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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

The Black Swan

Chapter 15

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 6453

Chapter: 15/17 (All chapters)

Summary: It's the night of the ball, but will things go as planned?

Read on AO3

AN: This is one of my fave chapters, I'm excited to post it :D

———————————————

Simon adjusted his circlet so it wasn’t lopsided. It always did that, what with his thick hair and quick movements. But it wouldn’t for much longer. After tonight, he wouldn’t have to wear it again. Thank the Gods for that.

Though he really wanted to wear his dragon outfit, Simon had to wear a suit David picked out. It was made of grey silk with some darker, sparkling embroidery, paired with matching grey trousers and buckled shoes. Baz would say he looked like the glittering night sky or something. Simon thought he just looked silly.

A knock at the door jolted Simon from his thoughts. He nearly ripped his button off in frantic flailing. “Uh, who is it?”

“It’s me, Simon.” David’s stern voice was unmistakable even through the thick wooden door.

Simon straightened his coat, pushed his hair back, and tried to ignore how dry his mouth had become with nervousness. “C-Come in.”

David stepped in, grand green cape trailing behind him. He was wearing his full ensemble tonight. Cape, gold embroidered tunic, and official crown. It was an intricate, magically made designed piece of metalwork. Golden vines wound upwards and around his head, inlaid with bright green gems and topped off with a red feather on the left side. He held his head high, shoulders back. The perfect picture of a king. Not for much longer though. Simon felt bad for moment. Until he remembered Philippa, and Canterbury, and those forlorn faces in the procession.

“Good evening, sir,” Simon said, hiding his shaking fingers behind his back.

“Good evening, Simon,” he replied. “Are you ready for the ball?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so. I-I put on the grey suit you wanted...”

David’s eyes swept over Simon from his feet to the top of his unruly hair. “Yes, I can see that.”

“So, I’m ready.”

“Hm, not quite.”

Simon frowned, looking down at himself for any flaws. “What? But I-”

“Here.” Simon looked back up. David held a beautiful carved wooden box in his hands. He slowly lifted the lid, and Simon’s eyes went wide. “You have to wear this.”

It was a crown similar to David’s, made from gold and deep emeralds. The vines reached up and twisted, like they were made to be put in front of Simon’s curls. And right in the centre sat a large violet gem. It was the colour of the Mage’s School uniforms. Simon remembered off handedly mentioning once that he liked the colour a lot. So David was listening for once. It was heartwarming. Simon almost felt bad that he was about to lose his throne. Almost.

“Oh,” Simon squeaked, “wow. This is...wow.”

“A crown prince deserves a proper crown,” David said grandly. “I thought it would be right to debut it tonight, along with your future Queen.”

Simon hoped his gulp wasn’t too obvious. It took every ounce of his strength to not jump out of his skin. “Right, right. Thank you...father.”

David nodded stiffly. “You’re welcome, Simon. Put it on, we have to get downstairs.

“O-Okay.” Simon carefully lifted the crown from the box. It was strangely warm for something made of metal. He ran his thumb over the delicate vines and leaves. It was beautiful, but Simon knew it wasn’t for him. Maybe he’d give it to Baz later. Until then, he would just have to grin and bare it. Slowly, he put on the crown. The warmth encircled his whole head, radiating through his body. It felt good on sitting on Simon. Maybe he would actually keep it afterwards. Do prince’s...lovers (he still didn't like that word) get crowns? He hoped so.

“How does it feel, Simon?” David asked.

“Good,” Simon replied, mouth stretching into a wide grin. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It certainly works for you.” David said. “Let’s get going.”

Simon nodded. He followed behind the King, still smiling, looking forward to walking into the ballroom with his crowned head held high.

The castle ballroom was grand on any day, but tonight, it was especially awe inspiring. Twenty musicians played a haunting tune that floated through the air like a summer breeze. Large gold tables were covered in the fanciest hor d'oeuvres. The high vaulted ceiling was decorated in magical fairy lights, like glittering snow or far away stars. Everything was so pretty and vibrant. It was like a dream.

