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Chapter Text

The kingdom of Nibelheim has had many balls in the several years since Crown Prince Cloud of Nibelheim came of age for marriage. His mother, widowed when Cloud was just a boy, has been searching desperately for a match ever since. 

Cloud knows she means well, she wants what’s best for the kingdom, caring for each citizen as if every one of them were her own child. That care, unfortunately, leaves Cloud feeling left out. Her actual son left feeling as though she cares for him less than she does for every other citizen. 

His getting married isn’t about his happiness, it’s about the good of the kingdom . 

He knows that the kingdom is important , that one day he will be king, and he has to care about the citizens and blah blah blah. He knows of that, he really does. But he wishes he could find a spouse in his own time, and he really, really wishes that spouse didn’t have to be a bride . 

And Cloud had, in all honesty, simply grown bored of the long line of suitors his mother had found for him. He knows the importance of finding a spouse, a wife, and continuing the royal line, but it bored him to tears. 

At some point, he had made it into a game, just to keep himself entertained. He knew it may sound cruel to play games with the feelings of these women, but they all knew that the prince of Nibelheim really had no interest in suitors, especially not in princesses and ladies. It’d become quite a popular topic of gossip across the seven kingdoms. 

Cloud’s game was simple, really. And in his opinion, it caused no harm. He would see how long he could be unbearable for before the suitor stormed off, test how determined they were, and just how far he could push himself to push their buttons.

Today’s ball has been going quite well, Cloud was having a great time, honestly. His valet had dressed him in a deep blue suit, the color of Nibel mountains at dawn, and he’d headed down to the ball just to be immediately introduced to another princess from the kingdom of Mideel, some cousin of the king, Cloud doesn’t really care. 

It takes a mere three sentences for her to walk off with a huff and a stomp, her heels clacking against the polished flooring and her dress swooshing side to side off her hips. 

The next two ladies follow a similar pattern, and by this point Cloud is enjoying himself a lot . As much as he can at one of these events, that is. 

After the third woman walks off, Cloud is left to enjoy a few refreshments, some drinks, and a couple of finger sandwiches, completely unbothered for at least half an hour. The most peaceful thirty minutes he’s had at a ball since he came of age. However, just as he’s starting to think that maybe, just maybe , his mother may give up on this whole marriage thing, at least for the night, Lady Elena of Midgar shows up. 

Now, Cloud’s never spoken to her before, or else she wouldn’t be here in front of him, but her reputation precedes her. Almost as much as Cloud’s does himself. She’s bratty and rude and tough , Cloud’s perfect rival, he’s shocked it’s taken his mother this long to try and introduce them. 

“Hello, Your Highness, ” Elena introduces herself, rolling her eyes as she spits out Cloud’s title. Cloud nearly barks out a laugh, she seems to want to be here less than he does.

“Hey,” he responds, purposefully forgoing all formalities.

She stares at him, expecting more, brows furrowing further the longer the silence stretches on. “Oh, I see how it is,” she says, “You think cause you’re the prince of this place you don’t have to use my title? You’re a real ass, you know that?” She props her hands on her hips, cocking one to the side. 

Cloud raises his brows, “I don’t know who you are,” he lies, “Apologies for not knowing your title…” he trails off, waving his hand toward her, inviting her to fill in the gap, and introduce herself.

She scoffs, “ My name is Lady Elena,” she points to her chest, glowering, “I expect you to use my title.”

“Oh,” he says, snapping his fingers as if the introduction suddenly jogs his memory, “Of course, I’ve heard such great things about you,” he lies, “you’re the one who had to be rescued from the outskirts of Kalm because your carriage broke down, correct? Or was it because your servants had found you so… irksome , that they had kicked you out? I’ve heard a few variations of it. Though after this conversation I think I feel drawn to believe the latter version.”

Elena’s mouth gapes and her eyebrows knit together, “Oh, you little shit-stain, you’re lucky we’re in the middle of your castle right now, or else I’d rip you a new one, you rotten little—”

She doesn’t get to continue before a man in a fine, black suit with equally dark, hair and a mole in the center of his forehead strides toward them, pulling Elena away wordlessly. 

