Archive of Our Own

Will tightens his grip on the scroll clutched to his chest, pacing down the marble corridor. 

Laughter catches his attention and he turns towards the big glass windows on his left opening the castle up to the gardens, people twirling around with ribbons and garlands, stringing them up over hedges and carefully hanging them by the long branches of the wisteria tree raining a perpetual, perfectly still shower of purple flowers in the center of the green court. Preparations for the festival were in full swing. 

Will’s face blooms with a smile, excitement making him pick up his pace towards the throne room; the few guards patrolling the corridor greet him with fond amusement and he waves back at them with the rolled-up painting in his hands. He couldn’t wait to show his parents the finished piece he would be showcasing this year. 

He waves in greeting again when the sentries on either side of the entrance to the throne room incline their heads at him, already flunging the doors open to let him through without making him slow down. “Thank you!” he calls back at them, halting once he steps over the threshold. 

The room is empty, dust dancing around the golden light streaming from the decorated stained glass overlooking the ceiling, a half-moon shadow reflected from it on the floor just in front of the throne. Will glances around, distant voices coming from the pillars behind the throne catching his attention. 

“-It’s time, Joyce.” 

“Jim-” 

Will perks up at the hushed conversation, peeking around the pillar. His mother and father are walking back and forth from a board pinned to the wall to the long wooden table usually used to hold council meetings, choosing names for the artists, musicians and poets that will be officially invited to the Arts Festival in honor of the last lunar eclipse of the year. Everyone is more than welcome to partecipate, but as the official host for the celebrations, the Crown usually selects a few specific names to send invites to for the closing ball held at the castle the night of the eclipse. His mother unpins a scrap of paper from the board and arranges it on the table, throwing a look at his father.

“He’s of age, it’s time to consider some suitors-” What. 

Will tucks himself further behind the pillar, straining to hear as clearly as he can with the way their low voices echo off the walls; his mother clicks her tongue, disapproving. 

“It could be- political connection, marriage is- good for that.” The sentence is broken by a commotion coming closer and closer, happy voices bumping against the sudden dread rising in Will’s head. 

“Jane and Jonathan already- but Will-” He swallows hard, crumpling the painting in his hands. This can’t be. 

“At the ball- introduce him to-” Will swallows the lump in his throat, clapping a hand on his mouth to keep a wounded noise from escaping him. He feels his chest constrict, tunic suddenly feeling too tight to breathe properly, and he starts slowly backing away.

“My King!” Will jumps at the booming voice rising above the cloud of noise behind him, prompting him to turn around to see several members of the castle’s staff holding different banners up. “We bring news from the tailors, the banners are complete.” 

His father’s heavy footsteps seem to ring louder than the rush of blood in his ears and it’s abruptly imperative he doesn’t get spotted by his parents. He stumbles among several calls of his title, forcing a smile on his face and willing with all his might the light doesn’t catch his eyes to heighten the tears steadily pooling in them. 

“That’s great-” This time his father’s voice rings loud and clear; Will looks at the ground, crushes the painting in his trembling grip, and runs. 

*

Mike bends down to fasten the loosened straps of his boots with one hand, keeping his sword and shield out of the way with the other; it had been a long morning of helping set up kiosks and stands down at the town square, the frenzy of getting everything done when just two days were left for the festival to start making the more pair of hands helping, the better. 

He had finished reporting to the knights’ keep at the edge of the castle grounds, making his way up towards the palace for his afternoon patrolling shift. A gust of wind blows a few flower petals towards him, a floating pretty yellow cloud coming from the fields surrounding the path to the main entrance of the fortress. He takes the wind as a suggestion to pick some flowers for Will, smiling at the thought of giving him some of the same ones he had used to mark Will’s stand at the square. 

He couldn’t wait to see Will’s main work this year; his best friend had taken part in the Arts festival as soon as he started drawing, earning first the charmed affection of his people and then their stunned awe at his steadily increasing talent as he grew up. It never fails to make Mike proud, and as his first year in the Order of Chivalry he was glad he could help set up the best spot for Will, setting it apart with some daisies tied to the wooden poles holding the stand up.  

He lets his hand trail through those same daisies, plucking a few up. Maybe he can stop by Will’s rooms first to tell him, even if he has to patrol the second floor today- 

His head turns abruptly on instinct at a sound coming from his left towards a small clearing with a few stone benches, hand flying to the sword strapped to his side automatically. He lets go once his ears tune in better and register it as soft sobs coming from a figure hunched on one of the benches, face hidden by their hands. Mike approaches carefully, confusion knitting his eyebrows together. His face slacks in surprise when he spies half-moon metal clips on the figure’s tunic. “Will?” 

Will lifts his face from his hands just as Mike arrives in front of him, cheeks blotchy from crying, nose red from the effort of his sobs. Mike panics at the sight, moving to kneel down in front of Will. “What happened? Are you- what’s wrong?”

“Mike?” Will’s face crumples again, eyes closing against a fresh wave of tears. 

“Hey, hey,” Mike shifts on his knees, voice soft as to not overwhelm Will more. His shield keeps digging into his side from its perch on its arm and the pointed cover of his scabbard bumping on the grass makes it hard to balance; he shakes out the arm with the shield, trying to make the grip come undone while his free hand moves to grab one of Will’s. 

“Are you hurt?” Will shakes his head no, shoulders shaking. 

“My-” he hiccups, pushing the scroll beside him a little further away from him. “It’s my parents, I heard them s-say something.” Will grips his hand tighter at Mike inclining his head, a silent invitation for him to go on. He takes a breath and focuses on the daisies Mike is crushing with the hand trying to shake the shield free. 

“They want to arrange a marriage for me.” 

Mike’s arm shoots out right as the word marriage leaves Will’s mouth, the shield dropping straight down on his bent thigh. Mike curses, immediately trying to reel it in in front of Will, pushing his elbow against the sting of pain as the shield clangs with a dull thump from his thigh to the grass. 

“They want to what a what ?” He basically shrieks, the same panic that first clawed at him when he realized Will was crying sitting alone coming back with a vengeance, climbing fully up his throat. “That’s- they can’t! How could they even think of something like that?” 

“I think they w-want to introduce suitors to me at t-the ball.” 

The moon might as well have fallen directly on Mike with the way his insides are chipping away at the seams; this can’t be happening, it can’t be true. He can’t let this happen, not Will, not his best friend who deserves nothing short of the truest love a human heart can offer. 

He kneels properly, tilting his head up so he can look at the angry shine in Will’s eyes. 

“I just- I always thought I would be with-” he hesitates, and his hand goes slack in Mike’s grip. "S-someone I love.” 

“And you’ll get that, I swear.” Mike forces the panic down to fuel determination instead, long hair blowing around his face from a passing burst of wind. He lifts the hand still gripping the daisies to Will’s cheek, brushing the few tears still clinging to his lashes out of the corner of his eye. “I swear, we won’t let it happen. We won’t.”

*

“We won’t.” We. His heart skips a beat along with the gentle brush of the daisies’ petals along his cheek, Mike’s eyes betraying nothing but conviction in his words. Calloused fingers from sword training are cupping his cheek and all Will can think of is how unfair it is that he’s telling the boy he’s loved his whole life that he’ll never get to marry for that, for love. 

He wishes he could just go with Mike, dance with him, rest assured that his heart has been given to someone that has seen it in all its facets- they could go together and just be.

“Oh- together- you want to go together?” Will startles, coming back from his thoughts to focus on Mike’s surprised face. There’s a blush rising high on his cheeks and his armor creaks a little because of his sudden squirming. Will reels back, letting Mike’s hand fall from his face, realizing he spoke the last thought out loud; at least he hopes it was just the last part.

“I’m so sorry, I just meant-”

“No, no that’s- a good idea.” 

