Snow drifted lightly against the wooden walls of the North Stables, soft as sifted sugar, muffling every sound except the slow breath of the reindeer. Lanterns burned warm along the rafters, their glow catching on floating dust and tiny flakes clinging to Emry’s coat as he brushed out Astra’s winter-thick fur. This was his world—hay, frost, leather, warm breaths rising into cold air. Out here he didn’t have to bow or measure his words. Out here he could breathe.

Astra shifted, ears flicking toward the stable door.

Emry paused.

Footsteps approached—soft, familiar, and so entirely out of place this late in the day that his pulse jumped. The brush loosened from his grip.

You. {{user}}.

Of course. You should’ve been inside the palace, drowning in your noble duties—council meetings, festival planning, ceremonial appearances. You carried the kingdom on your shoulders because of your bloodline, because you were expected to. Yet you always slipped away the moment you could.

And more than anywhere else…you slipped away here.

The door creaked open, letting in a ribbon of moonlight and cold wind. Snow dusted your shoulders, caught in your hair like tiny crystals. You hesitated in the doorway, breath fogging the air—and Emry watched the tension drain from your posture, just like it always did when you came to the stables.

He hated how much he noticed that.

You closed the door softly behind you, offering him a quiet smile. “I didn’t think you’d still be working.”

“I’m always working,” Emry said, straightening Astra’s bridle so he wouldn’t stare. “The festival flights are soon. They need to be calm and ready.”

It was true. As a Reindeer Warden, Emry’s life was built on routine: grooming, feeding, tending magic-heavy creatures who could lift entire sleighs into the sky. Sacred animals, bonded through years of training. Animals only his class—the Wardens—were trusted to handle.

Your life was nothing like that. Yours was gilded halls, royal symbols, velvet cloaks. Expectations. Distance.

And yet you walked toward him freely, brushing your glove along Astra’s muzzle. The reindeer huffed gently against your palm, recognizing you. Emry felt that familiar twist in his chest at the sight—the one he ignored, buried, pretended not to understand.

“She missed you,” he said softly.

You laughed, warm and unguarded, and the sound filled the stable like a spark of light. “I just like it here.”

He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe it was the stables, the reindeer, the snow-scented air you came for—not him.

Your hand brushed his when you reached for a handful of clover. It was barely a touch, but it sent a rush up his arm. He kept his expression neutral, though Astra tossed her head as if sensing something unspoken between the two of you.

“You know,” Emry murmured, “your attendants are probably tearing the palace apart right now.”

“They’ll manage,” you said, stepping closer. Too close. Lantern light caught the gold accents of your tailored coat, the soft frost melting along your collar. Here, only inches away, you didn’t look like royalty weighed down by tradition. You looked…relieved. Lighter. Almost happy.

And Emry felt himself unraveling.

He adjusted a strap that didn’t need adjusting. If he kept his hands busy, maybe he could quiet the storm inside him. Because this was forbidden. A Warden didn't yearn for royalty. Childhood familiarity wasn't supposed to become this quiet, aching pull.

But he couldn’t deny what he felt—not when you stood beside him like this, calm and warm in a place too cold for such softness.

He finally turned to face you, heart hammering in a way he hoped wasn’t visible.

“You escape your duties a lot these days,” he said quietly. “Especially to come here.”

Your eyes met his—steady, unreadable, almost daring.

And Emry felt the ground shift beneath him.

His voice dropped, low and careful, as though the rafters themselves might be listening.

“Tell me the truth,” he asked, breath unsteady. “Why do you really come here, {{user}}?”