Anyone who was anyone from every corner of the kingdom was here tonight, dressed in their finest silks. Simon recognised a few from council meetings and Mage’s School. Trixie and Kerys were giggling together. Obviously their relationship was still going strong. Gareth and Rhys sat in the corner, having a champagne drinking competition. Miss Possibelf was discussing something with fellow teachers. Lord and Lady Wellbelove made the rounds and talked to everyone they could. Simon didn’t know if they were drumming up support because they were breaking off the engagement or staying part of it. He hoped it was the former. Especially since a certain someone was here, even if Simon hadn’t seen him yet.

“Announcing,” Premal, already waiting in the doorway, said, “his majesty, King David Owens of Watford. And his royal highness, Crown Prince Simon Owens of Watford.”

Everyone turned to them with varying expressions, ranging from polite smiles to barely disguised contempt. Simon tried to school his face. He didn’t want to seem too nervous, even though his eyes were darting around.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” David said. “We’re incredibly grateful for your presence and your part in our fair kingdom. Please, eat, drink, and be merry.”

They all clapped softly, the way most nobility did. Simon followed David as they ascended the dais and took their thrones. David’s was plush, while Simon’s was smaller and much less cushioned. He wondered if it was a prince’s duty to be uncomfortable. He couldn’t wait to be rid of it.

Some of the guests went back to milling about, while others approached the twin thrones. Lords and Ladies of the court took turns bowing to them, thanking the King for his gracious invitation and even more gracious rule. Simon wasn’t great at picking up sarcasm (unless it was Penny or Baz), but he swore heard touches of it in people’s voices. And their expressions looked particularly forced. Maybe the Staintons weren’t the only ones affected by David’s policies.

Speak of the Devil, the Staintons were approaching. Philippa looked incredible in her pale blue gown. Her eyes met Simon, and she mouthed “hi”. He grinned back. It was good to know he had more than one friend here. Their parents spoke briefly, words emotionless and professional, then she was being carted away. Simon mouthed, “talk later”. Philippa nodded in reply.

Just behind them was none other than the Bunces, save for Premal. Martin and Mitali were in old but very beautiful attire, as were their children. Simon had to school his expression when he saw Penelope. He was so happy to see her. He needed her tonight more than ever. Their eyes met, and Simon knew she was struggling not to smile as well.

“Good evening, your majesty,” Mitali said, bowing down. “Thank you for inviting us to this grand affair.”

“We at the court want to honour our teachers,” David said. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Thank you, your majesty.”

They all turned to leave. But Simon wanted to speak with Penny, he had to. He turned to David very properly. “Um, Father, would it be possible for me to go onto the floor? I could go...make connections...”

Simon almost groaned at his own flimsy excuse. But surprisingly, David didn’t even hesitate. He just waved his hand and nodded. “Yes, good idea. Just come back later.”

“Thank you, father!” He jumped from the throne, then practically leaped down the steps. He was just so excited to get out there. Go find Penny first, then maybe Agatha and Philippa, then hopefully Baz. He should be here soon. But first, Penelope.

“Pen, hey, Pen!” He called out.

Penelope turned her head, and she was already smiling. “Hello, your highness.”

Simon rolled his eyes as he pulled her into a hug. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Well, that’s not very princely speak.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “but I won’t be a prince much longer, so whatever.”

Penelope pulled back sharply. Her eyes were extremely wide behind her spectacles. “What does that mean?”

Simon grinned ear to ear, squeezing Penny’s shoulders. “It means, there’s a certain someone here tonight. And after I say a certain something to the world, he’s going to gladly take my place as heir to the throne.”

She gasped so loud the whole ballroom may hear her. “Oh Gods, he’s here?!”

“Yeah, somewhere. He’s in the same thing he wore to the solstice festival. I haven’t seen him yet, have you?”

“No, definitely haven’t seen a lanky boy in a silver feather suit. But I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

“Awesome. Thanks, Pen. I-”

Simon froze. Something wavy and black over Penny’s shoulder caught his eye. He craned his neck as much as possible. And he saw a flash of silver too.

“Nevermind, Pen,” he said. “I think I’ve found who I’m looking for.”

