Work Text:
The night's air was pleasant, if a little too overly-fragrant for Andrealphus' taste. April's evening breeze was much gentler here, in the southern parts of Pride Ring, than the never-ceasing frost winds back at his palace. It also carried the rich scent of the thousands of flowers in full bloom festering around the garden. It made the peacock almost nauseous. He’d never understood people’s fascination with plants – they were frivolous, an eye-sore, overwhelming in their aromas, required constant care and, frankly, they were just a bother, overall. Growing up in a region where the ruthless weather eradicated any form of life too weak to survive its harshness, Andrealphus had never had a reason to overcome his disdain for them.
But, as much as he disliked this décor, so different from the one back at his estate, the peacock needed some air. He was fairly sure that he was already developing a migraine and the muffled chatter from inside the ballroom, drowned by the clinking of champagne glasses and the lifeless melody played by the ensemble, were doing nothing to soothe it. It had been a tiresome week, with meetings one right after another, stacks of important papers in need of reviewing and rephrasing and duties upon duties that required his immediate attention. Being a member of the Small Council – a position that not even his father had had the privilege of obtaining – had been one of Andrealphus’ greatest ambitions ever since his adolescence. The young Marquis took great pride in being the youngest one appointed and welcomed each challenge as an opportunity to prove himself to all those old, arrogant pricks, mostly Kings and Princes who thought of themselves so much better than the rest of their brethren. He had expected the enormous workload. The other members, however, pulling his leg, as though keen on making his existence as miserable as possible – that had been an unforeseen turn.
Each week was slowly becoming more and more exhausting than the previous one. Andrealphus knew that, should a word of complaint even escape his beak around his father, it would’ve earned him the greatest rebuke in history. Marquis Andras was of the opinion that his son, a well-trained and well-learned Goetia, should have no problem in carrying out his duties for an entire week, then immediately go play chaperone at his sister's engagement party. It was a nightmare – especially when Stella, as always, refused to behave.
Andrealphus sighed, leaning forward onto the patio’s marble railing. Glancing down, he met the wine’s dark crimson stare from the bottom of his half-finished glass, tempting him almost to take another gulp until he was just numb enough to go through with the celebration. He would’ve gladly taken the offer if not for his father’s glare already gaining shape before his mind’s eyes and the grave reproach echoing in his ears. Andrealphus had already been mercilessly scolded once this evening. He didn’t need to make matters worse by getting unreasonably drunk as well.
Andrealphus closed his eyes. His chest heaved, something savage and barely-contained clawing inside. It was so damn unfair. Why should he always answer for his little sister’s misbehavior? Throughout his childhood, the peacock had grown accustomed to being held accountable for things of which he was innocent, yet it had never gotten any less frustrating. And as though it wasn’t enough, Stella had further complicated both of their situations by lashing out in the middle of the ballroom and making a spectacle at her own engagement party.
He couldn’t understand his sister in the slightest. Her betrothed might not have been the manliest nor the most respected royal, but he was, nonetheless, a Prince. In less than a year, she would be marrying a Goetic Prince and be his bride, in the most exquisite and superb wedding gown Andrealphus had ever laid eyes on, adorned with diamonds their family could have only dreamed of prior to the arrangement. And yet, she still rejected the idea with the same recoil of a spoiled child being presented with a doll they did not like. Did her simple, moronic brain not comprehend the luck? Not everyone got this chance. There were people who would’ve given everything to share a handsome, young Prince’s glamorous palace, bed and heir, be seen attending parties at his side, feel the sense of pride over being his, wake up to his gentle touch and sweet whispering voice –
Footsteps approached from behind.
Quickly, Andrealphus brought a hand up to his cheek and rubbed insistently underneath the eyes, which had inexplicably begun to sting. The peacock straightened up and turned around sharply.
"Who is – ?! Oh... it's you."