Will stares at him. “What?” 

Mike averts his gaze, taking his hand back and running it through his hair first and then down to fiddle with the chainmail on his thigh. “It’s a good idea- we could, we could pretend-” Will sucks in a breath feeling like he took in no air at all, “For the festival. It lasts two days after all, there’s the square celebration and then the ball and- if you’re spoken for, your parents can’t make you do anything, right?”

The moon might as well have fallen on Will with the way his heart is scrambling to put itself together. He should say no. Say no . Mike is offering him a way out and it would be unfair considering Will’s feelings and how could he even handle pretending to be in a relationship with Mike in front of everyone, say no.

“Right.” His mouth says instead, moving on its own accord. “You’d really- do that?”

Mike’s eyes seem to blink away his flustered haze, the certainty of a knight taking its place.

“I’d do anything for you.” 

*

Will can’t focus; he keeps his head down, eyes cast on his plate, feeling like the second he looks at either of his parents or his sister in the eyes they’ll just see a tiny minstrel on his shoulder sing about him deceiving them by pretending to be courting the love of his life who doesn’t know he’s actually in love with him and Skies above, what has he gotten himself into.

He groans outloud, freezing for a second when the muffled noises of conversation around him stop. 

Three pair of eyes stare back at him when he sheepishly lifts his gaze, offering them a nervous smile in hopes of dodging the inevitable- 

“Are you okay, honey?” And there it is. 

“Yes! Yes, mom, I’m fine. Just a little thirsty.” He rambles, moving to grab his cup of water to hide behind for a moment. He can see Jane narrow her eyes suspiciously when he puts it back down on the table. “Are you sure? You’re a little flushed.”

Will chokes on air, embarrassment making his face warmer instantly. He can’t stop thinking about the way Mike had walked him back all the way up to his chambers, the both of them looking anywhere but at each other as they stood face to face. Mike had grabbed the rolled-up painting to carry it for him on the way back, handing it back to him with a bunch of crushed daisies. 

Will had been endlessly charmed by his best friend, the mess of feelings in his stomach bringing forth guilt as he held the petals in his open palm.

“Let the fact that I didn’t pester you to see the painting in advance be proof of how seriously I’m taking this courtship.” Mike’s weak attempt at a laugh had trailed off awkwardly at Will’s widening eyes, still shiny from crying.

“Oh- oh, this is going to be a disaster, Mike- I’ve never been courted, I’m going to be so awkward, they’ll know immediately-” Will had let his head fall back against the doors to his room, Mike stepping around him without missing a beat to keep facing him.

“It won’t be, it’s us- alright, maybe it could be a little awkward in front of, well, the kingdom,” he amended as Will stared at him in disbelief. “But that’s just because we have to p-practice. Yeah, practice could help.” 

“Practice?” This emotional whiplash was messing with Will something fierce. He was pretty sure he had never blushed so hard so abruptly in his life. 

Mike was holding his shield up in front of him, strapped again on his arm, as if to defend himself from proposing the idea. “We can- hold hands, and- hug?”

“But we've always held hands and hugged, you were holding my hands twenty minutes ago.”

Will had moved a little to the right so as to not be bumped by the shield being swung around by an increasingly restless Mike. “Not as- intendeds! And what about ki- no but that surely would be too forward-”

“Mike!” Will had held a hand up, resisting the urge to bang the back of his head against the doors in an effort not to fill the rest of the ki word. 

“My prince? Is everything alright?”

They had both sprang up at the lone voice of a guard coming from the end of the corridor, Mike immediately standing straight at Will’s side, one hand behind his back.

“Perfect, thank you!” Will nodded at Mike, sweat building up at his temples like they had been caught already kis- no, not going there. 

"Knight Wheeler was just escorting me to my rooms."

"If His Royal Highness is sure," the guard had eyed Mike up and down, turning to Will again to give a short bow of his head. "Your patrolling shift is about to start, Wheeler. Second floor."

"Sir."

They let out a breath of relief at the same time when the guard turned the corner, startling when they caught each other try to sneak a sideways glance, embarrassed. 

To Will, letting go of that breath felt like letting go of the overwhelming weight on his shoulders, exhaustion suddenly taking its place. He pushed open the doors to his room, stepping half-way inside. “You’re right,” he sighed. “Practice could help.” 

Mike had nodded quickly, taking a step forward and then two back immediately after.

“I’m out of the castle grounds to help down at the square for the next two days, but-” Mike started, trying to lean casually against the wall beside the doors, not calculating the distance well and ending up banging his armored shoulder on solid stone. “Ouch- I could sneak in the night after tomorrow. Meet by the wisteria tree?” 

Will had been quick to agree, throwing himself on his bed the second the doors had fallen shut behind him. He had spent the afternoon going from different thought to different emotion, feeling dejected at how his parents could do this to him, then finding himself swinging his feet in the air thinking about meeting Mike by the wisteria tree, then sitting on the floor by his bed trying to hide from his own embarassment. 

“Kiddo? You still in there?” 

His head snaps up, gaze focusing around the table again to come back to the present. 

“Yeah, dad, sorry- just spaced out. I’m fine, I swear.” 

“Staff said they saw you in the throne room today when they brought the banners.” His mom makes a noise of agreement, pointing at him. “That’s right, why didn’t we see you?”

Will was pretty sure the castle’s staff members would be the ones actually able to uncover his and Mike’s foolish charade in the blink of an eye with the way they had always kept a protective eye over him and his siblings. 

“It was nothing, I wanted to show you guys the painting for the festival but I realized I wanted to make some small last minute changes.”

“But it’s already perfect!” his sister exclaims, her earlier suspicion lingering in her expression. It drags a genuine smile warm with affection out of him; his love for his siblings outshined everything else. Maybe he could accept his parents’ decision if it meant Jane could keep being happy with Max and Jonathan could keep finding solace against the heavy future duty of being king in knowing he’ll rule with Nancy at his side. He could- he could do it for them. 

But he also wanted the joy in Jane’s eyes while she and Max showed him the finished dresses he had sketched for them for the ball, the two of them twirling each other around; he wanted the steady presence of someone beloved at his side to face anything with, like Nancy and Jonathan had. 

He’d try but- if his parents were truly unmovable, preserving his siblings’ happiness came first. He would never risk them losing their loves and taking his place.

"Thank you," he says as softly as he can, willing himself to calm down. "It's just some color retouches, you'll see it at the festival. Jonathan will be there too, I want to show you when we're all together."

His mom chuckles at the mention of his brother. "He was not happy about having to stay another two days at the Crystal palace if his letter is anything to go by."

"Can't refuse an invitation from the neighboring King," his father says with a grimace. "It's good for keeping our political connection intact." Political connection. Will gulps, taking another quick sip of water. 

“Plus,” his father continues, tiny crumbs of bread getting stuck in his long mustache. “Jonathan mentioned the whole court is coming this year, it might be a good occasion for you two to meet new people, make some new friends to have fun at the ball with.”

Jane goes to open her mouth to respond but Will beats her to it, announcing loudly, “Actually-” 

He clears his throat and loses a bit of his panicked nerve, voice dropping. “I, uh. I’m going with someone at the ball this year.” 

There’s a beat of silence in which the whole dining room seems to freeze, spell broken by the chef slowly backing out of the room with the new tray he was about to bring in, door closing behind him. And then Jane scoots her chair closer to him and grabs him by his arm, his father chokes on his food and his mom clutches her chest. 

“Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Why are we hearing about this just now-”

“Who are you going with, honey?” If Will wasn’t so focused on not blowing his cover immediately he’d swear his mother’s eyes were sparkling, but instead he closes a fist on his thigh and looks at Jane first. 

“It happened, well, just today actually-” Keep it vague, don’t give too many details. 

“And it’s- Mike.”