Cloud stares after her as she leaves, shaking his head and laughing as she continues to mouth off at the man pulling her away. He’s one of her people, a special member of the royal guard from Midgar. The man’s reaction to her rambling leads Cloud to believe that he’s probably used to outbursts from her. 

Guilt twists in Cloud’s gut for a moment. As entertaining as Elena’s reaction was, and it was entertaining, perhaps the best reaction he’s gotten to his game thus far, he feels terrible for her guard. It’s not as if he even lied about what he’s heard, Elena has quite the reputation when it comes to how to speak to anyone outside the royal family. Guilt swarms his gut at the thought of what the poor guard may have to deal with in the aftermath of Cloud’s game. 

Cloud chews his lip, blowing a heavy breath as he returns to the floor, banishing the thought from his head. The guards are paid for this, and surely dealing with a mouthy lady is better than some of the more grueling things guards have to do, like protecting the prince from assassination attempts by would-be usurpers, or whatever else it is that the kingdom of Midgar is going through now. 

It’s not even five minutes more before another lady approaches Cloud, he immediately sighs, readying himself for another string of insults or insolence. However, he doesn’t recognize the woman, not her lovely chestnut hair, tied into a simple updo, nor the style of her simplistic pink dress. She’s pretty, Cloud thinks, objectively speaking. 

“Hiya, prince,” she introduces herself, bouncing on her heels. Cloud notices she’s wearing thick working boots as opposed to the thin, heeled boots typical of women’s formal wear. Her style and nonchalance immediately intrigue him. “My name’s Aerith,” she sticks out her hand, ready to shake.

“Hello, Aerith,” he answers dryly, shaking her hand weakly, “Do you have a title?”

“Nope,” she answers, smiling and popping the p , “just Aerith.” She tucks her hands behind her back and tilts her head at Cloud as if studying him.

For the first time, Cloud is knocked off his game, he doesn’t know what to say. 

“Well… Aerith ,” he begins once he’s found his words, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, just wanted to say hi,” she explains, “I’m kinda sorta from Gongaga, and my friend wants to meet you but he’s a bit busy at the moment, so I wanted to introduce myself before he got here. As his best friend I have to make sure you’re not, like, a jerk. You know, reconnaissance.”

Cloud presses his lips together, frowning, “‘Sort of’ from Gongaga?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, nodding enthusiastically, “moved there when I was a kid, but I was born in Icicle, then lived in Midgar for a bit, then in Gongaga and I’ve been there ever since. Well, until now, I guess.”

Cloud hums, nodding, “Where’s your friend, then?”

“He was over there,” she waves vaguely toward the front of the ballroom, “but he’s probably on his way here by now. You seem…” she looks at Cloud, squinting as if it would let her see him in greater detail, “good enough,” she settles on. 

Cloud frowns again, “Well, that’s the first I’ve ever heard that one.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head, Cloud thinks for a second time that she really is quite pretty. She has a soft, serene quality to her, something soothing even when she’s being rude or plain odd. 

“I’ve heard plenty about you, prince ,” she tells him, giggling, “some good,” she tilts her head, “some bad. I hear you can be quite abrasive, so I wanted to see for myself. I can tell you’re hiding, though.”

“Hiding?” he asks.

“Yourself,” she answers, as if that makes perfect sense. “I can tell your soul is… good. They just need to give you a chance,” she smiles, soft but with the slightest hint of something sad in her eyes like she truly knows something about Cloud that he doesn’t, something tragic, “and you need to give yourself the chance, too.” 

Before Cloud can ask further, Aerith cracks into a wide smile, jumping and waving to someone over his shoulder, he turns the slightest bit to see who’s walking toward them.

Cloud can barely believe his eyes at who this girl’s best friend is. 

Prince Zack of Gongaga. He’s dressed in deep green, the color of Gongagan jungles, or perhaps the color of the pines on Mt. Nibel, it could be the color of salmon for all Cloud knows at the moment. The prince’s black hair is slicked back, and his violet eyes crinkle as he waves back at Aerith.

“Zack!” she shouts, “come here!”

Prince Zack approaches the duo, smiling. Cloud, for the second time tonight, is left speechless. There must be something in the waters of Gongaga.

“Good evening, Your Royal Highness,” Prince Zack introduces, extending his hand to Cloud. 