Vassago stuttered slightly in his tracks. The Prince breathed out a soft laugh of surprise and Andrealphus felt a light flutter inside his ribcage. Vassago then smiled broadly and the flutter threatened to climb upwards, with a shiver. He pushed it back down, where it belonged.
“Did I startle you, Andrealphus? Lo siento.”
Vassago reached the peacock’s side and mirrored his stance. As he also leaned on the marble railing, their elbows gingerly brushed against one another. Andrealphus, to his chagrin, had to suppress a shy tremble of his train-feathers. The macaw, however, paid no mind to the subtle touch and continued to gaze ahead.
“I see why you wanted to excuse yourself from the party. It’s quite beautiful out here, no?”
Andrealphus twirled the glass in his hand, watching the liquid inside slowly stir. He felt warm so all of a sudden, through his entire body, starting where their arms met in polite caress and spreading to the tips of his talons and the azure feathers of his crest. The peacock swallowed thickly, before giving an absent-minded hum.
“Hm. If you’re referring to these horrid vines, crowding every inch of space in this dreadful garden, then hardly.”
Vassago laughed out loud, unbidden. No matter how many years had passed since he’d first heard it, Andrealphus still couldn’t comprehend that such a sound could come out of a Goetia. Something so free and unrestrained, yet somehow simple and mundane. Princes should’ve been trained from a young age to command respect and fear just by presence alone and abstain from such open displays of emotion. His own father, just a mere Marquis, had always gravely reprimanded him for it as a little boy. And yet, there was Vassago – a Goetic Prince, with twenty-six demon legions under his command, letting his giggles fill the quiet, empty night.
“Ay, Andy, eres imposible! Don’t tell me you don’t like the way it looks! Springtime can’t leave even an ice demon like yourself this cold.”
“And what exactly is there to like about them?” Andrealphus asked with a huff. “They are impractical and useless. They do nothing but occupy space and fill it with their stench. Personally, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with them back at my own estate.”
The Prince turned away from the view and fixed Andrealphus with his bright, scarlet eyes. Under the ballroom’s warm glow and the Pentagram’s blood-red sheen, they shined like rubies. No eyes in history, Andrealphus thought, could have ever shined like that, even if they’d tried. Vassago’s were just so striking that the Marquis knew it had to come from somewhere within. Where exactly, he did not know. The parrot’s soul was an endless enigma, filled with shooting rays of light and strumming chords of guitar. But each day spent in his company made Andrealphus want to decipher it more and more.
“Don’t let Stolas hear you talking like that, pajarito,” the macaw said jokingly, “or you’ll gain an enemy instead of a future brother. Have you heard how tenderly and happily he talks of his plants? It’s as though they are his real friends, not people...”
The calm warmth dissipated like morning haze. Images from earlier that afternoon, just a few hours prior to the party, arose to the forefront of Andrealphus’ mind: Stolas and Vassago, strolling happily through the gardens, laughing oh, so joyfully at Lucifer knew what; Vassago, initiating all sorts of touching and Stolas quietly leaning in; Vassago, showing up unannounced at Stolas’ palace a few too many times a month to “check in on his magic lessons” and always staying over for tea. All of them made Andrealphus’ skin crawl with recoil and his insides burn with wild hellfire, stronger than any either his father or sister could ever ignite in him.
“Ah, yes… Stolas. I forgot how close you two are.”
He felt the venom drip from his heartbeat, heard the way it soaked each syllable. Vassago, however, seemed idiotically unaware of the strain in his voice.
“Oh, I don’t know if we’re that close. Stolas es tan timido, as I think you already know. But I always see him so lonely wherever he goes and I’ve heard others say things así horribles about him… No sé, pero I think he might use a friend.”
The fire inside Andrealphus intensified, ferociously raking its teeth across his flesh. He felt the flames climb from the pit of his stomach, up his esophagus and into his mouth, bringing with it the bitter taste of bile.