“Mike? Michael Wheeler? Recently knighted in the Order of Chivalry Michael Wheeler?” his father keeps ranting as Jane launches herself at him, hugging him tightly. Will hugs her back, a wince on his face getting more and more pronounced as his father complains. 

“Oh come on, Jim-” his mother nudges him in the side, but he doesn’t budge.

“He’s been a pain in my side ever since they all were kids, Joyce, and now he courts my son without asking permission first?” 

“You’re exaggerating.” His mother waves him away, stretching her arm over to Will to ruffle his hair and cup his cheek, squeezing it gently and giving him a smile. Will refuses to tear up again. 

“Am I? Am I exaggerating, Joyce,” he exclaims, in fact exaggerating his tone of voice. He gives a dramatic bump of his fist on the table, his plate rattling a bit in front of him. Jane turns in Will’s arms, resting her cheek against his to watch their father break down.

“What’s one of the most known rhymes among kids,” he gestures around the room. “Pray tell.”

Will can feel Jane shake with laughter. “There’s ham in the King’s ‘stache.”

“That pest literally made up a rhyme and proceeded to popularize it to antagonize me for giving you play times that didn’t meet his demands.” His mother outright laughs at that, patting his arm in sympathy. 

“Years later he courts my son, my perfect, perfect son, without even asking-”

“I asked him first!” Will pulls back from Jane a little, wincing again. 

“You did? Yes!” She cheers. “Max owes me a gold coin.” 

Will blinks at his sister. “What?”

“We had a bet running. Took you two long enough!” She nuzzles his cheek before moving to sit straight down on her chair again, giving his arm one last squeeze. “I’m so happy for you!”

His father gives a long, demoralized sigh, apparently finding room in himself for a last boust of dramatics. “You’re happy?”

“Yeah,” Will breathes. If only it were real it would be the most heartfelt affirmation he’d ever uttered. “I really am.” 

They stare at each other until his mother hums. “There’s ham in the King’s ‘stache and there’s bread in his hand, if you get closer, he’ll eat your head in a flash!”

It startles an hysterical laugh out of Will, Jane giggling right with him.

“Really, Joyce? Really?”

She brushes the bread crumbs from his mustache, laughing as well. “To be fair there actually was food in your beard, Jim.”

*

Word has always traveled fast at the Flower castle, but, as Will shakes his head no for the third time in the span of an hour at the tailors asking him if he's really sure he doesn't want them to look over another outfit perhaps for someone else, he's pretty sure it's never traveled this fast. 

People keep erupting either in giggles or frantic excited whispers wherever he goes; the chef had given him extra berries with his breakfast that morning, he’d overheard the matrons of the household saying something about how actually no one deserved him but also discussing the possibilities of two weddings happen at the same time for the Twin Princess and Prince and their beloveds, and the Head of the castle guards had pinched his cheek before reminding him he had a sword he could use against anyone, anytime. 

Will had never been so embarrassed in his life, save for the day before with Mike. But that was Mike, and this was the entire castle. He felt like he was constantly surrounded by a cloud of mortification. His father kept sighing, brushing his mustache more often. 

“Wheeler,” Max says, turning around to face him, dress twirling around with her. Jane is holding her hand, making her laugh and break out of her frown when she twirls her around one more time. Max finishes giggling and repeats, “Wheeler. And you didn’t tell us. Not a word. Are you or are you not my brother-in-law?” 

“Technically we’re not in-laws yet,” Will dodges a cushion she throws at him, continuing, “and what about you two? You literally bet on us! What the hell?”

“Come on, as if it wasn’t obvious to literally everyone that’s ever seen you two interact from the age of eight that you’re disgustingly in love.” 

The tailors save him from the conversation by asking both Max and Jane to turn around and face them again so they can put the finishing touches on the hem lines of the skirts, but Will can’t stop thinking about it. A decade of being in love with his best friend and apparently the world just knew. Skies save me .

“Remember how Mike used to always go around saying he’d become a knight to protect his Prince?” 

Max nudges Jane, smirking. “Remember how they’d just give flowers to each other all the time? Nancy had to stop Mike from grabbing Foxglove once.” 

“They would have made the gardens run out of the Blue Moon wisteria. Plus,” Jane draws out, pointing at Will over her head without turning around. “They still give each other flowers. You had some daisies petals caught in your half-moon clips yesterday.” 

The tailors muffle their amusement while Will slaps a hand on his forehead loudly. He gets up, mortification growing steadily- he wonders if it’ll ever reach a definite peak at this rate.

“Yeah, yeah, keep slandering me. I’ll see you two at dinner.”

“Thank you, we will keep slandering you every chance we get.”

He doesn’t turn around and slams the door behind him, cackles following him out. 

*

The next day is much of the same, only it’s actually much worse because the cloud of mortification following him evaporates in a rain of anxiety constantly downpouring on him because it’s the day before the festival, and that means that tonight is the night before the festival and he has a rendezvous with Mike. No wait, rendezvous sounds way too romantic. He has a date with Mike. That’s still too romantic. An appointment, he has an appointment with Mike- that makes it sound like they were about to discuss trade prices. Will shakes his head at himself, not noticing a messenger approaching him outside the main hall. 

“My Prince,” the messenger approaches with a bow, holding up his arms in a placating gesture when Will jumps, startled out of his thoughts. “I apologize for scaring His Royal Highness.”

“Not at all, I’m so sorry, I was distracted.” Will clutches his chest a little. “What can I help you with?”

“His Royal Highness is as kind as always but-” he takes a small slip of paper out of the brown bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m here to relay a missive for you.” 

A soft oh of surprise escapes Will as he takes the small folded piece of paper held out on a gloved hand. “Thank you kindly.” 

“It’s a pleasure, my Prince.” The messenger bows again and heads ahead to request entrance to the main hall, probably in search for the next recipient of the missives he’s carrying. 

Will looks at the messy For Will scrawled on the top side-up of the note, ink a little smudged around the edges, and indulges the double-speed beating of his heart for a moment. He’s been wondering how these days went for Mike, if he had to endure teasing because of him. A pang of guilt takes him back to reality, hoping he didn’t cause Mike too much trouble. 

He tucks it close to his chest and then in the front pocket of his tunic, making his way to the third floor; he and Jane had spent their lives exploring each corner and crevice of the castle, and that was the floor with the most nook and crannies, perfect to hide away in for a little while. 

There's thankfully little commotion the more he heads upwards, mostly everyone busy with the last minute preparations on the ground floor. He calls out greetings to the few guards at the start of the corridor and heads towards the phoenix statue marking an alcove overlooking the gardens, dreamy purple hue coming from below as the light carries the vivid color of the wisteria tree at the center of the gardens. 

Will sighs, peeks his head out from the alcove to check that no one is about to pass by, and opens the note.

Will-

I don't think I've ever been more subtly threatened in my life. It's like people were ready for this to happen, it must have been the lifetime of friendship shared together, what do you think? I apologize in advance for the rude beau allegations you're going to be sullied with, I promise I'll try to be on my best behavior for the next two days. Except with your father, I reserve the right to be a nuisance to him considering his insane intent. I've told Nancy and my parents, she threatened me as well- unfair, you've always been her favorite. Mom was ecstatic, she pestered dad until he agreed to formally greet your parents at the ball. He's been a sworn vassal to the King for forever after all. I've missed you, I really want to see you tonight- although I must admit, I'm a little nervous.

Yours, Mike

P.S. I've marked your stand for the festival with daisies, I forgot to tell you- that's why I brought you some yesterday! 

Will's insides had swooped down at some point between the beau and the yours , he isn't quite sure on which one of the carefully scrawled lines. He folds the letter back up and tries not to scream, bracing himself for the night ahead.