Cloud waits a few beats too long before extending his own hand, shaking Zack’s much looser than he intends to, “Good evening, my prince,” Cloud nods his head slightly. He thinks this is the first time he’s used someone’s proper title tonight. 

Aerith clears her throat, and Cloud realizes he never let go of Zack’s hand. He releases it as if it were a hot stove, and looks at Aerith, who is looking back at both of them smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Well,” she says, “I should go. I’ve got business to attend to.” 

Cloud is fairly certain she’s lying, saying business so it sounds like whatever she’s doing is important and not something like eating hors d'oeuvres or drinking cider. He doesn’t care, either, he just nods silently as she slips away.

“So,” Prince Zack begins, “where were we?” 

Cloud looks at him again, and tries to breathe in through his nose as normally as he can. “Introductions, I believe.” He feels proud that his voice doesn’t crack, then feels embarrassed by the very thought, he’s a prince , not a pubescent boy. 

“Oh, of course,” Prince Zack smiles, “I am Prince Zack, of Gongaga.”

Cloud raises a brow, “Of course,” he says, “No need for that. As you know, I’m Prince Cloud, of Nibelheim. Or, I’d hope you know, seeing as you are in my home. No need for such… formalities. What should I call you, my prince?” The formalities feel foreign on his tongue, he’s not even sure why he’s keeping them up. Typically he wouldn’t bother, not unless he were talking to someone much older than him, but for some reason, he can’t stop himself from speaking so properly, desperate for a good impression.

“Just Zack is fine, my prince,” Zack responds, “and you?”

“You can call me Cloud,” Cloud tells him, “I really do not care for all the… rules and titles that come with royalty and lordship.”

“Same here,” Zack laughs, and it’s the sweetest sound Cloud has heard in his entire life. It reminds him of church bells and birdsong and his mother humming to him as a child when he was ill. He feels his chest warm, and before he can even think it through, he finds his mouth opening again. 

“Would you like to get out of here?” Cloud asks, “I can show you around the grounds. The gardens and some of the unrestricted areas of the castle?”

Zack smiles brightly, “I think I would like that very much.” 

Cloud swallows, willing himself not to faint at the sight, “This way then,” he extends his gloved hand for Zack to take, offering to lead. Zack takes his hand easily, gloved hands cupping around one another naturally. Cloud pauses for a moment to marvel at the feeling before setting off through a side door, slipping past his own guards easily. 

Chapter Text

Castle Strife's library has been among Cloud's favorite places in the castle for as long as he can remember. Even before his father died, Cloud loved the place. He fondly remembers getting lost in the maze of shelves that reached the ceiling, finding chairs to curl up in, and imagining he was someplace else. The feeling of being so small in such a vast place was comforting in a way he was sure not many related to. Nothing brought Cloud more peace than feeling small and ordinary, it has been his greatest wish since he realized he never wanted to fulfill his royal duties .

Of course, that means the library was the first place he brought Zack. Only a short hall separated the ballroom from the library, and so it made the most sense. 

Cloud dragged Zack through a few rows, through shelves he knew were left oft-untouched. Many of the books were dusty, their pages undisturbed for years. Here, he let go of Zack’s hand, dropping his own to his side. He breathes in, inhaling the smell of old yellowed paper exhibiting history he’d been learning since he was able to understand spoken word. 

He allowed himself to look up at the shelves, towering above both of them and sighed, his anxiety about sneaking away from another ball mollified as he allowed himself to feel insignificant. 

“Wow,” Zack breathes from beside him, “this place is huge.”

Cloud straightened, looking over at Zack again, “Are Gongaga’s libraries not as vast?” 

“No,” Zack shakes his head, “I think the humidity messes with the parchment, so we really only have recorded histories and documentation. You know, things like old birth and marriage certificates.”

Cloud nods, “My mother has always been a big reader and my father was more than glad to buy her as many books as she pleased. More than that, even.”

“It’s amazing,” Zack says, walking toward the shelves and touching the spines of several books, “do you have a favorite?”

Cloud instantly feels heat make home in his cheeks, and he chews his bottom lip. Does he have a favorite? He’s not so certain, as much as he loves the library he’s never been the biggest reader. He enjoys a book every so often, of course, but he much rather spend his time painting or doing swordwork with the knights. 