“But of course he does,” the Marquis drawled out through the clench of his beak. “Poor Stolas, all alone in his huge palace along with his huge wealth, just the plants and stars to keep him company because he somehow isn’t sufficiently apt to befriend his fellow Goetia in real life. The absolute tragedy of it all.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vassago’s brows furrow. But the words had already started pouring out. He couldn’t stop.
“Andrealphus, why are you saying these things?”
“Oh, but Vassago, did I insult your dearest friend? My apologies, it wasn’t my intention at all. Do tell me, what riveting conversation did you have today, hm? I saw you walking together in the garden. Perhaps he talked your ear off about plants again? Or maybe it was the stars, I know you two have those in common! Please, I am dying to hear all of it!”
“I don’t understand why you are acting like this,” the Prince raised his voice, irritation finally seeping through. “Stolas is your future brother-in-law, you can’t speak like this of him!”
“Is he? Hm. I seem to have forgotten, considering he can’t even look at his bride-to-be properly and embarrasses her at every – ”
“He didn’t ask for any of this, pendejo! He needs support right now, not mockery, you insensitive prick – ”
“Well then if he needs you so much, stop wasting your time here and fuck off back INSIDE!”
With a screech, his glass smashed against the railing, spitting wine and broken shards all over the polished stone. The parrot’s stare latched onto Andrealphus like a vice and the peacock’s heart lurched in his throat. Vassago’s expression was no longer one of anger, but rather a confused helplessness of sorts – perhaps even slight hurt. Face burning, he turned away. The earlier sting in his eyes had returned. He tried chasing it with a sharp dig of his talons into his forearm, pulling at the carefully preened feathers. In vain. All in vain.
Why did everything feel so in vain when it was Vassago?
“Andrealphus – ”
“Forget it.”
“Pero quiero – ”
“I said forget it!”
He started walking back towards the ballroom. His father must’ve been expecting him by now. Yes, and his sister, as well, no doubt. How careless of him to leave in the midst of such an important and crucial celebration for their family. Such disappointing impropriety.
Andrealphus felt something grab onto his elbow, abruptly halting his footsteps. In a blink of an eye, he was spun on his heels, a pair of hands latching onto his waist and pulling him in. The physical weight of another body pressed against the Marquis’ own, radiating heat, smelling strongly of pineapple and sweat and wine and another scent, stronger, muskier, more natural – like the earth. Pulse hammering in his throat, he hastily tried to push away.
“Let me go of me this instant, you, stupid parrot!”
“Andy…”
Vassago’s tone contradicted the look of unrelenting firmness in his eyes – the whisper was a little more than a quiet breath and the nickname, so rarely used, felt like honey in Andrealphus’ bones. Sweet and simple and warm.
Vassago sighed. “Look, I know this period must be muy dificil for you, too. Always watching over both your sister and Stolas, all the shit with the Small Council… it’s a lot, isn’t it, pajarito?”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Andrealphus instinctively said. “I’ve been through much more – ”
“That’s not the point Andrealphus! Tu papa, he’s always so hard on you! Not just tonight, but in general. I…” he pursed the edges of his beak together. “I worry for you, Andy…”
Andrealphus averted his gaze to the side, feeling a knot tighten in his throat. This was pathetic. He was supposed to prove himself as a capable and reliable new member of Goetian society. How was he supposed to do so if he could barely handle a little heat at the beginning of his career? And now, Vassago had to make it all worse by making it sound so grave and serious and acting all concerned, when, in actuality, his outburst had been all his fault for bringing stupid Stolas into their discussion –
“Let’s get out of here.”
Andrealphus’ eyes snapped back, absolutely certain he must’ve misheard. He searched the parrot’s face for a trace of mischief that would prove his words had been just another one of his annoying and incredibly unfunny jokes.
“You’re insane.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?!” Andrealphus nearly shouted. “We’re at my sister’s fucking engagement party! A sister that I have been assigned to chaperone, mind you! If she slips up again, it’s my head my father will have, not yours!”