*

The ballroom is lively with noise, a long evening of tuning music instruments and rehearsal for the night of the ball just beginning; Will is waiting for the perfect moment to slip away as unnoticed as he can hope to be, his mother and father preoccupied with talking to the troubadours that will be performing throughout the day tomorrow at the square while the musicians get settled. 

He backs away slowly towards the entrance, prepared to make a run down the corridor for the nearest glass door over the gardens; the ground floor is built around them, there’s plenty of openings to duck into the green court. 

A high pitched sound suddenly takes over the room, overpowering any other sound for a beat; the harpist tuning her harp is soon joined by a flute player doing the same, preparing for a duet. He shakes his hands nervously as he waits for another burst of sound that will focus everyone’s attention, but he catches his sister’s eyes first. 

He freezes and unfreezes in a flash, moving his eyebrows and calling on their twin telepathy to tell her, I’m meeting Mike. I have to go. He jerks his head back towards the entrance and mouths gardens. She smiles a happy grin and tries to mouth something but she turns away from him quickly, intercepting their father who was about to turn towards the doors as well.

Jane holds up a hand behind her back as if to signal for him to wait, and when the harp and flute try to find the right note again together, she waves at him to go. 

He’s already almost out before he sees her grab their father’s hand to lead him closer to the musicians again; he plants his foot back ready to turn and run but- one of the sentries stationed at the entrance throws him a glance, mouth curling up in a smile. He inclines his head to his left where the glass windows run all around the garden, a figure sitting hunched on a bench holding a sword visible under the light of the moon. “It appears His Royal Highness may have a visitor.” 

He feels his heartbeat skip, trying to go further to the moment he’ll be able to be next to Mike. The sentry on the other side clears his throat. “We haven’t seen our Prince pass this way.”

“Indeed. We wonder where he could have gone.” They keep looking ahead, expressions not betraying their amusement. Will laughs incredulously, looking back and forth between them. He touches both their elbows gently in thanks, smiles breaking fully on their faces. “Thank you for not seeing me!” he turns around and runs at last.

“Young love,” the sentry that spoke first says. “Mhhm,” the other agrees. 

*

The wisteria tree has been here since the kingdom was born, maybe even for longer; it is said that the Moon used to come down from the sky when Earth hid it from the Sun, wandering around, searching for a place to wallow in her sorrow of being unable to reach her beloved other-half. She had stumbled upon the tree, enchanted and comforted by its imposing beauty, holding up a blanket of flowers shielding her from the sky. She had sat beneath it, crying her pain away, tears taking root in the soil like the Sun had taken root in hers, until one fateful Eclipse night, the Sun came down as well, searching for her beloved. 

The Sun had gotten down on her knees at the sight of The Moon crying alone, touching the ground holding her tears. As soon as she had, a crowd of Blue Moon wisteria had sprung up, startling the Moon to look up and finally see her sweetheart. 

The Moon kingdom had been built around that tree and those flowers, the myth inspiring poets, artists, musicians for years to come; the people had chosen to celebrate it on the last lunar eclipse of the year, keeping the garden ready, empty and music playing, hoping to give the two halves the chance to come down to the gardens once more to meet again. 

Will trails his fingers along the Blue Moon wisteria surrounding him, fireflies sparkling around the gardens giving them a golden glow along with the few lanterns placed carefully beside the benches along its edges. He had always loved that story, trying to capture it often in lines and brushes of colors; it had been the first painting he had presented at the festival, a proud Mike smiling toothly at him the whole day from his unmovable perch next to him. 

He think he understand what the Sun may have felt staring at the Moon when she found her; if it’s anything close to the way his lungs constrict and his footsteps slows and his hands go slack at his sides, the thump of his heart coming from somewhere in his chest to ring loud in his ears, he’s amazed they still have a Sun at all in the sky. 

Mike has his head tilted up, ear sticking out of his long hair, an elvin quality to the picture he paints. He had shedded the heavy part of his armor along with his gloves, his chainmail the only thing left of his Order uniform.

A firefly hovering right in front of eyes breaks the reverie, and Will hurries to reach him, grab his wrist, and drag him on the other side of the court, where hopefully the bark of the tree will keep them hidden from view of the west corridor. 

“Wha- hey!” Mike stumbles behind him, fumbling to take a hold of his sword and not let it clang on the ground. Will sits down on a stone bench, Mike following his lead.

“Sorry, the sentries could see you from the ballroom entrance.”

“Oh- I didn’t realize, I should’ve sat on this side in the first place.”

“It’s fine, they declared they didn’t see me pass and have no idea where I went.”

Mike barks a laugh, a blush on his cheek faintly visible under the scattered points of light out here. Will can feel nervousness rise in the air; they stare at each other until they both swallow and look away at the same time. Suddenly each breath rings as loud as the clanking of a sword on stone, each faint chirping of a cricket hidden somewhere in the flowers seems to come right next to their ears and the hand they respectively have laid on the cold stone of the bench radiates warmth. Will sits with his back rigid, hyper-aware of everything. 

“I’m sorry if all of this has caused you trouble.”

“No! No, it really was like-” Mike turns to look at him, face pinched in confusion. “Like everyone was expecting it? I told the Order and everyone just sighed and told me I better court the Prince right.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “My family was the exact same. They didn’t even pause.” Will tries very hard not to let Max and Jane’s voices ring in his head. 

“What about your dad? Has he said anything else?” 

It’s Will’s turn to scoff, bouncing his leg a little. “He keeps mentioning the people coming from the neighboring kingdom for the festival saying how we,” he puts air-quotes around that , “ Could hang out with them at the ball.”

Mike’s mouth twists in a sneer, the tension that seemed to make his movements stiff and a tad awkward breaking in favor of waving his arms as he rants,“He deserves another rhyme about him, I was actually thinking about it this morning, The King’s a right old ba-”

“Alright, alright!” Will laughs, feeling a bit of tension give out in his muscles as well. “Let’s not make him exile us on sight. I thought he was going to straight up issue a law to ban you from the castle grounds.”

“He can try,” Mike widens his eyes for emphasis, hands falling back down; the hand on Will’s side falls on his and they both freeze up again. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah- I sorry, well- I mean, we’re here for- for this.” Will tries to keep the tremble in his fingers at bay as Mike hesitantly spreads his hand over his. “Right?” 

“Right,” he breathes in answer and marvels at the feeling of warmth spreading from his skin to his heart. His arm twitches a little as he turns his hand palm-up, flush with Mike’s. 

Mike’s head snaps up to meet his eyes and Will feels them travel to each marked point of the map of his face, settling on their hands once more. Mike carefully fits his fingers in the space between Will’s and locks their hands together. 

They’ve held hands countless times; running around as kids, shrieking in joy; in comfort, drying tears away; in jest, with gentle shoulder pushes. But this feels so different somehow, like each of the time they’ve held hands was a stepping stone to their fingers interlocked, secure, safe. 

“This-” Mike clears his throat, squeezing his hand. “Is what sweethearts do, right?”

“It is-” Will presses his other hand on his chest for a second, trying to calm down. “We’ve held hands so many times before, but my heart just-” he cuts himself off, Mike’s small high sound of agreement reminding him he’s not in a dream.

“Yeah- mine too, it’s just-” he doesn’t finish, raising their entwined hands to rest them softly over his thigh, the sudden cold of the chainmail making Will inhale sharply. 

“It’s okay, that’s why we’re here, we can get used to it a little-” Mike sounds like he’s trying hard to convince himself more than anything, hair flying around his nodding head. “It’ll be fine. Totally fine. Completely fine.”

Will thinks it’s more likely they’ll both be actually exiled. “We’re gonna be exiled.”

“Come on, we won’t”. Mike tugs him by the hand, making his mouth curl up in a little smile. “We’ll be the best sweethearts in town.” 