“I think,” Cloud begins, slipping through a few aisles, simply assuming Zack will follow, “It would have to be this one,” he reaches for an old cloth-bound book, something his father bought out at a village shop in Junon when he had left to visit their king ages ago. When he turns, Zack is only a pace behind him, and he hands the book to him delicately. 

“ A Collection of Tales ?” Zack reads the title questioningly, “That’s quite vague.”

Cloud chews his lip again, embarrassed, “Well,” he begins, “It’s from Junon, so the tales aren’t like ones we have here in Nibelheim, like Rapunzel or The Goose Girl, they’re entirely different. They focus a lot on animals and nature, not so much on faeries like the Nibel tales do. Of course, Nibel folklore is much darker than Junon’s, most of the stories end happily, and not with a child being eaten, like a lot of the stories here do.”

“Wait,” Zack says, lowering the book, “You have stories that end in children being eaten ? Most of them end that way?”

“Well,” Cloud corrects, “Not most , and those are more like cautionary tales. Like ‘don’t go on the mountain alone or a Wyrm might eat you’. Though, honestly, that’s barely a tale, I’ve heard there really are Wyrms up there. It’s more like… Rumpelstiltskin , where it’s just a lesson about not bragging or making bargains you cannot keep.”

“Rumpel… stilt.. skin?” Zack asks. 

“Ah,” Cloud breathes, turning back toward the shelves, he grabs a small leather bound book from a nearby shelf, “here, this is my favorite retelling of Rumpelstiltskin. Let’s sit.”

They wander to a nearby table, a small round one with two seats, sitting on opposite sides. Cloud sits the book on the table, and opens it, “It’s written in old Nibel, so I can’t read it aloud to you, but I’ll explain the story and show you the drawings, is that alright with you?” 

“Yeah,” Zack nods, smiling and setting the book of tales to the side. 

Cloud begins explaining the story, “So, in this kingdom, there was once a man who bragged that his daughter could spin straw into gold,” Cloud explained, pointing to the drawing of a man marching around town. 

“Could she really?” Zack asks. 

Cloud smiles, shaking his head, “No, she could not.”

“Oh no,” Zack gasps.

“Yeah, well, one day the king calls for the maiden and he locks her up. He demands that she spin all the straw in the room into gold or he’ll have her killed.” Cloud flips to the drawing of a girl locked in a room filled with straw and a spinning wheel.

Zack frowns, but nods.

“The girl tries her best, but spinning straw into gold isn’t possible without magic. So she gives up,” Cloud flips to a page filled with a similar drawing, but this time featuring an old, bearded imp-man dancing around the spinning wheel. “As soon as she does, an imp appears.” 

“That’s Rumplestiltskin?” Zack asks, pointing to the imp.

“Yeah,” Cloud tells him, “He tells her that he can spin the straw into gold for her. All she has to do is give him her necklace.”

“Is it a special necklace?” Zack asks.

“No,” Cloud tells him, “It’s just a pretty necklace, so she agrees. The next day,” Cloud flips to a page with a bigger room with more straw, the girl staring at it frowning as Rumplestiltskin stands behind her, “the king locks her in a room with even more straw, and tells her to do it again. Rumplestiltskin asks for her ring in payment for the task.”

“Is the ring special?” Zack asks again, “Like a wedding ring?”

Cloud laughs, “No, it’s just a ring, and so she agrees. The next day she’s locked away again. This time the king tells her if she succeeds he will marry her, and if she doesn’t he’ll kill her.”

Zack makes a face, “Sounds like a loss either way.”

Cloud laughs again, “Maybe, but becoming queen is like a dream for many people, I think. I mean, my mom was just a seamstress before her marriage to my dad, so she’d know, at least.”

Zack nods, humming, so Cloud continues.

“Anyway, when Rumplestiltskin arrives this time she tells him she has nothing left to trade,” He flips to a page of the woman pleading with the imp, “He tells her that she can pay with the life of her first child.”

“What?” Zack shouts, “I thought you said no babies get eaten in this story?”

“I never said that,” Cloud corrects, “But listen, you’ll like the end.”

Zack nods.

