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The Prince of Frost was often called a cold man by nature, and he often supposed people were right to call him such.
He could be viciously protective of his lands, when need called. He could stare down any faerie fool enough to approach his lands petitioning for help, should they waste his time. Even the Unseelie didn’t dare cross him by now, knowing well what he was capable of and what he would do if motivated to his lands defense.
But… it was very easy to doubt those rumors when you happened to catch sight of the way he interacted with his wards. The Burroughs’ neglected children, the curious (and often loud) younger twins of the line. When a simple word was all it took to get someone cast out of the Fortress, how could anyone believe such a man would look at those children with such tenderness? That he could laugh let alone that he did, watching the twins frolic in the snow, calling for him to play snowball fight or climb trees, bundled tightly in their coats with cheeks and noses rosy?
Frost dearly loved his wards, in spite of what his supposed nature suggested. Thus, it wasn’t questioned when the two would appear and go directly to his study: a door few fae would dare knock on. But Nessarose and Nisselrode were hardly ordinary humans, let alone fae, and in their starvation for love and guidance the study was often the first place they could be found. Today was another such day, the little girl and boy standing in front of their father patron’s desk with hands behind their backs.
“My, my. Little wards, what brings you before me today?” The Prince asked, peering over his desk with a small frown. “Such dour looks. Has something happened?”
“Um, no…” Nissel began— “Not yet! It um, will be happening.” —and Nessa finished, in that way she often did.
“Will be happening, you say,” he hummed, dipping his pen into an inkwell to finalize a contract. “Shall we be going to battle, little ones? Perhaps I’ve been too gentle-handed with your… “father”?” (He blanched nearly calling Darcy Burroughs such, but held composure. It felt like a lie even if it wasn’t, and fae physiology reacted ill to the concept.)
“Not war! No battling,” Nissel continued, folding his hands in front of him now as his hat slid over his eyes for his sister to shove back up onto his head. “Um, do you know much about holidays from the uh… place faeries aren’t?”
“The tamed realms,” the Prince offered.
“Yeah! Do you know stuff about them?”
The prince hummed again, setting his pen down. “I can’t say I do very well, little snow angel, but perhaps I could be motivated to learn. I suppose one must be coming?”
“Mm-hm,” Nessa now shyly spoke up. “We call it Saint’s Night. It’s um, there’s a big celebration, and presents, and sweets. Dead relatives come visit you, and Nightmaren can come see you in dreams more easy. Lots of families get all together…”
Nessa’s trailing off was all he needed. Another year, another place they were not welcome, another reminder that they were family in name only - nothing more. “Ahh, I see. Quite interesting, Snowflower - it sounds remarkably like our own Winter Solstice celebrations, though perhaps we are less celebratory than mortals tend to be. Even more so here in the Winter Court. I’d be remiss as a host not to ask you what you would like for such an occasion.”
“Oh…” Nessa looked down, only for her brother to seize her hand and meet their father’s eyes. “I-It’s okay, we don’t—“
“We want to have a big ball and Nessa wants a big, fluffy dress!”
“Nissel, no!!” Nessa’s voice briefly hit a pitch enough to startle Borea from her perch and get her hatchlings to peek their tiny heads from below her. Nessa’s hand lashed out, quicker than a snake, trying to cover her brother’s mouth in panic.
Unfortunately for her, Nissel was more determined than usual and had managed to lean away with a huff, straining to stay out of her range. “Back at the manor, we always had a big huge party, and we’d dress up and hide under the table with brownies, and Lissa always got these huge pretty dresses to wear for the family gathering and Nessa always—“ Nessa’s second hand now strained to try and stop her brother, but only brushed his soft cheek. “—always looked at Lissa’s dresses like they were the prettiest thing in the world, and any time we spun around, she’d imagine a big fluffy skirt like Lissa’s and lots of shiny fabric and—“
“Stop stop stop!!” Nessa’s panicked protests only continued, whirling to look up at the Prince of Frost in fear. “I-I’m sorry, we know that’s a lot, we don’t—“
“A lot? On the contrary. If that’s what you want, it’s in my power to give,” Frost spoke softly, deciding not to let on that the second the words fluffy dress came up he was mentally thinking of how quickly he could reach a tailor. “After all, you are wards of my court and warlocks of my pact. Did you not think you could ask me for things, little ones?”