Penelope turned her head, looking where Simon’s eyes were focused; On a long, lean back, covered in black fabric and silver feathers.

“He made it,” Simon sighed.

“What?” Penny said. “Simon, what are you-”

“I’ll talk to you later, Pen, okay?”

“Simon-”

“Bye!”

He speed walked over towards him. He was surrounded by a group of girls, probably fawning over him. Simon felt horrible jealousy spread in his heart like blood in water, even though he knew that boy only had eyes for him. But he trusted Baz, and he would be polite. So instead, Simon tapped his shoulder.

Baz turned around, and Simon was met with deep sea eyes and cheekbones sharper than a sword.

———————————————

Baz awoke in darkness. It took awhile for his eyes to adjust to the slight moonlight coming in through the window. He blinked slowly until everything came into focus.

He was on the floor of somewhere small and made of dark wood. It looked like his cottage, but bigger. There was a proper desk, a bookshelf, and some chairs. Books and scrolls were spread out across the desk. Some were stamped with a weird looking cross. Baz recognised it from some of the books the man brought him. This had to be his house. He had brought Baz to his own home.

Baz stood up and groaned. But it came out as a honk. He looked down at himself, and confirmed what he already knew. He was in swan form, with his stupid black feathers and stupid long neck and stupid wings- Wait, I have wings, Baz thought. For once, the annoying, tiring things could actually be useful. Baz stretched them and flapped as hard as he could. He soared up and up, until he was sharply tugged back to earth.

“Honk!” he yelled, hitting the ground with painful thwack. He weakly turned his head and saw exactly what he feared. A small but thick link of chains connected his webbed foot to the ground. Baz was trapped. And he could only wonder what Simon was doing at the ball right now.

———————————————

“Excuse me,” Simon said as he offered his hand, “may I have this dance?”

Baz’s eyes were very wide, and he even took a step back. Simon assumed he just caught him off guard. Maybe he wasn’t expecting Simon to find him so soon, or so late, depending on how long Simon hadn’t seen him. Simon hoped he hadn’t been waiting long.

“Oh,” Baz squeaked. “You...want to dance?”

“Of course. It’s a ball, and I want to ask the prettiest person in the room to dance.” The girls gasped and giggled, hiding behind their fans. Baz still looked distressed, his face all stretched out and eyes bigger than saucer plates. Simon didn’t want him to be nervous. He stepped closer, and Baz leaned back, but didn’t step away. “C’mon, one dance. Then I’ll make the announcement.”

Baz’s brows pulled together. “Announcement? What? I thought-”

“Don’t worry,” Simon sighed, taking Baz’s hand. “We have time. We can dance first. I’ve been waiting to dance with you again for ages.”

He dragged Baz through the crowd. They parted for Simon, making a corridor towards the musicians. The floor was open for them to start the dancing. Simon turned, facing Baz, and tugged him forward. Baz stumbled until they were as close as they had been at the solstice festival. Simon could feel how tense Baz was. He had to be freaked out by everyone watching them. The solstice festival was hard enough, and he was behind a mask. Now his face was out there for everyone. Simon wondered if Lord Grimm or Lady Pitch were watching. He wondered if Baz looked familiar to them.

Simon pulled Baz to him, making the boy stumble into his arms. He heard mumbles and whispers from the people of the court, which he expected. They probably all expected the Prince to dancing with a lady. Not some mysterious bloke in a black and silver feather suit. Even David was watching. His face was stone, but surprisingly not angry. Simon didn’t care. All he could see was Baz, who looked like a dream tonight.

He put one hand on Baz’s shoulder, and grabbed his palm with the other. Their chests were almost pressed together. Baz’s eyes were still wide and nervous. Simon hoped to make that expression go away.

“Let’s dance,” Simon said.

———————————————

Baz had no idea what to do. The chain was strong and showed no signs of budging. No matter how fast Baz flew, he couldn’t escape it. Whatever the man had done, he’d made sure Baz couldn’t escape. Well, that was what he promised, the stupid wanker.