“Anyway,” Cloud tries to remember where he was, “Right, she eventually agrees, because she really doesn’t want to die, and so he spins the straw for her for a final time.” He flips to another page, a drawing of a wedding between the king and the woman, “The king keeps his promise, and he marries the woman. However, months pass and the queen has her first child.”

“Oh no,” Zack gasps.

Cloud nods, “Rumplestiltskin shows up to claim the child, but she begs him not to. She offers the kingdom's entire treasury in exchange for her keeping the child, but he doesn’t want any of her riches, he just wants the kid.”

“What a weirdo,” Zack wrinkles his nose.

Cloud nods, “He’s an imp,” he clears his throat, “Eventually he agrees to let her keep her child if she can guess his name.”

“It’s Rumplestiltskin,” Zack states.

“Yeah,” Cloud agrees, “But he never told her that. She has nothing to go off of. But he gives her three days to guess his name, the same amount of days he spun gold for her.”

He flips the page again, to a drawing of a woman walking through the woods, “She guesses for the first two days, saying every name she can think of. On the third day she ventures out into the woods to look for the imp-man. Eventually, she finds his home and watches him quietly. At some point he begins dancing around a fire,” Cloud flips to a page with a drawing of Rumplestiltskin dancing around a fire, “and singing, ‘ Tonight tonight, my plans I make, tomorrow tomorrow, the baby I take. The queen will never win the game, for Rumpelstiltskin is my name .’” Cloud does a weird voice as he sings the song, something his mother had done the many times she read the story to him. It has the desired effect of making Zack laugh, and so he smiles.

“The queen goes back home,” Cloud continues, flipping to a page portraying the queen in the throne room, standing before the small imp, “and when Rumpelstiltskin comes back she first pretends she has no clue about his name, and then she reveals it ‘Rumpelstiltskin’. He gets so angry about losing that he starts accusing her of speaking with the devil to learn his name.”

“That’s intense,” Zack says.

“Yeah,” Cloud agrees, “But in this version he ends up flying out the window in his rage. In some versions he just leaves, in others he tears himself in half or falls into the planet.”

“Woah,” Zack says, “ripping himself in half is… a lot .”

“Mhm,” Cloud hums, “That’s why I like this version, it’s the original one, I think.” Cloud closes the book, standing to slide it back onto its shelf, “Anyway, a lot of Nibel folktales and stories are like that. Lessons with weird sort of gruesome twists. Junon’s tales have lessons, too, but they’re not so dark . Not always at least,” Cloud thinks, sitting again, “Here let me see the book, I’ll show you one.”

Zack hands over the book, and Cloud sets it on the table where Zack can see easily, flipping to one of the stories he’s memorized. 

“This one’s not my favorite, by any means, but it reminds me of Nibel tales. It’s about a mouse who’s very vain and ends up marrying a cat, who eats her.” 

“Poor mouse,” Zack frowns.

“Well,” Cloud tells him, “It’s a lesson about the dangers of vanity.”

“Fair enough,” Zack agrees, “So why is this book your favorite?” 

“Oh,” Cloud is suddenly reminded why he pulled this book off the shelf, “My father bought this one for my mother before they married. She brought it with her when she moved into the castle. This book has been here longer than I have, and my mother used to read me stories from it when I couldn’t sleep. Especially after my father died.” Cloud feels the tips of his ears heat, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. 

“That’s…” Zack begins, “Very sweet. My mom used to tell me stories too, mostly Gongagan ones.”

“I think it’s a thing moms do,” Cloud says, “I don’t know if we have any Gongagan tales. I’ll keep an eye out for some in the bookshops. I’d ask you to tell me a tale now, but I think we’ve lingered here long enough. We ought to head out to the garden soon, or else we’ll run out of time for a full tour.”

“That sounds amazing,” Zack agrees, extending his hand toward Cloud, “Lead the way.”

Cloud nods, smiling. He takes Zack’s hand, closing his mother’s book and putting it back on its shelf as they pass it. 

They exit the library, heading down the hall again, “Perhaps you can write me a letter telling me about some Gongagan tales,” Cloud recommends as they pass rooms he could care less about, 

“That would be lovely, I think,” Zack tells him.

“Those are the stairs up toward my quarters,” Cloud gestures to the stairs as he passes them, “The sunroom is that way, it’s lovely in the rain and snow, especially with the fire lit.”