This in turn got Nessa’s panic to slow and her hands to pull away from her brother’s face as she looked up at him. Again, she hardly needed words to say no, sir, I didn’t think I could.
He’d have to work on that with both of them. Frost rose from behind his desk, kneeling to gently pat the twins’ heads. “We’ll have a ball and invite as much of the Courts as you like. Summer and Winter,” he said with a knowing smile. “So while I enlist Qidan in starting the preparations - and getting ahold of my court tailor - I have a very special task for you two to see to.”
“Rules?”
“So, so many rules.”
Frost’s proclamation had caused quite a stir across the Winter Court, a stir enough that Gloxinia had been permitted to come visit the twins there while her parents brought the Queen’s response (and, very likely, ensured the Prince was well and not in what could be called some kind of “mood”). She was currently sat in the twins’ room - a cozy spot in the icy fortress, always one of the warmest places in it (though still chilly, by human standard, the twins seemed to like the cold more) full of tall bookshelves and soft, warm beds, a little tea table by the bright windows currently holding a teaset the twins had made themselves earlier.
(Gloxinia could tell they made it. It was too sweet to be anything the servants would make.)
Nissel was laying on his stomach, brows knit together in intense concentration as he studied the etiquette book in front of him. “And apparently, we get to make MORE rules.”
“We were taught etiquette for humans,” Nessa complained from her back, holding her book over her face. “But fae nicey-rules are more.”
“So father— erm, His Highness said as part of the festivities of the ball, we got to make a new rule per person. So we’d fit in more. But iunno what rule to make yet,” Nissel sighed, looking at his sister (who had now managed to drop her book on her face). “Maybe we should say the rule is no rules.”
“Nope, that’ll make people do mean things,” Nessa’s reply was muffled due to the textbook over her face. “But what kinda rules would be fun?”
“Milord, Milady—“ Gloxinia paused, looking to the twins, only to get a chorus of “it’s okay!” “We’re friends! You can talk lots with us!” “we like hearing you talk!” and a blush on her cheeks as she adjusted her glasses on her nose. “Maybe you’re overthinking it? If you’re making rules, then doesn’t that really make the ball more of a big game we’re all playing?”
“Oh!” “You’re right, ‘loxi!”
“How are you so smart? Did they put extra smartness in you when you were born?”
Nessa finally sat up, the book falling off her face as she beamed. “It’ll just be like a big game everyone’s playing with us! Nissel, we’ve never had that many people play with us before!”
“Nobody’s played with us before,” Nissel said, quickly adding an “other than Father or Loxi, of course” after a second’s pause.
“I’ve got it for sure now! Nissel, my rule will be “if Snowflower or Snow Angel break a rule and you see it, you have to break the rule as loud and dramatic as possible! The sillier the better. Whoever makes us laugh most wins.”
“Ahh, no fair, that’s really good!! What am I supposed to pick now?!”
The twins continued to lightly squabble, their giggles joined by quiet tea sips and the occasional suggestion courtesy their faerie friend - eventually pulling themselves up off the floor with her, stumbling steps becoming new and more fun dances, trading Gloxinia and a stuffed bear between each other as a partner for hours until the group fell back to the floor in a happy heap.
(Nessa didn’t let go of Gloxinia or Nissel’s hands even after she fell asleep on the floor, snoring in what she would jokingly call a very elegant and demure fashion later.)
Thus, a new tradition was born to the Winter Court: a Solstice Ball, with new “rules” chosen by Frost’s wards each year as they grew. Some years were simpler than others (everyone wears a feather and you have to guess the bird, if you miss, you’ll start tweeting, last one standing wins!) and others more complicated (everyone wearing the same color is on the same team, and you have to show us something that has your color naturally!) but the twins’ little rules-games became a highlight of the seasons as they grew. Slowly, they were being acknowledged less and less as Darcy’s abandoned children and more and more as The Prince’s wards or the little prince and princess (a phrase that never failed to make them giggle). And through all of it, right by their side, was the girl who would grow up to wield a blade in her lady’s name.
Gloxinia had grown in their time apart - carrying a broad blade as tall as she was now, able to gracefully cross the battlefield without ever once touching it, scarlet eyes deepened to autumnal reds, tumbling violet curls framing her face in a way that only ever would remind Nessa of floral tendrils reaching for the sun… their time apart had only seen the knight grow up to be beautiful. A fact she had commented upon at their reunion, dashing down the hallway to meet her with a joyous shout of her name, only to falter briefly enough to speak her thoughts on Gloxinia’s now-adult face.