“Andrealphus,” the tips of Vassago’s talons came up to gingerly rest against his beak, silencing him. “Cállate and listen to me. There’s exactly one hour left before the cake. One hour. Only then will Andras know you’re missing. Until then, he’ll be too busy sucking up to Paimon to even think of you. If we leave now and return then, no one will suspect a thing.”
Andrealphus heard the words. He knew they made sense, logically. That didn’t make them sound any less crazy, nor did it stop the embarrassing tremble of his knees.
“I – I can’t – ”
A warm glow vibrated underneath them. Andrealphus barely had time to register it, before Vassago was suddenly no longer holding him, but hovering above on his star. The shine in his eyes was back, amplified by the golden emanating from all around him.
“No one will even notice we’re gone. I promise. And there’s so much that I want to show you.” A gloved hand gracefully extended forward, talons tenderly unfolding in invitation. “Trust me this once?”
Andrealphus didn’t remember their palms touching, nor being pulled onto the star, yet he suddenly found himself sitting behind Vassago. The surface was glassy, yet surprisingly warm, like a soothing bath enveloping him in its heat. He could feel the velvety texture of the parrot’s jacket beneath his fingers and the scent of pineapple, once more, in his nares. The damned star thing vibrated beneath them again and he tightened his grip on the Prince’s shoulders with a gasp.
“Bien, pajarito, all set! Get ready for the best date and adventure of your life!”
“Hold on a moment, I never said it was a daa – AATE!” A sudden burst of wind hit Andrealphus in the face and, with a frightened keen, he instinctively wrapped his arms around the macaw’s front like a vice.
The star moved at lightning speed. It glided through the air like a falling meteor, sharply leaning sideways at unexpected times. All the peacock could do was bury his face in Vassago’s rippling feathers and hope he wouldn’t fall Lucifer knew how many hundred feet down into darkness. There was a sudden upturn and Andrealphus was certain he had almost slid off the blasted thing. He felt something rest over the back of his palm, softly caressing his knuckles.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Vassago shouted over the violent winds blowing past them. “The turbulence is normal! But that’s only until we exit Hell! After that, they’ll be all done!”
“Until we WHAT?”
“Exit Hell!”
“I heard you the first time, you imbecile! Why the FUCK are we getting out of Hell?!”
“How else do you think we’re going to get to the human realm?”
“THE HUMAN REALM?! Are you completely out of your fucking mind?!”
“No more than usual! Hold tight, Andy!”
The Prince squeezed his hand lightly. Biting the inside of his cheek, Andrealphus carefully opened his eyes. The imposing sky of Pride Ring came into view, closing in from above, as though preparing to crush them underneath its arch. For a terrifying moment, Andrealphus though it would. A sudden blinding ray of light cut through the night’s dark crimson and the peacock felt his insides fold as a force of pure energy surged past them and propelled them on the other side.
As promised, the turbulence stopped at once. The star trembled uncertainly for a second or two before finding its balance and gently floating down a few feet. Beneath them, an endless valley, sculpted in layers in between mountains, stretched seemingly for forever. Pine forests cloaked bits of grassland, standing out in patches of dark green. A river snaked through the vale, carrying the moonlight on its back. Even in the dead of night, the Marquis could see white smudging the stony peaks.
“Andrealphus,” Vassago’s voice reached his ears, distant and slightly choked up. “We’re safe now. Let go a bit.”
A light tap on his arm and Andrealphus suddenly became hyper-aware of the immense tension in his limbs, still tightly wrapped around the macaw’s neck. Hastily, he let go, repositioning them over his torso.
“Where have you brought me?” he asked hurriedly.
“To the Alps,” Vassago answered with a lively chirp. “They are así lindo todo el año. Even in April, there’s still snow crowning their peaks and… well, I just thought you’d – ”
“And when are we going to get off this fucking thing?” Andrealphus’ eyes frantically scorched the ground below, still so very far from where they were.
“Ok, first of all, this ‘fucking thing’ has a name and it’s Isabella. Be respectful, por favor. And secondly, pavo real, te lo ruego, for once in your lifetime, chill out? Eh?”