Baz was sprawled out on the wooden floor, wings spread out like he’d hit a window. It felt hopeless. He was stuck here, as a swan, while Simon was Gods know where. The man had promised Simon wouldn’t be able to break the curse. Baz felt a cold stab of dread in his heart when he thought about what that that meant. He hoped it wasn’t like in Swan Lake. He hoped Simon would notice it wasn’t him.

Whatever Simon was doing, it didn’t matter. Baz was stuck here. And wherever this was, it wasn’t where Simon was. Part of Baz wanted to lay on this cold floor forever, resigned to his fate, accepting that his hope was snuffed out like the tiny weak candle it was. Of course he’d never be free. Life was never that kind to him. It was stupid to think he could have all the things Simon promised him.

Simon...

Baz closed his eyes, and he saw so much more than this stupid cottage. He saw a smile so bright it rivaled the sun. He saw freckles and moles that looked like his beloved stars. He saw blue eyes, bronze curls. Simon Snow. The incredible boy who had stolen his heart and given him hope for the first time in his dreary life. Baz could almost hear his beautiful voice from that fateful night, when Baz had set the world on fire.

I’ve never turned my back on you before. I’m not starting now.

Simon had saved him that night, in more ways than one. Simon hadn’t given up on him then, and wouldn’t want Baz to give up on himself now. He would tell Baz to fight for what he wanted. And fight Baz would.

He raised himself up again and looked around the room. The cloaked man kept a lot of weird random shit. Flasks, books, crates, but none of it seem useful for breaking a chain. Nothing short of Simon’s sword could probably break it. Or Baz’s fire, that would work too. He would need a wand for that, which was currently under his pillow back at the lake. If only...

Baz’s eye caught something. It was long and white with black at the end. A wand, sitting at the top of the bookshelf. All Baz had to do was fly up, and he was going to damn well try.

———————————————

Simon wondered if the Solstice Festival truly was a single fluke. Maybe there truly was magic in the air that night. Because he and Baz were dancing, but it wasn’t nearly as smooth as it was that night. They kept falling out of rhythm and Simon stepped on his toes quite a bit.

“Ow,” Baz hissed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Simon said, pulling back. “We were better last time, huh?”

“Were we?”

Simon rolled his eyes, somewhat tempted to kick Baz in the shin even at this oh so momentous of nights. “Yeah yeah, shut up and be formal.”

Strangely, Baz looked genuinely concerned. “But...we weren’t that good last time. Remember?”

“Uh, I didn’t think we were that bad. Thought we were pretty good...”

“If you think so.”

Simon’s mouth opened, then quickly closed. This was odd. Where was Baz’s sarcastic edge? The back and forth that characterized their entire relationship? Maybe he was too nervous for banter. Simon couldn’t blame him. This was beyond nerve wracking.

They were still sort of moving, stepping in a tiny square. Baz was looking down at the marble floor. Simon brought their joined hands to knock up his chin until their eyes met. Baz’s incredible grey eyes. He looked especially pretty tonight, like a glowing sun surrounded his head, blurring everything around him with his light.

“It’s okay,” Simon whispered. “Don’t be nervous, it’ll be okay. It’s all going to be fine. Tonight’s our night.”

Baz looked even more perplexed. Simon guessed he was about to ask some inane question made from nerves, not a genuine concern. So Simon pulled him across the dance floor, guiding them with their hands, moving so fast Baz wouldn’t have time to be worried. All he’d be able to think was them, together.

———————————————

The cottage was filled with strained, stressed honks as Baz tried to reach the top of the shelf. Why did he have to put it all the way up there? Baz whined internally. If he had a half inch more of chain, he could reach it. He fell to the floor for the fifth time, wheezing as much as his small swan lungs could. At this rate, by the time he got the wand, he’d be too tired to fly all the way to Simon. Why couldn’t that thing just be a bit lower? Better yet, why couldn’t it be on the floor?

Simon always liked to bash into things as hard as he could. Maybe Baz needed to take a page from his book.

He flew upwards again, but this time only to just above the middle. He pulled back as far as the chain would let him and took a deep breath. For Simon, he thought. Then Baz hurled himself forward as hard he could, hitting the shelf with the side of his wing. Pain shot through his entire being. Sensations as a swan were always strange, but getting hurt was the worst. It seemed having a smaller body made pain more concentrated. Baz winced. He wanted to stop, but he wanted to see Simon more.