Nessa had known since the start of their time as companions that she liked the pretty knight, and a century’s slumber didn’t change that. It only made her heart hammer more, made her more aware of how her stomach turned flips and fluttered, made the blush she thought she could hide all the more prominent. And yet… and yet.
She perhaps should have known better. After all, laid out on their stone sepulcher, hands clasped tight as if sleep would tear them away from each other - once Nissel was asleep, the thought Nessa let carry her to dreamland was imagining Gloxinia’s smile when she came back. Even as she told herself not to foolishly imagine someone she so adored being happy to see her again, she fell asleep imagining what her knight’s kiss could be like.
A century later, Nessa awoke alongside her brother and still felt her mind linger on that very spot. Even as they crossed the threshhold to return “home”, Nessa felt herself wonder just how much Gloxinia had changed when she herself had changed so little.
Naturally, with the twins’ return to the Court, their tradition resumed. Solstices would come, new rules would be in play - and Nessa, every year, would save her first and last dances for the faerie who’d stolen her heart long before she was even aware it was worth stealing. With every eye on them in those moments, the archfey’s daughter and her favorite companion waltzed with smiles and laughter: Gloxinia gliding even as she chafed under the gazes of the other fae in the room.
Of course, she didn’t have any choice but to glide - her injury kept her from touching the ground like other fae - but that didn’t stop Nessa from devoting those dances solely to the knight she so adored. The knight who longed to be out of the spotlight, but always held it in Nessa’s eyes.
It surprised nobody the rule she requested that year was nobody’s feet may touch the ground. The ballroom had been a swirl of wings and hovering charms, the twins’ father making use of his auroral wings to glide his son around the room (and stunning the entire Court with the sound of their Prince’s laughter, true and loud, for the first time since his crowning) and Nessa, unsteady on her feet, clung desperately to her knight with an awkward laugh.
“Months, I practiced,” she said from Gloxinia’s shoulder. “Months! And I still dance like a baby deer with no floor to push on.”
“You’re doing well,” Gloxinia laughed in turn. “Your ankles are the problem, they’ll wobble at first, but you’ll be able to get used to them. Treat your feet like rudders and the air like water, your shoulders a sail… you’ll understand soon enough. Though…”
Gloxinia rather suddenly paused, lips in a thin line. “I’m not… fully sure that I do. Why choose a rule you’d struggle with so much, my lady? I know you’re having fun trying, but… perhaps my question is silly when shame has never been a word I’ve seen in your mouth.”
Nessa hummed slightly, seemingly pleased with herself. “I picked it for you, silly.”
“For… me?”
“For you!” Nessa giggled, letting herself twirl away. “You always come onto the dance floor to meet me. You always save the first and last dance for me, even if it hurts—“
“Of course I would, why—“
“So it was my turn to do something nice for you, Gloxinia. Instead of making you cross the veil to meet me where I was, I made everyone come meet you,” Nessa said with a bright, toothy smile. “So even if people are watching, they see you. They see the most graceful knight in the winter court, waltzing their princess as she stumbles. For a moment… everyone in the room can see you the way I always see you.”
(And, selfishly, she would admit years later: because I knew you’d have to keep me steady, and I wanted to feel you holding me close.)
It surprised nobody that Nessa refused to take any other partners that night. Nor would anyone dare try: their Little Princess Snowflower had practically melted into the arm around her waist, eyes dreamily focused on the knight her heart had chosen when it was still too small to understand the choices it was making.
Nessa’s heart understood where it was supposed to go, even when it was still healing. Or perhaps it had always lived in Gloxinia, safe and sound, just waiting for Nessa to come find it.
“Muuuuuuum, Nanette stole my idea for a rule!”
“You shoulda made your rule “no stealing rules” then, ‘vera!”
Time was a ceaseless thing, spinning ever golden in memory and passage - centuries faded in blinks, and nearly fourteen years had passed since that ball. Frost had returned to his birth home - the summer court, as its prince of the sun - and his young wards were no longer so young. With the throne empty, it was decided it ought be shared: thus, for the first time, Winter answered to two archfey.
A gentle Prince of Flurries with a playful grin, a loyal servant turned consort at his side.