Andrelphus glared at the parrot, whose shit-eating grin threatened to split his face. “You humor remains, as always, thoroughly unamusing.”
“I’m just trying to lighten the mood, ok? You seem so tense.”
Andrealphus puffed in annoyance. “Yes, well, forgive me for being the only one here mature and intelligent enough to foresee the imminent consequences of our reckless action – ”
The star abruptly dropped.
Andrealphus yelled and dug his talons into Vassago’s vest. The entire world spun as they headed downward, towards the river, mind-numbingly fast, at an almost perfect ninety-degree angle. Just as they were about to hit the water, the star straightened horizontally, stabbing the stream with its edges and sending foam flying in the air. It glided with the current, hovering just above the surface and jumping with each sudden wave.
Andrealphus panted, chest heaving with coughs as he fought to catch his breath. Meanwhile, Vassago shouted with glee, as though he was an immature child, riding one of those dreadful rollercoasters down in Lulu World.
“What… in the motherfuck… was that, Vassago?!”
The Prince laughed out loud, chest vibrating lively in the peacock’s hold. How, in the ever-living Hell, could Vassago sound like a ripple of pure joy, palpable and contagious, while also being the most infuriating creature to ever grace the world?
“Te lo dije que esto era una aventura! It’s meant to be fun, not stressful!”
“Oh, yes, I am dying of fun, right now.”
“That’s because you’re thinking too much, Andy,” he said, slowly prying Andrealphus’ hands away from his body. He tried to protest, to cling to the safety of Vassago’s unwavering posture, but the parrot gripped his wrists tightly. “Relax. You’re safe with me.”
The Prince leaned over the star’s edge, bringing Andrealphus’ hand with him. The Marquis gasped. Refreshing cold brushed against his talons, liquid ice overflowing his veins. He gazed down at the shining surface, watching his talons rake through, and, with a deep sigh, let his body slump across the star. His eye-lids fluttered shut as droplets of water landed swiftly on his face, soaked his sleeve, soothed the trembling of his tail. Melodious whistling filled the quiet valley as Vassago’s touch came to rest down on his lower back.
“Come here,” the parrot whispered softly. “Feel this.”
Andrealphs lifted his head, almost sleepily, a foreign haze veiling over his thoughts. He was being pulled, gently urged to sit upright and suddenly, he found himself sitting in front of Vassago, almost pushed from behind into the open air. His eyes immediately welled up.
“Wait – I don’t know how – ”
“Shhh…” Vassago whispered against the back of his crest. His hands shifted from his waist to his underarms, hooking his talons underneath and extending them towards his sides. “Close your eyes, amor. Don’t think. Just fly.”
Breathing in, Andrealphus obeyed.
The wind continued to whirl past his face, whipping against his wet feathers in pleasant lashes. For a dizzying moment, his head spun. The hands on his arms briefly tightened in quiet reassurance; then, they gingerly brushed from the sharp blades of his shoulders to the tips of his blue talons. Something soared deeply inside Andrealphus’ chest – an overwhelming flutter of a thousand butterfly wings, growing right over his beating heart – and, suddenly, he was no longer a Marquis of Hell, a Goetia, a demon, anything that could incorporate a physical form. He was only a shy quiver of the mountain’s breeze, a lost ray of moonlight led by the galloping current, a dream split away from its dreamer, now wandering in an endless void of nothing.
He was free.
The ghost of a kiss chastely placed on his temple startled him awake. Glancing at his side, Andrealphus met the scorching pair of rubies, filled to the brim with that enigmatic beauty he had come to think of every waking moment of the day. This time, it seemed to be aimed at him. Or for him. Skin burning with something he did not have a name for (or dared not name), Andrealphus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“W-Why did you do that?”
“You looked so peaceful, baby,” Vassago whispered. He brushed a loose strand of azure feathers from Andrealphus’ face. “I couldn’t help myself.”