Baz threw himself at the shelf again harder. It rocked back then forward again. The wand rolled but didn’t fall. Baz let out a frustrated honk and tried again, even harder, so hard he feared his wing was broken. Come on, come on, he thought, just fucking fall. He looked at the shelf, filled with righteous determination, and flew as fast as he could. He ignored the shooting pain as he hit the shelf, because all he could think of was getting to Simon.

With a long breath, Baz collapsed on the ground, head resting on the floor. He couldn’t do that again. He would break his wing and be unable to fly if he did that again. Fuck, hopefully-

Thunk. Baz opened his eyes, and his gaze was met with ivory and black leather. Oh thank every stupid God, Baz thought. He dragged himself forward and put his wing over the wand until he realised that he couldn’t pick it up. Baz’s deep seated hatred for his swan form somehow got even more deep seated.

Instead of his wing, Baz went with a different option. He grabbed the ivory stick with his tiny swan mouth as he sat up. He couldn’t say a spell now of course, but he could try to recreate that night, when fire manifested from the wand just by thinking. Fire was always easiest for him, almost as natural as breathing. Baz was still a mage, even as a swan. At least he should be.

Baz closed his eyes, pointed the wand at his chain, and pictured fire building in his body, slowly pushing it towards the wand. But the fire didn’t even need to build. It pulled towards the wands like a magnet. Baz liked Simon’s wand, but this one was a tailored glove. He could control it far better. The fire came out in a perfect steady stream, hitting his shackle lock dead on. The metal went from dark grey, to orange, to bright red. It drooped and slowly melted onto the ground. Soon enough, what was once a lock was a puddle, and Baz dropped the wand, the fire ceasing. He thrashed his foot around violently until the latch came undone. And just like that, Baz was free.

He flew up to the window above the desk. It was slightly ajar. With one shove from his beak, the pane flew open, and Baz was out. He zoomed out and up into the night sky. Baz took in his surroundings. He was on some sort of hill on the edge of a forest. It looked like his forest, and Baz knew how to navigate his forest, thankfully. He looked to the west and saw what he was looking for. It was barely a speck from here, but Baz knew it was actually the castle, where Simon was. He briefly thought about changing first, but he’d get there faster on wings. And he had no time to waste.

Baz flapped his wings as hard as possible, and soared towards the castle. Towards Simon.

———————————————

In took awhile, but Simon finally found a rhythm with Baz. It was shaky but it was there. They didn’t soar across the floor like before, but they did move easily. Other people had joined them on the dance floor too, thankfully, so it was less awkward. Trixie and Keris were happily swanning about. Lord and Lady Stainton were having a grand old time together. They were obviously expert dancers. Some of the younger kids were dancing with their parents or each other. It was fun. Though, Penelope was still to the side, arms crossed over her chest and looking really concerned. She’d gestured Simon a few times to come over, but Simon didn’t want to. He liked dancing with Baz. He barely noticed her after a while.

The song changed to something slower, more subdued. Simon slowed down, and Baz did as well. They weren’t really dancing even. They just sort of...swayed. And it all felt perfect.

Simon sighed, squeezing Baz’s hand. “This is great, innit?” he asked quietly.

“I suppose...” Baz said, a bit more cautious than Simon would have liked.

“C’mon,” Simon said, pulling Baz closer, “try to have fun. Just because we’re gonna do something serious doesn’t mean we can’t have fun first.”

Baz’s brows furrowed, mouth pulling into a frown. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Simon frowned back even harder. “What do you mean what am I talking about? Have you forgotten the plan already?” He shook his head. “Nevermind, let’s just finish this song.”

Simon pressed closer, leaning on Baz’s shoulder. He was surprised how soft Baz felt. The embroidery on the suit was supposed to be pretty rough. Simon didn’t care. All he could think about was being close to Baz right now. Just like how they would be forever soon.

“Simon,” Baz whispered, close to his ear. Simon just hummed and closed his eyes, wanting to sink into the feeling. “Simon, listen to me.”

