if his heart could beat.

“How was your day?” 

Luka’s hands shook as he clambered for the cutlery, the delicious meal cooling before him.

“I-” He swallowed roughly, glancing at Miky for only a second. “I-It was fine.”

Miky sat down across from Luka fluidly. It was a regular routine, Luka would return from his work at 7, Miky would keep him company. He would make some confusing jokes, ribbing Miky until he somehow learned to roll his eyes, and then sit him down in front of the TV, asking for opinions on the newest reality tv show episode.

This time Luka froze.

“Are you okay?” Miky asked gently, something in him wanting to extend a hand.

Luka didn’t answer his question, staring fiercely at his steaming plate.

The whirring of the aircon, the flashing of the holographic screens, the occasional burst of noise from a passing vehicle.

“Do you want to be free, sometimes?”

Luka still refused to meet his eyes.

Miky cocked his head to one side, the gears in his head turning with small clicks. “Free? What do you mean?”

The man grit his teeth. “I wish-” He cut himself off, the smallest tinge of pink on his skin. 

He must be ill. 

Miky reached a palm and pressed it against the flushed, warm skin. The temperature appeared to be normal but-

Luka jumped back, hands clasped over his mouth as if he was stifling a scream. His eyes were wide, and Miky felt… scared?

He’d never felt that before. He’d never felt anything before.

The only thing he knew was that it hurt that Luka was looking at him as if he was about to explode. 

“L-Luka?” His voice stuttered unnaturally.

Luka’s Adam apple bobbed. “Miky, do you want to be free?”

“I don’t understand-”

“Why don’t you get it?!” Luka shook as he yelled, staring so intensely at Miky. “I-” He took a deep rattling breath. “I just want you , the real, actual, living, breathing you.”

Miky didn’t quite know what to say to that. He wasn’t real, he wasn’t living or breathing. He was whirring away, mechanical limbs clicking uncomfortably. The words felt wrong in his mind, though, so he decided to just stay silent, watching as Luka buried his face in his hands.

“The strikes, and the protests for android rights-” Miky thought back to the news he’d been reading, he’d almost forgotten about it all. “Aren’t you like them? Don’t you want more ?”

The android sat perfectly still, blinking slowly as the words processed. 

“Do you want me to?”

Luka seemed to grow only more frustrated. “Of course I do- But I-” He tightened his fingers into soft hair, tugging at his own head roughly. “I want you to want it, I want you to be alive-” He screwed his eyes shut. “I want you to love me.” The words were whispered, but Miky caught them all too easily.

He wished he hadn’t heard them at all. 

He opened his mouth to reply, a new warmth surging through his chest, but something in him clasped down against it. Something cold, metallic, stubbornly crushing the warmth and replacing it with the regular neutral cold. Glassy green eyes wandered to the window instead, widening slightly.

“It’s snowing.” Miky murmured, the warmth from earlier itched at the back of his mind again.

Luka, at first, looked like he was going to scream, then cry. Then he looked out the window too, smiling to himself at the fat white flurries. 

“I’ve never seen snow.” As Miky looked back at his master the warmth was there again, but only for a second. Miky knitted his eyebrows in irritation, tipping his head to one side. “I want to touch the snow.”

“You want to-?” Luka went from confused to ecstatic, his small smile turning into a beam, and it was almost like he’d never been upset at all. “Well, let's have a look then, shall we?”

The dinner was left forgotten as they both pulled out of the chairs, Luka leading them to the barely used balcony. He slid the door open, the slightly muffled bustle of a city returning in full force. 

Their apartment wasn’t too high above the ground. But it was high enough that the cheaper grounded cars looked more like ants than automobiles. Miky had sometimes stood out here, watching as other androids hung washing across from him, often beaten and bruised. He’d wondered why Luka had been so kind to him.

The thought was forgotten as snowflakes drifted lazily through the air. They were larger than Miky would have expected, large chunks of white crystal that seemed so pure compared to the grime of the world below.

Luka made himself comfortable on the railing, leaning on his forearms and watching the snow fall. Miky, on the other hand, was busy focusing on the warmth, once again just there, out of reach. His head fell back and he just let his body do what it wanted, the snow landing on his synthetic skin.

He was struck by a strange sensation.

“It’s cold.”

Luka’s eyes found Miky’s, a calculating look in his eye. Then, very gently, he entwined Miky’s loose hand with his own. The warmth was slowly coming back, the slightest hints of butterflies in his chest cavity.