Closer
There wasn’t even an inch left between their faces. Vassago’s breath was tickling the tip of his beak.
I need closer
Andrealphus’ spine was made of butter. His heart was going to burst right through his ribs. He leaned in.
Please
With a sudden jolt, the pine trees tilted sideways and the stars above them shook in dizzying circles. Andrealphus yelped as his body slipped and slid off the glassy surface, almost toppling right off the edge. At least he would’ve had, had it not been for the pair of arms tightly wrapping around him and pulling him back onto the star. Chest heaving in shock, Andrealphus leaned backwards, instinct screaming to nestle against Vassago’s comforting warmth once more.
“Whoa, Andy, are you ok?! Carajo, I’m so sorry! I don’t know why the fuck she does this sometimes. I swear, it’s like Isabella is trying to kill me these days. She can be una chica muy ardiente when she wants to. She’s a bit like your sister if I you think about it, ha-ha! Ha… hmm…” Vassago’s nervous chuckling died in the night’s air. Involuntarily, Andrealphus’ own hands came up to grip the parrot’s wrist, still sealed over his stomach.
“Please, bebé, answer me. Are you alright?”
“Wh – oh, yes! Ahem, yes, I am quite fine,” the peacock lied. “I assure you, there’s no need to worry yourself, Vassago. It – she just took me by surprise.”
The Prince breathed lightly against his nape, the faint ghost of his colorful laugh. Andrealphus’ brows creased. Soft laughs that melted into heavy silence afterwards had never been Vassago’s brand. The parrot had always been such an ungraceful, over-the-top bouquet of feelings. He was nothing if not a messy painting of unaesthetic laugh lines and flaming ruffled feathers and songs hummed loudly and unashamedly in the middle of the corridors. Dismay, discontent, stillness… those had never fit into the tableau. What reason would they have to now? Something Andrealphus had done? A pang of nausea echoed deep in his gut. He suddenly wished for the starry sky to swallow him completely whole.
The star ascended, flying away from the river and over the pine forests. The air grew cold and thin as the valley below them changed into grassless paths of mountain stone. The steep walls framing their trail glided down into sculpted narrow vales of grey and white, seizing the winds in their creases. Remains of snow spilled across them, like the leftover contents on the inside of a jar, and caught the moon’s gleam onto their icy surfaces. Andrealphus inhaled the sharp breeze and felt it sting deliciously in his lungs. He hadn’t considered in his whole lifetime that a place on Earth could remind him so much of his own home.
Home.
The word awoke something in the depths of his chest – something that begged to climb out from wherever it had been hidden, spill into his tears, sew into his words and finally be set free.
Home
It was inexplicable, yet somehow, not? It had always been there, Andrealphus knew it. Why would it otherwise be so insistent all of a sudden in trying to get out?
If there comes a day when I cannot take it anymore, this will be my home. With Vassago. The unspoken words finally quelled down the feeling, just enough to keep it from bursting; at least, for now.
“Did you know flowers grow up here?” Vassago’s voice broke the quiet.
“No,” Andrealphus admitted. “Why is that of any relevance?”
“Nothing. It’s just…” there was hesitation in the parrot’s voice. Curiously atypical. “It made me think of you.”
Andrealphus puffed into laughter, surprising even himself. “Of me? Dear Vassago, why? You know very well I cannot stand them.”
“But this flower is different!” The Prince insisted. “It grows in steep places, like this one, and can survive the cold. I… I mean, claro, it is fine if you don’t want it, but… I picked one for you, you know…”
Andrealphus slowly turned his head around. There was a foreign red tinting Vassago’s cheeks. “When did you even have the time? We barely got here.”
“Ay, no! Not right now. I came here plenty of times before. These mountains, you see… they remind me of you, mi queridisimo amigo. I got one on my last visit and I was planning to give it to you, but, that is… do you want it?”
Static roared in Andrealphus’ mind. The words flew past his ears, stolen by the wind, their meaning lost in the darkened horizon. He blinked rapidly, chasing away the white noise clouding his every coherent thought.