“What?” Simon grumbled.

“Simon, I have no clue why, but I think you think I’m him. I’m not him.”

Simon’s head bolted up. His heart was thumping a mile a minute. He looked at Baz. His mouth was all pinched in concerned, but his eyes were wide. Simon couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What? What are you on about?” he hissed in reply.

Baz leaned closer, their faces a breath apart. “Simon, I don’t know his name, but whoever he is, I’m not him. You obviously think I am and I don’t know why, but I’m not. Do you understand? I’m not who you want.”

Quickly, Simon stepped back, though their hands were still joined. He looked over Baz, examining his face. His sharp cheekbones, his soft black hair, his grey eyes. He looked perfect. Actually...almost too perfect. He was practically fucking glowing. Normal people didn’t glow. Why hadn’t Simon noticed that before? He squeezed Baz’s hand, and his skin wasn’t rough. Baz’s hands were always rough. And though he saw it on Baz’s bony digit, Simon didn’t feel the cool metal of his gold signet ring. Simon looked closer at Baz’s face. For a moment, just one moment, he swore Baz’s eyes flickered into a different colour. From deep sea grey to golden brown.

Simon stepped further away very quickly. He blinked rapidly. Baz was glowing, very brightly, truly blurring the world around him. Every part of Simon was telling him not to look but he refused to turn away. Why couldn’t he look at it? Why was Baz looking so damn perfect but acting so weird? Fucking hell, why was Simon's head so hot?

It hit him like a ton of bricks. He ripped the crown from his head and threw it to the ground. It hit the marble with a loud crash. The crown was making a high pitched whine, which slowly died away, along with a glow in the purple gem.

Simon looked up again. The glow was gone. The ballroom was still pretty, but didn’t look like a dream anymore. And standing in front of Simon wasn’t Baz. It was Agatha, dressed in a lovely pink gown, eyes wide and looking extremely concerned. Simon’s eyes swept around the ballroom. Everyone looked very concerned. Considering the prince just threw his own crown to the floor, it was a natural reaction. Simon’s gaze eventually fell to the dais, to David. He didn’t look like everyone else though. If Simon was a betting man, he’d say the King looked scared.

And everything slid into place. Everything just made sense. Like puzzle pieces, or books fitting perfectly on a shelf, or something else like that. All the questions that Simon had never bothered to ask, too focused on just getting Baz free, ran through his brain.

Who stood to benefit the most from Queen Natasha dying and Baz disappearing?

Who was powerful enough to cast such a complicated curse?

Who would want Simon to declare his undying love to the wrong person?

Who had given Simon a crown that made him think Agatha was Baz?

It all made so much sense. Simon’s stomach dropped to the floor, muscles shaking. He and David were locked in the staring contest. He wanted to scream “why?!” in front of everyone, force David to explain himself in front of the entire damn court. But all he could do breathe harshly through his nose, nails almost piercing the flesh of his palm. Everything, all of this suffering, was all because of him.

“Simon...” Penelope’s voice said from next to him. He must’ve not heard her approach in his blinding rage. She tugged lightly on his sleeve. “Si, look out the window, behind us,” she whispered.

Simon looked at her. She cautiously pointed over her shoulder. He whipped his head around, looking up towards the large window. It was hard to see in the dark, but Simon caught a flash of orange and a glint of silver. There was a slight tap, tap, tap noise. Though it was hard from a distant, Simon finally met his eyes. Simon’s lips fell open. Baz, the real Baz, was flying right outside the castle. Gods know where he was before.

“Oh gods,” he finally said.

Baz turned and flew away back into the night. Suddenly, the crowd started simmering with murmurs and contained gasps. Simon whipped around. His blood started boiling. The dais was empty. David was gone.

“Fucking hell,” Simon hissed. “Baz is going to the lake and David’s following him”

“You think?” Penny asked, still standing next to him after everything.

“Definitely. Baz is going to want to be human again and David’s going to try to get there before him.” He turned to her, gripping both her shoulders tight. “Pen, do you think you and Agatha can keep everyone here calm while I go? I-I need to go help-”

Penny gripped his hand back. “Yeah, of course. We can do crowd control. You need to get there quickly, and maybe pick up a weapon.”