Long fingers led him to touch the gathering flakes on the cold railing, and Miky shook. The tips of his digits were freezing.

He gasped a little, not that he needed to breathe at all, but it just felt necessary. Luka’s eyes, in return, shone.

“You feel it?” 

Miky nodded stiffly. 

“Oh.” His master was actually shivering, though not from the cold. He squeezed Miky’s hand tightly, mouth falling open as the android flinched. 

A shaky hand rose to Miky’s cheek, cupping his cool skin. Miky didn't quite know what section of his code possessed him next.

He twisted his head slightly, the fingertips of his master drifting across his jawbone, then he shifted the soft palm open. He looked right into Luka’s twinkling eyes as he pressed his lips into the flushed warmth.

A billowing of heat scrawled his insides, snow landing on his manufactured hair. Luka was staring at Miky with that unrecognisable look in his eye again. Miky would have probably stared back if he wasn’t admiring the white crystals that fluttered onto a pretty nose, melting in a way that only a warm living being could cause.

How did it feel to be alive?

“What do you feel?” Luka’s intense confidence had returned. 

Miky’s mind buzzed faintly, slowly building to something . “Cold.” He answered simply, the snow tumbling softly through the city.

Then he looked at Luka, who was looking at him as if he was ethereal. For the first time his lips tore into a smile. Luka laughed in disbelief.

He felt that heat scream into his body, arms falling limp as he pressed that cold, metallic part of himself aside. He saw so much, he looked at Luka and felt so much-

“I feel warm with you, though.” The rumble in his chest crescendoed, and he choked in a laugh. It was robotic, awkward sounding, but it felt indescribably new. 

That barrier was gone, the cruel logical part of him ripped away, something strangely human revealed deep inside.

Miky glanced back at his master, his friend, his companion, the man he owed his everything to. Luka stared back.

His master just gaped at him for a second, a hundred different emotions flashing through perfect earthy-green eyes. Then a familiar spark of mischief, Luka seemed alive for the first time that evening. He reached behind him, brushing the settled snow into his palm.

Miky barely blinked before he was pelted with a snowball. His hands shakily wiped the cold flakes from his face, ears burning as Luka’s bright laughter echoed.

“Couldn’t you just let us have a moment?” Miky pouted. That was something new, too.

“It’s cringe.”

“What are you talking about? You were the one who got all emotional earlier-”

“SHUT UP! That never happened.”

There he was, the Master that Miky remembered so well, he rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Of course not.”

His precise aim and mechanical movements allowed him to pin an even larger snowball straight at Luka’s face. Laughter pulsed through his chest, a little less awkward than before but still strange.

“THAT'S NOT FAIR! YOU’RE A ROBOT!” The words were supposed to be teasing, but the final statement seemed to cause Luka to frown, as if regretting that he’d reminded himself.

Miky was quick to defuse, head cocked to one side with a strange grin. “But I’m your robot.”

Luka sputtered only for a second, refusing to answer and instead just throwing more snow at Miky. It wasn’t ball shaped, instead random clumps he had managed to grab in time. Miky dodged easily and carefully formulated his own reply. Soon enough they were having a proper snow fight.

It was odd to say the least, Miky was still scarily efficient with his aim, hitting a little harder than probably necessary, but Luka didn’t seem to mind. He was back to his usual self, laughing, making stupid jokes and being fiercely competitive. 

After nearly an hour it was clear Miky had won, Luka collapsing into the snow with a laugh. Miky lay down beside him a little stiffly, the cold he felt not really bothering him. He made sure to add a little heat to his skin though, enough that Luka wouldn’t freeze to death.

They both laughed, slightly delirious. 

Miky shifted his head, facing his Master. He just watched Luka laugh vibrantly, eyes darting to warm lips and a smile he wished he could properly match. Luka caught him staring quickly enough, his laugh quietening down slightly.

“It’s Christmas.” Miky stated, a small hint of a fonder smile in his voice.

“It is.” Luka’s eyes didn’t leave his.

“Merry Christmas then, Luka.”

Their lips met and Miky couldn’t help but feel alive .

===

Miky awoke with his hands shaking, heart beating far too fast to be healthy. He couldn’t decide why: was it because of the strange dream? Or the fact that today was the day?

Three nights had passed.