And his rambunctious sister, a Princess of Snow with a curious mind and an open hearth for anyone who had none to claim, a knight with violet curls turned consort to the princess, glasses catching the gentle light of her daughters’ room as the ten and nine year old squabbled over an old tradition. Just behind them lay a juvenile snow lion, grumbling and tucking his nose under his paws lest his mistress disturb his nap further.
His mistress - the white-haired nine year old - was currently looking rather smug from her spot on the rug. “Mama, stealing rules is fair play, right?”
“I wouldn’t say so,” laughed the “Mama” in question - an archfey now settled beside her summer bride, watching their elder child toss her pink curls in frustration. “C’mon, now, you’re upsetting Chacha.”
The lion (aforementioned Chacha) grumbled again and was rewarded with a pet from Nessa as she knelt down. “It’s more fun if you play nicely, girls. I promise. Have you asked Albedo what his rule will be?” “Mm-hm,” Primavera said after a moment’s pause, looking over an old game book for research. “He said his rule will be “you have to hide a flower on your outfit somewhere”. He thinks it’ll make everyone’s outfits more fun.” “Weeeeelll, if he’s doing that, maybe you could go along with that! Maybe you could ask Spark for ideas?” Nessa teased, the name of Primavera’s own pet (a Sunsnacker she claimed “followed her home” after a visit with Grandmother Summer, which Gloxinia joked was a better option than a baby Jabberwock) causing the bird-bear to poke its sunset head up from the basket of blankets it picked to nest in by the fireplace.
“Hm, I suppose… perhaps I shall make everyone dance with Spark! What say you, boy?” Primavera grinned, adjusting her pince-nez glasses as Spark chirruped and ran out to try and preen her. The fullbody tackle that followed set off a chain reaction of giggles and tumbling as Chacha (now sensing he was missing out on fun) decided his own mistress’ grooming left something to be desired and she too was pawed down.
Nessa felt herself smiling as she watched her daughters, Olwen delicately coming to her shoulder to share a look. “Just like you, friend,” she chirped, giving her now-archfey mistress a friendly head nudge.
“Almost,” Nessa agreed.
“Olwen might be right, my lady,” Gloxinia said with a teasing lilt, giving her a little smile. “Primavera does seem awfully willing to engage anyone and everyone… and any pet. Much like a young lady I knew who made a habit of greeting strange young ladies with hi, pretty fae!”
“Oh really now,” Nessa grinned back. “Well, I wasn’t lying. Really I was just practicing for being archfey if you think about it.”
…it all felt so distant now, Nessa thought. That awful ballroom. Those long tables. Those people who would twirl her sister and the warmth she was never allowed to touch. All of it was far, replaced with icy floors and “rules” that were just games in disguise, a family that wanted her and her brother, a family she made.
If she’d asked that little girl in the pink gown back then if she thought such things were possible, she’d have hung her head and quietly promised she knew it wouldn’t be so. That even if she was very very good, the badness inside her would make them hate her. She understood. It was clear.
Now, that little girl that lived inside her now was looking at the children her older self had made, wide-eyed, full of astonishment. The badness perhaps left her, or maybe it was never there, maybe it was the Burroughs who were full of badness for treating her and her brother like that.
And best of all, right at her side, blade safely in sheath and smiling soft as down was the pretty fae she’d called a greeting too nearly the same day she had pacted, the same fae with the soft curls and the red eyes that were prettier than Lissa’s ever were.
Nessa couldn’t help but marvel at it all, even grown. She thought maybe eventually one day that old clock tower bell would strike - 12th hour, Cinderella, the spell has ended - and she would wake up in her massive bed with her brother curled up next to her and no future hope to hold on to but a wish.
Yet here she was. All of it was here. She was here. Gloxinia was here, too. And she had children who loved her, a bride who loved her— what more could she ask for? How much more happiness could she have?
She didn’t know, but she did believe she could take another forever of it. If the fates would allow.
(Eight years from now, Primavera’s sense of justice will lead her back to the kingdom Nessa had to entrust to its queen.)
(Nine years from now, her sister Nanette will join her to search for the kingdom’s prince and fight back the tyrant king who took so much from so many.)
(Five minutes from now, her daughters will tackle both of their mothers and ask for the reason why they get to make rules, and Nessa will have the privilege and pride of saying that would be your grandfather’s idea - he always wanted us to know we were family, you see.)