“I… I – yes. Show me.”
Vassago removed his hands from his waist, where they had been comfortably laying for the past few minutes, and lifted them in the air. Thin strings of gold poured out of his fingers, his beautiful magic coming to life with a few careful flicks of wrist. It twirled and danced for a few breathtaking moments, gaining the shape, until it finally burst into a tiny explosion of light, leaving in its place a flower Andrealphus had never seen before.
It was shaped like a star, with thick petals of woolly white. The stem was a pale green, covered in some sort of protective fluff and, from the middle, around six small florets peeked up at him, trembling helplessly in the night’s air.
“It’s called an edelweiss,” Vassago continued. “It grows only here, in this part of the world. I thought you would like it, even though you always say you hate plants. Since – well, since this one is not really like the others, I – ”
“Vassago.”
“Si?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Really?”
“Have I ever complimented something if it’s not to my liking?”
“So, you do not think it’s weird?”
“It’s the weirdest fucking flower I have ever seen.”
A laugh shuddered out of Vassago and Andrealphus mimicked it. It was, indeed, the strangest plant he had ever laid eyes on. It was also a gift from Vassago. And that somehow made it more beautiful than all the other extremely expensive and ordinarily boring gifts he had received across the span of his entire life.
“I also wrote a poem.,” Vassago’s eyes glided to the side. His talons raked through his crest, musing the feathers. “I tied it on the stem.”
Someone must’ve slipped something into his drink that night. There was, otherwise, no possible explanation as to why Vassago seemed so much more…foolish and nonsensical and fucking adorable than usual.
“I …will read it upon my return from the party. But thank you, Vassago.”
“Ay, the celebration!” Vassago exclaimed. “Good thing for reminding me, pajarito, I almost forgot. We should head back now... shouldn’t we?”
Andrealphus’ mind screamed with his true answer, the only right one after everything that had transpired that night. Talons tightening around the flower, he clenched his beak and forced the lie out.
“Indeed we should.”
The ride back was almost peaceful. Andrealphus remained seated at the front, as Vassago carefully guided their flight from the back. His unwavering hands never wandered away from the peacock’s sides. When the blinding ray of light cleaved through the sky once more, Andrealphus closed his eyes and tightly clutched the flower over his beating heart.
***
Morning was never bright on the outskirts of Pride Ring. Any ray of light brave enough to try and cross the sharp glacier peaks, drowned in the capricious blizzards plaguing the land at every hour of the day. For that reason, waking up at sunrise, or at least at a decent enough hour, was almost always impossible without outside help.
Still, that morning, Andrealphus awoke with the dawn.
Silencing all his alarms, he threw his robe on and hurried to open the doors of his balcony. Outside, just where he'd left it the previous night upon his return, the edelweiss blinked up at him. Its petals had not withered and its stem had not frozen off. It was the same blossom of snow, just as clean and white as when Vassago had gifted it to him.
Kneeling in front of it, the peacock lightly caressed one of the petals, softly running his talons across the woolly textures. He then reached underneath and took in between his index and middle finger the small parchment tied onto the stem. His eyes roamed cross the paper, sipping every inky word carefully written on it:
“Sweet blossom of snow
'Tis your scent only that I ever wish to know.
Other flowers into drowning color rainbows bloom
But only you carry the slaking silver of the lonely moon
Oh, edelweiss
For forever I've searched for you high and low
Uncertain and shy, in the mountain’s cold you lie,
But in the end I’ve found you and now, I'll never let you go”
Andrealphus' heart skipped a beat. The morning suddenly seemed brighter. Kinder. The wind's bite had softened against his cheek, muffled by the strange giggle bubbling excitedly in his chest.
Twirling on his tip toes, Andrealphus went back inside and shut the doors behind him. He danced towards his armoire, eyes closed, as a sweet melody he’d heard from Vassago a thousand times before softly spilled from his beak.