His alarm bleared in his ears, the stupidly cheery tune grating his very soul. But not even that could ruin his day. He slapped it off the table and lazily slipped from his sheets. His lips permanently twisted into an eager smile.

It was already far past midday, but Miky was finally awake enough. His sisters had already sent him plenty of excited texts, Rasmus had further called him a hundred separate times, even Martin’s blank and emotionless contact had appeared.

Within a few minutes he had his suit shoved into his taxi, disappearing into the snowy city. Croatia had never looked more picturesque as Miky daydreamed of the day he’d been waiting years for.

Once he’d arrived he’d been forced into a changing area, the church decorated perfectly. Miky hummed happily as he saw all the flowers gathered in corners, the baby blue and white blending perfectly. Some strange part of him hummed at the combination in approval, even though Miky had never been the gardening type.

“We’ve been waiting!” His best man pouted, tugging Miky in front of a mirror. A crowd of his closest family members bustled around, adjusting his suit obsessively.

Miky had argued against a dress ferociously, but the veil was sticking, much to Luka’s glee. Miky almost regretted the entire event, but he supposed it was worth walking down the aisle if just to marry the man he loved. (He was still irritated that he’d lost that particular game of rock-paper-scissors. Luka would have looked lovely in a dress.)

Before long the bells were ringing and Miky was standing at the altar, Rasmus sniffing loudly at his side. 

Luka was staring at him, mouth falling open so innocently. Miky just wanted to kiss him already. They exchanged vows in the traditional Catholic fashion, as normal in Croatia, the priest blessing them with a smile. Then, with shaky hands, they slipped shimmering rings onto each other's fingers.

“You're so beautiful.” Miky whispered, suddenly so much more confident. 

Luka flushed, doing his best to hide it with a teasing grin. “Aren’t I meant to say that?”

“It’s true.” He simply shrugged, hand angling Luka’s jaw so he could kiss him sweetly. 

The cheers were deafening, as well as Rasmus’ intense happy crying. 

Maybe Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

===

Later that evening Miky went to bed sore in all the right places, water dripping from his hair and down his burning skin. His shirt and shorts sat loose on his slim frame, the bruises from half an hour still very visible. He was relaxed, back bowed with a soft smile that belonged to his fiance- No, his husband , alone.

“Miky-” The voice was muffled in the swathes of warm blankets, the dirty sheets dumped in a corner. “ Unh - come here.”

That soft smile grew to a grin, and Miky felt his heart swell. 

It didn’t take long for him to crawl into the big bed, the smaller form of Luka quickly pressing against him. They shifted slightly, Luka’s face just a breath away from Miky’s, legs tangled. Miky draped a hand over Luka’s waist, drawing him closer, the other cradling Luka’s palm between them.

The rings on their fingers glittered in the moonlight.

Miky was sure he’d never felt so at peace.

“This is pretty cool, isn’t it?” Luka laughed softly, his eyes squinted with love, Miky knew he looked the same.

He chuckled, squeezing Luka’s side. “It is, you dumbass.”

Luka slipped closer, his head tipped back, asking for a kiss. Miky did eagerly, a chaste press of the lips. It was so different to the hot, hungry desperation from before, but it felt just as satisfying, if not more so. They broke into mellow giggles, simply enjoying each other’s existence.

Miky was hit with the strangest wave of déjà vu as they just stared at each other. 

It felt as if he’d done this so many times before. His eyes fluttered shut as the smallest hint of music, pressing of feathers and unbelievable warmth flooded him. It felt as if he was on the edge of something immense, a hundred more long lost memories buried just out of reach-

“Miky?”

He blinked. Luka was watching him, not concerned, but curious.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Miky smiled, smattering a round of kisses against a faintly fuzzy jaw. “I just feel like this has happened before.”

Luka seemed to understand all too easily, eyes sliding closed as exhaustion slowly caved in on him. “I feel the same.”

They were on the precipice of the biggest discovery either of them would ever know.

But it was late at night, and Miky was tired.

Plus he finally had Luka back in his arms. He would figure it out tomorrow, they had all the time in the world.

So for now he gently pushed Luka’s head into his chest, his own chin coming to rest on the other’s soft hair. The night was slowly rocking them away, but Miky managed to whisper before he went back into his and Luka’s dreamworld.

“I love you.” His lips brushed against a warm forehead.

“I love you too.” Luka murmured, shifting as close as he possibly could.

It was Christmas eve.

Miky was the happiest he’d ever been.