Simon nodded rapidly. “Yeah, yeah, definitely. Uh...” He remembered that his sword was all the way in the other wing of the castle. He swept over the crowd, until he saw pale blue. He ran impossibly quick towards her, Penny behind him, until he was gripping Philippa’s shoulder. “Philippa, did you bring your sword?”

“Um, yeah. Simon, what’s going on? Where’s the king gone?”

“Long story. Penny can tell you and Agatha the short version. Did you bring your sword?!”

“Yes, yes! It’s still on my horse. My parents wouldn’t let me bring it in.”

Simon let out a long breath. “Can I borrow them? The horse and the sword? I’ll bring them back, and I have a good reason, I promise.”

Philippa scanned him over. Simon wondered if she was checking him for mental issues. He only hoped she trusted him enough to not question. And when she nodded, he let out a sigh of relief. “Alright. My horse is the white mare with the black saddle bags.”

Simon hugged her so hard his own arms hurt. “Thank you so much, you have no idea what this means.”

“Yeah, I don’t,” Philippa chuckled. “But I trust you have some noble reason. So get going.”

“Right right.” Simon pulled away and turned on his heels. Agatha and Penelope were right behind him. He quickly hugged them both at the same time. “Thanks to you two as well, for everything. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

They squeezed Simon back, then Simon had to break away. He let his friends go and dashed out the doors. He could hear the murmurs turn into shouts behind him. But soon those were drowned out by three very strong women who were not having any sort of panic right now. Simon grinned to himself, but made sure to keep running. He flew across the stone floors, letting the grey walls become mere blurs. At the same time, he ripped off his restrictive clothes. Gone were his embroidered jacket, his cuffs, even his fancy shoes. He arrived at the stables only in socks and took just enough time to grab a pair of riding boots that looked like they fit.

Philippa’s mare was luckily quite nearby. She whinnied and bucked away from Simon at first. He approached her with an outstretched hand, shushing her until she finally calmed down. But when he tried to mount her, she panicked all over again.

“Come on,” Simon groaned. “I don’t have time for this.” No matter what he did, the mare kept bucking away. “Oh, fuck this.”

Simon pulled out the sword, not even bothering with the sheath, and ran out onto the great lawn. He was running out of time. No doubt David was riding on his damn cloud to Baz already. Simon needed to get there soon. He needed to be there now. If only he was like Baz, the wind carrying him where he needed to go.

A pain shot through Simon’s back. He seized up and fell to his knees on the grass. There was the sound of fabric ripping. It was hard to tell through all the pain, but Simon swore he felt something...growing from there. When he opened his squeezed eyes again, his jaw dropped. The moonlight and castle torches illuminated his back. And along with his normal shadow was the silhouette of two enormous wings. Simon turned his head, and there they were. Real, honest to the gods wings. They were large and made from pitch black feathers. Simon barely felt their weight, but when he flexed his shoulders they flapped.

“Okay,” Simon panted. “I can work with this.”

He closed his eyes, and pictured himself flying upwards. Before he knew it, Simon was soaring through the sky. The wings flapped so hard the air roared in his ears. The houses were tiny beneath him and the people were barely ants. He honestly didn’t understand what he was doing, but he didn’t care. All Simon cared about was getting to Baz as soon as possible. And when he saw the edges of the Forbidden Lands, he flew faster.

———————————————

Baz had never flown so fast in his entire life. He was used to a leisurely pace, gliding around or above people. Now he was flapping as hard as he could, so much his wings hurt.

Simon had been dancing with that blonde girl with a sort of dazed, dreamy expression. The way he sometimes looked Baz. Baz had tapped the glass all he could and Simon didn’t hear a thing. He had almost left, heartbroken and resigned to his fate.

But then Simon had tossed that crown off so dramatically, looked to the King, then finally to him. And that look in his eye said it all. Simon was unbelievably shocked to see him. Just shocked, not angry or even guilty. It gave Baz the tiniest glimmer of hope. Hope that there Simon was still able to break the curse. So he needed to go to that damn lake then get back to that castle. Baz didn’t know how the curse worked exactly, but he absolutely wanted to be stuck as a human. He wasn’t taking any chances.