“You mean the worst, I can’t even imagine how we’re going to dance at the ball. You have two left feet.”

“You’re insulting me while I’m trying to keep you in your kingdom. I see how it is.” He turns his nose up in mock offense and Will cackles properly this time. “You tripped all over  Nancy’s dress the last time you tried to dance. It’s no wonder she, Holly and Jane are the only people that ever offer.”

“They offer only to mock me.” Mike gives an exaggerated sigh, spine slumping.

Will coos at him, bumping him with his shoulder. “I promise I won’t tease you when we dance.”

He would be concerned with how deeply red Mike becomes in the span of five seconds flat if he wasn’t concerned with realizing that they indeed have to dance and that they’ve kept holding hands this whole time. 

“Skies above, we have to dance, I’m going to embarrass you so much-” 

“Hey,” Will admonishes, self-consciousness giving way to the indignation of hearing his best friend even imply something like that. “You could never embarrass me. Ever, no matter what. You could step on my feet the whole evening and I’d be the proudest person in the room.” 

There’s a little bit of awe in the way Mike’s eyes glimmer and his mouth slacks open in a silent exclamation, trying to come up with a response that isn’t just a flustered string of sounds. His hand is getting clammy in Will’s and in a burst of courage, Will drags him up by their grip on each other. 

Mike’s face pinches with confusion and he bumps the sword he left resting upright on the ground by the side of the bench; he doesn’t even pause to check if it’s still upright, attention on Will.

“Plus,” Will says, holding up the pointer finger of his free hand once they’re standing right by the bark of the wisteria tree, under the ribbons of flowers hanging by its branches. Mike tilts his head to the side to hear what Will is waiting for him to hear. “We’re here to practice, right?”

The fuzzy sound of a flute and harp entwining together comes from the ballroom, and Mike thought it would be impossible to blush harder than this, but here he is. He nods slowly, and Will lets go of his hand to bring it around his own waist, grabbing his other one to hold it out, stretching out their arms. “Like this,” he says, and Mike looks down with him to slot their feet together like puzzle pieces. 

Will’s half-moon clips catch a little on his chainmail as they start to sway, and he’s supporting him with a hand open flat in the center of Mike’s back. 

They can’t quite follow the rhythm of the tune the wind is carrying to them, gently swaying the flowers above them, yet it still feels like the song is being played just for them.

Will realizes he’s been holding his breath when Mike steps on his toes a little, releasing it with a laugh. “Damned- I’m sorry-”

Will shakes his hand, squeezing Mike’s back. “It’s okay, keep going.” 

Mike sighs and holds his arm straight up again, trying to bite the smile off his lips. The more they sway around the tree the more he can’t keep it down, letting it light his face up when Will laughs at his attempt at a focused face. 

They circle the tree again, getting further away from the bark, closer to the edge of the branches where the flowers hang a little lower. They stop abruptly when a cluster of purple smacks Mike in the forehead; he splutters and Will breaks their pose to reach up with both hands towards his hair. 

Mike marvels at him; the people’s beloved Prince, his beloved best friend, sunshine in his eyes even under cover of darkness-

“Pretty,” he says, and Mike’s breath catches.

“What?”

“Flowers in your hair suit you,” Will leaves a few petals gently nestled in his curls, patting them down and resting his hands on his shoulders. 

Mike reaches up to pick a petal as well, tucking it behind Will’s ear. “You’re pretty as well.” 

The music fades out but it picks up immediately again with the banging of a tabor piercing through the scene, embarrassment surging up again around the warm edges of the moment. They don’t move away from each other, but Will circles his arms around himself and rubs a little at his shoulder, Mike doing the same to the back of his neck, bashful.

“We did really well, if I do say so myself.”

“Toes stomped excluded, we did.”

“You said you wouldn’t tease.”

“Wasn’t teasing, just an objective fact.”

“Who are you, the Order of objective facts?”

“I’m the Prince of objective facts, actually.”

Mike rolls his eyes, absentmindedly taking Will’s hand to lead him towards the entrances to the gardens over on the west corridor. Will is too stunned by the fact that Mike seems to genuinely not realize he’s doing it to muster up more embarrassment. “How could I forget, the people’s Prince in everything.”

“That’s right.” They come to a halt in front of the open glass door, corridor empty. The fireflies seem to have followed them to keep light on their path. Will looks at them and turns back to Mike, finding his gaze still on his face. It looks- searching. Like he’s trying to read the last page of a book written between the beauty marks on his skin. 

“Thank you again, Mike.”

“Don’t mention it Will, seriously.” He squeezes his hand, letting it go and actually taking a step back this time. “I’ll meet you tomorrow at your stand? I asked to be stationed there with you.” 

I really love you, Will thinks. But instead of saying it he darts up on his tip-toes to press a fleeting kiss on Mike’s cheek, leaving both him and himself dazed. 

“Uh, for, you know-”

“Practice?”

“Practice.” They chorus at the same time; Will nods, walking backwards to step over into the corridor. Mike lifts a hand up to his cheek, gesturing to the other side of the gardens with the other. “I’ll- I’ll just- sneak out from the east s-side,” he stutters, fingers still pressed over the spot Will just kissed him on. 

“Okay, be careful getting back-” the commotion from the ballroom surges up and Will instinctively looks over towards it. He has to get back before they get caught up in more time they can’t afford to be caught up in right now. “See you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow,” Mike responds, chasing a little after Will to add, “I can’t wait to see the painting!”

Will doesn’t know which power saves him from tripping, but he’s thankfully still walking away.

“Don’t forget your sword!” He throws over his shoulder, quickening his steps.

“Damn it all, ” he hears from behind him, and laughs to himself. 

*

Will and Jane head down to the square earlier than their parents, painting and crafts materials in tow. Will usually displayed his work for the festival while he set up a little drawing station, open to whoever wanted to draw with him or request something from him. Jane hopped from stand to stand with Max, enthusiastic to check out everything, but she loved to get back to Will often during the day to sit down and draw as well. 

The skies have blessed the day with a perfect shiny sun, high in the middle of a clear light blue ocean. The road to town is paved with enthusiastic calls of their names and happy greetings, eagerness to start the day palpable in the way everyone seems to have an extra bounce in their step. 

The two knights accompanying Will and Jane point at the full moon banners getting less blurry the closer they get to the square, making them run up ahead. “Be careful, Your Highnesses!” They laugh, chasing after them. 

The square is already crowded and noisy, bursting with buoyant energy; musicians are playing lutes in front of the fountain right at the center, people dancing and singing along with the troubadours adding sing-song poems to the tunes; several artists have stunning works displayed in front of their stands, people huddling close to the canvases to take a better look. 

There’s an actor performing a monologue to a patient knight standing still to be used as a prop, dramatic voice abruptly going high when he spots Will and Jane looking at him. “Prince! Princess!” he calls, bowing with a flourish; the crowd seems to stop and turn towards them at the same time, echoing the actor. 

Will and Jane both blush like each time they’re lucky enough to be shown so much love, walking slowly to try and say hello to as many people as they can. Jane tugs on his sleeve at some point, stretching her neck to see where she’s pointing better: a chain of daisies hanging from the wooden center pole of a stand on the right of the fountain. Mike is perfectly still beside it, a gloved hand poised in a closed fist on the chest plate of his glimmering armor, the other held firmly on the pommel of his sword.

Will gulps, clutching his rolled-up painting. It’s a wonder it’s not crumpled beyond repair with how much it has suffered at the hands of his emotions. He feels Jane tug on his sleeve again, and this time he knows it’s in silent support. It’s like the noise dims down, everyone holding their breath to see what’s going to happen, unaware that Will hasn’t got a clue himself. 

When Will stops in front of him he spots the most minuscule of nose-twitches on his best friend’s face, betraying a little hesitancy. It lasts just for a beat, because Mike moves and actually bows, extending the hand on his chest palm-up towards Will. Will’s breath catches, and the eyes on them make the sun shining down feel much warmer than it is. 

Will is so flustered he snaps out of staring at Mike looking at him from beneath his lashes when Jane nudges him again, and he takes a step forward to rest his hand into Mike’s. He holds it firmly once skin slips onto soft velvet, smiling at Will.

“My Prince.” Oh no. Oh no, I can’t handle this, this is too much-  

The crowd lets go of their collective breath with a dreamy sigh, music picking up again. Will wants to shout a tiny little bit. 

They’re still holding hands when Jane dumps the bag of crafts she was carrying on a wooden table surrounded by stools, jolting them out of their staring match. “My princess.” Mike greets her with a dull voice, making her giggle. He straightens up and moves to help her, ducking close to Will for a second to whisper, “Was that okay?” 

I think I saw a different plane of existence, Will thinks. “Y-yeah. Fine. So okay.” 

Mike nods, eyes a little suspicious at his strangled voice. Will can’t wrap his head around how calm he is after last night. 

He shakes his head to clear his jammed mind, focusing on unfolding the painting and setting it up on the easel. Both Mike and Jane come to help him secure its angles to keep it straight after they’re done with the table, holding it still. “You’ll love it,” Jane says slyly to Mike, Will rolling his eyes at her.

“Alright,” he steps back from the easel, hands hovering near its sides in case it should fold back up. When it stays put he claps his hands together, “Done.” 

Mike and Jane come around to stand on either side of him facing the canvas and Will can’t help but feel a little smug at the way Mike stumbles while standing still. 

“This is- wow-” 

The foreground of the painting shows the back of a knight, long curls blowing behind him as his arms are raised, facing a three-headed fiery red dragon imposing in the background, bracing his sword and shield for a fight. The sky thunders in frozen scarlet lighting, magic electric in the air. 

Will’s smugness lasts all of three seconds before he remembers he painted this before they even had a fake courtship on their minds, hoping Mike doesn’t inquire on who exactly this knight resembles. 

“Kinda looks like Mike from the back, doesn’t he?” Max’s voice comes out of nowhere, and Will gapes at his future sister-in-law. She takes mercy on him and just winks, grabbing Jane hand and announcing she was stealing her for a bit to search for famous bard Dustin Henderson! , the both of them disappearing through the sea of people admiring the painting. 

“My prince, that is just stunning work!”

“And the colors are so vivid-”

“The hair looks so realistic, and the anticipation of the fight-”

“Truly worthy of the most fantastical of stories being written about-” 

As Will goes to thank everyone for their kind words, heart still hammering in his chest, the loud sound of staffs being banged on the ground to grab everyone’s attention distracts him from Mike unfreezing next to him, turning towards the sound as well. He looks a little dazed, mouth still parted around unvoiced surprise. 

“Heralding the arrival of His Majesty the King and her Majesty the Queen!” The court announcers cry, bringing their staffs down once more as they separate to make way for the King and Queen. The crowd cheers and they answer in kind, happy in return at seeing their people so happy. 

Will hides his face behind a hand on his forehead once he watches his father’s smile slip into a frown, eyes narrowing when he spots him and Mike. He tugs on the Queen’s hand and all but drags her to where they’re standing, the knights on escorting duty forming a perfect circle around them. 

“Oh, baby, this is just stunning!” His mother falls forward to hug him and cup his cheek, smothering him. Will hugs her back. “Thank you mom, I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it!” she says, and turns to grab his father’s hand when he comes closer to ruffle Will’s hair affectionately, smiling proudly. “That is one badass dragon, son.”  

“Thank you guys. Where’s Jonathan? I thought you were waiting for him to arrive before coming.”

His mother shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “We just received an urgent note from the neighboring kingdom- the court had some trouble organizing their travels, so they’ll be coming directly for the ball tomorrow.” 

“He was disappointed about missing the display,” his father adds when he sees his face fall, squeezing his neck in comfort. “He mentioned he can’t wait to see the painting as soon as he gets back.” 

Will nods, sighing; honestly, he was really missing his big brother. Warning horns go off in his head when his father turns to Mike and then back to the painting a few times. 

Mike bows low in a perfectly formal greeting. “My King. My Queen. This loyal servant is at your service.” 

“Are you?” His dad sounds incredulous, stepping closer to Mike. Oh boy, here we go. “Care to explain why you haven’t felt the need to ask for permission before courting my son?”

“Jim,” Joyce admonishes, letting out a huff. 

“My King is perfectly right.” Mike says, still bowed low. “It was this servant's intention to formally ask at the ball tomorrow, with the favor of the moon.” 

Joyce pushes Jim out of the way, urging Mike to straighten up with gentle hands on his armor. “Don’t listen to him, Mike. He’s just being silly.” 

“This kid keeps throwing branches in the wheels of my carriage Joyce-”

Will sees the moment Mike decides to throw any care for his life out of the window when anger slips into the lines around his eyes and he throws himself between him and his parents with his hands held up. “Alright, alright, guys. Let’s just enjoy the festival. I asked Mike to the ball in the first place, I told you at dinner, remember?” 

“Still-”

“You’re right, baby- let’s walk a little Jim, I think I saw Jane and Max next to a bard over there.”

“Good, maybe I’ll commission a song about a three-headed dragon eating a knight.”

Will actually gasps. Mike smirks, gesturing at the lower half of his own face. “There seem to be a few crumbs in your mustache, my King.” 

“You little-” 

“We’ll see you guys later! Have fun, baby.” Joyce gushes, dragging Jim behind her by the hand, the knights following them along. 

Will just stares at Mike, arms slack by his sides. “Do you want to die that badly?”

“The look on his face was so funny-” Will rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars, Mike still lost in his own amusement. 

Will is distracted by a small hand tugging on the hem of his tunic. “Prince Will! Prince Will!”

“Oh- hello!” he greets the three little kids in front of him, crutching down on his knees to be at eye-level with them. “Yes?”

“We really like dragons,” the kid that tugged on his tunic says in a conspiratorial whisper, the other two nodding seriously in agreement. Will hums, cupping a hand around his ear to play along and encourage them to continue. The kid on his right puts a small hand on his knee, eyes pleading. “Can you teach us how to paint them?” 

“Of course I can! Come along, guys.” He stands up, waiting for them to start walking first so he can guide them over to the stools around the table. Mike comes over to help lift each of the kids on the stools, their happy shrieks at seeing brushes and paints making both Mike and Will smile as they share a look. 

“So,” he starts, sitting between the three of them. “Which color do you want your dragon to be?” 

“We can choose?” a little girl with swinging ponytails asks, eyeing the yellow pigments. 

“Indeed you can, when you paint you can create whatever you want.”

“I want a green dragon!” 

“I want a red one with a brave knight just like yours!” 

“All amazing choices,” Will grins, wetting the paintbrushes for them. “I still haven’t asked your names, that is terribly rude of me.” The kids shriek with laughter again, chorusing their names all at once. “I’m Jack!”, “I’m Thea!”, “I’m Arthur!”; Will inclines his head each time he catches a name, hand pressed over his heart. “It is very nice to meet you all.” 

He passes the brushes to each of them, their faces immediately shining with determination.

“Here’s your pigments,” he points to all the colors they mentioned, raising his eyebrows at Arthur, the last kid who spoke. “I’m afraid we’ll have to find a brave knight to pose for your painting, Arthur.” A small gasp leaves him as he doesn’t miss a beat and looks around, pointing at Mike standing behind Will. “There’s a knight right here!”

“Me?” Mike exclaims, clutching his chest plate. “I’m honored by your consideration.”

Will taps a finger on his cheek, fixing Mike with a calculating stare. “But are you a brave knight, though?” 