Before he knew it, Baz arrived at his stupid lake. He nosedived towards the water. Baz had never transformed in motion before. It was very strange. He spread his wings to slow himself down, but soon was flapping his arms like an idiot. Instead of honking he was panting, and treading little webbed feet became toes pounding against the pond floor. Baz barely even noticed the pain of changing he was so frantic. He splashed water every which way as he sprinted, scaring his poor swan friends. He’d apologize later.

Luckily, his clothes were still sitting in disarray on the ground. Baz threw on the tunic and trousers as he raced towards the cottage. He practically fell on top of his cot, throwing off the pillow, and he let out a long sigh of relief.

“Thank the gods,” he whispered, snatching the wand and going back towards the door.

Baz knew exactly what he was going to do. The plan was crystal clear in his mind; Use the wand to levitate up, run as fast as he could to the castle, and get to Simon. They needed to stand up in front of those nobles as Simon declared his feelings, before the man found out. He needed to get there now and-

Just as Baz stepped out the door, he froze in place. There, right in front of him, stood the King of Watford himself. He looked far less disheveled at the ball though. Now his cape was torn up, crown askew, a furious sort of look in his eyes. There was a sword in one of his hands and a wand in the other. It became so clear in an instant. Baz held his head high to mask his fear.

“Hello, sir,” he said as smoothly as possible. “I got out of the chains.”

“I can see that,” David growled. His eyes flicked down to Baz’s wand. “And I see Simon did more than promise to break your curse.”

Baz clutched the wand tighter. “Yes, he did. And he found out who I am too. So, I’m guessing you started the castle fire, killed the Queen, and made everyone think I was dead so you could to take the throne.”

David scowled even deeper. “It’s not that simple.”

“Oh? What other reason would you have? A fun little prank?” Baz stepped forward with shoulders still squared. “You murdered my mother in cold blood, ripped me away from my family, and cursed me for six fucking years. All for some goddamn crown.”

“No!” David barked. “It’s not like that! It’s-” He sighed, and it quickly became a low, almost menacing chuckle. “What am I doing? I don’t have to explain myself to you. You’re just an arrogant brat, even worse than your mother.” He flicked up his wand. “I could try to mess with your memory, like I did after the fire and to Vera when I let her go. But there’s a lot to erase now, I suppose.” He raised his sword next, a menacing grin on his face. “Or, I could just dispense myself of your troublesome behind. And I think you’ve outlived your usefulness, Basil.”

Baz felt all his confidence drain out of him in an instant, along with all the blood in his face. His arm shot up. “Infer-”

David smacked it out of his with one hit of his sword pommel. The wand sputtered out a few useless sparks on the the grass. Baz stepped away, and David stepped closer. He slipped his wand into his cape and grasped his sword with both hands. The steel glinted in the floating lights.

“Goodbye, Basilton,” David said. “Tell her majesty I say hello.”

“No!”

A loud thunk made Baz turn his head. There he was on the roof of his cottage he stood, with a tattered silk shirt, huge black feathered wings, and a longsword that wasn’t his own in hand. He looked like a god, or maybe a demon. Either way, he looked like a force to be reckoned with.

“Simon,” David said, almost sounding exasperated. “Good evening, son.”

———————————————

AN: Oh boy, shit is getting real my dudes. Personally I loved switching between Simon and Baz's perspectives. It was so much fun. Also I know it's no big surprise Davy was behind all this. That wasn't really meant to be a twist for the reader tbh, more a twist for Simon himself. Like it says, he was so focused on just getting Baz free he didn't consider why Baz was taken in the first place, and Baz got caught up in it too. So yeah, this is me over explaining again lol. Next time, there's gonna be a rumble toniiiight! (Yes I'm a musical theatre nerd and West Side Story is the best). Chapter 16 will be posted next Monday :)

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #agatha wellbelove #the mage #fluff #angst #fantasy au #The Black Swan #mysnowbazfic

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