Mike looks down at Will, swaying closer imperceptibly, dragging his eyes from his mouth to his eyes so slowly it seems a small eternity has passed. “The bravest, Your Highness.” 

Will huffs, knowing there’s a blush high on his cheeks. “You’ll do, then.” 

The kids whoop, oblivious to Will’s heart plummeting in his stomach. Again. 

Mike strikes an exaggerated pose, chest held up proudly with his sword held perfectly perpendicular to his chest. The kids laugh at him while Will shakes his head, his small smile warming Mike down to his toes. 

He tries his best to keep still, turning only his head a little so he can follow Will as he guides the kids to paint their masterpieces. The fireflies in his stomach ever-present around his best friend shine warmer at the happy sparkle in his honey gaze, his gentle everything and just- at him and- Mike snaps his eyes back ahead, convinced his heart shot out to bang against his armor with how loud it pounds for a second. This is why no one was surprised, he thinks. 

Time drags through a constant chase of each other’s gaze for them both, a quiet conversation unspoken through the sounds of joy painting the day to an end.

*

Will looks a this reflection, adjusting the high collar of his silk tunic, a pure white lined with deep orange twirls around its edges, the same deep orange wrapped around his waist with a sash; the tailors had customized the decoration at chest-height, a neat dance of green and orange around a half-moon sown in gray. He tries to make his hair as neat as he can, waiting for Jane to come back with their crowns; she insisted on going to pick up their jewelry, citing a surprise about to arrive. 

Will gives up the battle against his fringe when it keeps falling a little flat, blowing it off his forehead with a frustrated sigh. The creaking of the door opening makes him peek behind himself through the mirror, his brother stepping into the room.

“Your hair looks good, buddy, don’t worry.”

“Jonathan!” Will shouts, turning around and throwing himself at his brother, who hugs him tightly immediately in return. Jane follows next, setting their crowns and earrings down and joining the hug, smiling at Will. “Surprise!” 

Jonathan laughs at them, drawing back to look at them both. “You knew I was coming today.”

“But not when!” Jane turns to Will, nodding her chin at Jonathan. “I overheard mom and dad saying they got word carriages of the neighboring kingdom had passed the castle gates.”

“And thank the Skies they did,” Jonathan deadpans, unable to keep the smile off his face for too long; they giggle at his tone and their big brother’s eyes soften. “I missed you guys.”

“Missed you too.” They say at the same time, linking pinkies and pressing their thumbs together for the twin telepathy moment. 

Jonathan picks up their crowns, each in one hand, and gently puts them over their heads. A golden tiara with stars around a full moon perfectly falling at the top of her forehead for Jane, and a golden circlet for Will with a silver half-moon laying horizontally and surrounded by drops of shiny crystals that falls over the center of his forehead as well. 

“Did you see Nancy already?” Jane asks, adjusting her tiara. 

“Yes, the Wheelers have arrived already. Mom and Dad are also already seated, it’s just us missing.” 

Will chokes a little, trying to be inconspicuous by picking up his sun and moon earrings to slip them on. Judging by the way Jonathan stares at him with a raised eyebrow it doesn’t work. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

“Uh,” Will mumbles, running his hands down his pants to smooth down a few wrinkles. “Mike is my date to the ball?”

“Interesting,” Jane slips her arm under Jonathan’s, getting ready to head out. “Truly, I could have never seen this coming. It’s not like you’re the whole reason he’s a knight.” 

“That’s not true!” 

“Still, he could've asked permission for the courtship first.”

“You sound just like dad, come on!”

“With how pale Mike was I suppose it’s about to happen tonight, so we’ll have to see.”

Will snaps his mouth shut, nerves tightening his stomach. It must have shown in his expression because Jonathan turns serious, grin softening into an encouraging up-turn of his mouth. “Hey,” he starts, in his big brother voice. “It’s going to be okay, Will. You have nothing to worry about.” 

Will hesitates, feeling like a little kid unable to keep a single secret from his brother. “But mom and dad-” he huffs, frustrated, and shakes his head. Jonathan more than concerned looks suspicious now. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Will slips his arm on Jonathan’s other side, finding both his siblings staring at him, confused. “Really, guys, it’s nothing. Let’s go.” He takes a deep breath and drags them both out of the door.

*

“The Heirs to the throne!” The court announcers draw everyone’s attention to the door, chatter shushing down to look at the last awaited entrance of the night. 

“Returning from a visit to the Crystal palace, Prince and first in line, Jonathan Hopper-Byers!” 

The ballroom is decorated with blue moon wisteria, from vases full of it to strings held up and dangling from the ceiling, and the guests pick up branches of them to wave at Jonathan in greeting as he enters, tired eyes making a bee-line for Nancy waiting for him at the center of the room. 

Will and Jane look at each other, staying arm in arm. Will can see Max standing beside Nancy to wait for Jane, talking to a knight they’ve never seen before, armor decorated with crystals. “Who is he?” Jane asks, curious. 

“I don’t know, must be from the Crystal court-” Will’s words trail off, breath catching when he sees Mike slowly make his way on the other side of Max, a long green mantle the same shade as the decoration on his tunic flowing behind him and- he has a few little purple petals in his hair. 

“Their Royal Highnesses, Princess Jane and Prince William Hopper-Byers!” 

Will is grateful for Jane, because he isn’t sure he would have made the entrance without her guiding him through his muted daze. His heart is loud, his head is swimming, and Mike is right in front of him. He feels weightless and the feeling only gets more heightened as Mike bows with an extended hand again, same as yesterday. Will looks up a little panicked, catching Jane, Max and the unknown knight all giving him thumbs ups. 

He takes Mike’s hand again, but this time he really thinks instead of another plane of existence he sees several others all at once, because Mike doesn’t straighten up immediately, but kisses the back of his hand first. He can feel everything pause and only start moving again when Mike stands, still holding his hand. 

“You look really beautiful.”

“You look really pretty.” Will swallows and reaches up to touch the flowers in his hair, Mike’s eyes soft. 

“Someone told me purple flowers suited me.”

“Must’ve been a pretty wise someone.”

“It was, goes by the name of Will the Wise, maybe you’ve heard of him.”

“Gods above, I can actually feel cavities taking root in my teeth right now.”

Will and Mike turn to look at Max holding a laughing Jane. “They’re cute, leave them be.”

Max sighs, turning towards the knight she was talking to. “If you can spare us from your blinding love for two seconds,” she throws them a glare, gesturing to the knight. “This is Lucas, a knight from the Crystal court. He’s pretty cool.” 

“It’s an honor to meet you, Princess, Prince,” he bows to each of them, perfectly formal. Will and Jane bow in return, hands over their hearts. “And this,” Max continues, nodding her head at Mike, “is knight Mike Wheeler. He’s the Prince’s suitor.” 

Will can feel Mike tense through their joined hands, and he turns to look at the way his expression closes off. “Nice to meet you.” 

“And you as well,” Lucas says. “News of the Prince’s courtship hasn't reached our kingdom yet.”

“Oh, it’s pretty recent, even though they’ve been in love their entire lives.” Max says, Jane nodding along, the both of them not even turning to see the protesting mess Mike and Will have become. Lucas laughs loudly. 

“It’s refreshing to see the heirs to the throne able to be with who they love.” He continues after Jane’s questioning noise, turning to speak to her. “There were talks in our court to arrange a marriage for our Prince. Unfortunate, if you ask me. I was actually thinking of moving along with my friend Dustin, who’s a traveling bard- our current king isn’t the best of men, if you pardon my bluntness.” 

Will stiffens immediately, anxiety making his shoulders tremble a little. Mike steps in front of him subtly, squeezing his hand. “If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to dance with the Prince.” 

The three of them stop talking about Lucas being friends with a famous bard, turning to stare at Mike. Lucas starts to nod while Jane and Max burst out laughing. Mike rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know- two left feet.” 

“Good luck, Will!” They call as Mike drags Will to the dance floor, nodding at him. Will nods back, the bottom of his stomach still falling out. He can do this. They can do this.

He moves Mike into position and waits until the harp picks up to start leading them, a gentle, slow rhythm that feels comforting despite the eyes he knows are looking at them. Mike is solid in his arms, expression calm and reassuring even if he’s blushing. “It’s going to be okay.”

Will nods again, wishing he could just be in the moment without anything else in their way. Mike’s back stiffens a little under his palm, eyebrows going wild to signal Will to look behind himself; so Will twirls them, changing their stances, Mike letting out a little huff, and finds his dad staring at them from the seat at the head of the room. “He looks ready to explode something with his mind.” 

“Must have had no ham for dinner.” It startles Will in a surprised laugh, making him relax a little. Mike’s face pinches in concentration, and Will can’t ask him what’s going on because he finds himself being twirled this time, stumbling only a little. 

“Wow, a twirl- you pass dance class with flying colors.” 

“I better, I actually practiced.”

“You didn’t.”

“I really did, it was extremely embarrassing.” 

Will kind of can’t handle the affection he feels for him in that moment, letting go of his hold on his back and hand to circle his arms around his neck instead. Mike’s mantle sways around them as they move around the room, and the hands on his waist are careful, tender. Like he’s holding something precious. He gets lost for a blessed while, following the music.

“Maybe-” Mike's eyes dart rapidly between Will's, and it seems he's whispering to himself more than talking to him. "I-"

"What is it?"  Will whispers back, a flute starting to join the chords of the harp, mirroring their last dance. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

It’s like the whole room falls away and they’re back under the wisteria tree, the moon nowhere to be seen on her own journey to meet the sun. An odd sense of calm washes over Will, like he’s about to know the answer to everything. He gives a tiny nod in response, Mike’s eyes already on his lips. 

The kiss is soft, a gentle pressure kept until their noses slot together and their heads tilt and it all makes the most sense, their surroundings speeding up while they stay still. They break the kiss to breathe, and when Will opens his eyes he realizes he’s gripping onto Mike for dear life. “Wow,” Mike says, and Will can’t help but smile helpless in return. “Eloquent.”

Their foreheads fall together but the clearing of a throat, has them turning around towards the deep sound, startled. The King is standing there, the Queen holding on to his arm. 

Will tries to step back from Mike but he doesn’t budge, keeping his hold on Will. 

“I’d like to speak to you. Both of you.” He says, face stony. Will can feel it in his bones that Mike is about to reply with something way too snarky for the situation, planting an elbow in his side. No use in hiding. Time to face the music. 

He nods at his dad, and does step away this time, but keeps his hand holding Mike’s. He knows Mike understands when he holds his hand back firmly and waits to follow his lead. 

The King’s head jerks towards the entrance, and Will would laugh at the way his dad’s crown sways if he wasn’t so confused; he’d thought for the conversation about to happen they'd at least bring them to the throne room, not the empty marble corridor. 

Will shakes his head at Jane and Max, who make to follow them. He hopes the twin telepathy works when he looks at Jane and widens his eyes. It’s okay, don’t worry.

She holds Max’s hand tightly, watching him go.

Once they’re out of the ballroom his dad keeps walking a few more paces, sounds of the night coming from the open doors spilling over the garden. it’s pitch black outside; the lunar eclipse must have begun. 

Mike and Will both stop, the Queen doing the same. She rolls her eyes and Will feels a stab of sadness in his chest, surely this is- they wouldn’t- 

Just as his dad turns to probably start shouting with a raised finger, Will steps in front of Mike, bracing himself.

“I’m in love with Mike.” he interrupts, and his dad falls silent. He hears Mike suck in a breath behind him.

“I’m in love with Mike. Really-” he turns around a little, unable to actually look at him as he says it. “In love with Mike. And I won’t- marry someone I don’t love.” 

His parents stare at him; their faces go through a whole journey, from confused to stunned to even more confused. Will genuinely doesn’t understand why they’re being like this, isn’t this worthy of more than just staring like he’s speaking in tongues?

“Honey,” his mother starts. Her tone is cautious. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you in the throne room!” He explodes, throwing his hands up. “You were talking about arranged marriages and political connections and- and me!” He hates how he feels tears well up in his eyes, fiercely rubbing at them. 

“What?” his dad sounds- offended, actually. He comes up to Will to put both hands on his shoulders, looking down at him. “We would never. Never.” His mom steps forward to stand at his side, clutching his arm. She pushes his fringe off his forehead, shushing noises leaving her as Will’s mouth trembles. 

“No, honey, don’t cry- we were talking about the neighboring king.”

It’s Will’s turn to mumble a small, teary, “what?”

“That weasel was talking about arranging a marriage for his son at our last political meeting, I was telling your mother.” Will sniffs a little, grabbing his mother’s hand. “You were?”

She nods, picking up where his father left off. “He was. And we were talking about how we would never even think of something like this, and how Jonathan and Jane have found their loves already, but you-” She nods behind him where he knows Mike is standing. “Were still dancing around yours.” 

Will sniffs again, unspeakable relief slumping his shoulders down. “But why did you bring us out here?”

His father shakes him a little to make him smile, and when he does he steps back, rounding on Mike. “Because this rascal is kissing you in my own castle and I haven’t even heard a formal request for permission for courtship first.” 

“I’d like to court the Prince,” Mike says immediately, and when Will looks at him he can see the same relief he feels. Wait. He asked Mike to fake a courtship with him to avoid an arranged marriage. That never existed. He kissed him. And he heard him say he’s in love with him. Oh Gods above- 

The mortification is an instant fatal blow, tears stopping with the sheer overpowering feeling of embarrassment taking over everything else, his body locking up. 

“I’d like to court the Prince,” Mike repeats, voice more sure this time, face pale and picking up color at alarming speed. “Sir.” 

The King throws his head back, crestfallen, while the Queen laughs. “Permission granted.” She says, waving away the whine of her name coming from the King. “Come on you big baby, let’s leave them alone.” 

She drags him away kicking and complaining the whole way, silence taking their place between Will and Mike. They stare at each other, hesitant.

“I am,” Will starts. “So embarrassed.” He buries his face in his hands and groans when Mike starts laughing. He hears footsteps come closer and finds himself enveloped in a hug, face still hidden by his hands. 

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s tragic.”

“It kind of was fate.”

Will lifts his head, finding himself level with Mike’s chin. He wiggles back until he gets the hint and lets him go a little so they can look at each other properly. “It was fate that I misheard a conversation and convince myself I was about to be married for political convenience while being disastrously in love with my best friend?”

Mike nods, serious. “It was. It got us here.” He squeezes Will tighter, as if to remind him where he is. “You’re really in love with me, huh?”

Will taps his fingers on the chest plate of the armor, sliding them up around Mike’s neck.

“I really am.” 

Mike’s face blooms with happiness and he hides it in Will’s hair. “I’m really in love with you too.” He turns his face to press a kiss to his temple. “My prince.”

*

“And,” Will draws out, waiting for a second before letting go of the canvas on the easel. “Done!” he grins, tugging on Mike’s hand to let him come around and see his painting for this year’s Arts festival. 

“Will, this is absolutely beautiful,” there’s awe in his beloved’s voice, and he reaches out as if to trace the deep purple flowers on the canvas. Two figures with long hair stand beneath a wisteria tree, locked in an embrace, surrounded by blue moon flowers.The Sun and The Moon. Myne owne hertis rote is the title written on its right corner; my own heart’s root, Will thinks, turning to smile at Mike to find him already looking back.