“It’s amazing how different each castle is,” Zack comments, “Despite all being castles .”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to any other castles,” Cloud frowns, “Except for the one in Icicle, but it’s quite similar to this one.”

“Gongaga’s is much different, built for different weather, I suppose.”

“I could imagine, you get much more rain, don’t you?”

“Yeah, and not much snow at all. Well, no snow actually.”

“It’s snowing more often than not here.”

“It’s greener in Gongaga, too. Lots of vines all over the castle. On the outside, I mean.”

Cloud laughs, “This is the door to the garden,” he stops them in front of it, “Would you like to go outside? It may be a bit cold.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Zack smiles, “Besides, we can always come back in if it gets too cold. Perhaps we could even hide away in your quarters to warm up.”

Cloud burns a ferocious, hot red from his collarbones to the tip of his ears. He clears his throat awkwardly and barely manages to squeak out a soft “Yeah” as he pushes open the door to the gardens, pulling Zack through with him. 

Chapter Text

The first thing Cloud feels as he slips into the garden is the sting of the cold of Nibel autumn wind cooling his cheeks. He leads himself and Zack through the garden silently, doing his best to focus on anything but the warmth of Zack’s hand in his, even through their gloves. 

“The gardens aren’t very impressive here,” Cloud explains, “Most things can’t survive the constant cold, let alone the winters, and that’ll be here soon enough, so it’s mostly empty right now. Come spring, the gardeners will fix it up, though.”

“Gongaga’s gardens are always in bloom,” Zack comments, “Aerith spends most of her time out there, actually.”

Cloud pauses, turning to face Zack, “She lives in the castle?”

Zack tilts his head, nodding, “Of course,” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like it should be a given that the pretty girl who wears common clothes to royal balls in other kingdoms lives in the castle with the royal family, “she’s essentially a retainer. But she’s more like a friend or the court mage. She works in the castle, I mean. She makes curatives, mostly.” 

Cloud opens his mouth briefly, then closes it, frowning, puzzled. “You have a court mage?” he asks. 

“More or less,” Zack nods, “She’s more like a…” Zack puffs out his cheeks, thinking, “An apothecary? Except she really does have magic, it’s in her blood.”

“Okay,” Cloud furrows his brow, “Perhaps we can discuss that another time. Maybe when she’s actually present.”

“Good idea,” Zack agrees, nodding.

Cloud stares back at Zack for a moment more, taking in the way the moonlight reflects off Zack’s shiny, black hair, it’s just now he notices a faint x-shaped scar on Zack’s jaw, the only blemish on his otherwise flawless face. Cloud blinks and turns away, taking a deep breath in through his nose and letting the cold air sting his nostrils. 

He continues pulling them through the garden, rolling the idea of Aerith being actually magic around in his head. He fully believes it after meeting her. There was absolutely something about her that was not so easily explained by the mundane , something Cloud cannot describe as anything but an aura. 

He stops when they arrive at their destination, Cloud’s favorite portion of the garden. 

“Here,” Cloud begins, Zack pulling up to his side, “This is the lavender fields, I assumed you’d want to know my favorite portion of the garden’s, like you did the library, so I went ahead and brought us straight here,” Cloud pauses clearing his throat in embarrassment. He shouldn’t have assumed, really, that Zack was doing anything other than being polite. But something about Zack made Cloud trust him, Zack just seemed so wholly earnest and sincere. 

“I enjoy it best because the smell is very… calming,” Cloud explains, “And with the strong smell not many people wander through the fields, it makes it an excellent place to go when things get a bit overwhelming or I want to get away from everyone for a bit.” Cloud bites his lip, “I believe it has some other health benefits, aside from calming, too. Would you like to harvest some for your friend, Aerith?” 

Zack brightens immediately, “That would be awesome .” Zack smiles. Cloud feels a jolt in his chest, like his stomach jumping into his heart, but brushes off the feeling as quickly as it came. 

Cloud steps forward, into the fields, “I believe we can just snap some sprigs off the top of plants and wrap them for you to take back. I assume she’ll know what to do with them?” 

“Probably,” Zack agrees, following Cloud into the field. 

Reluctantly, Cloud releases Zack’s hand, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his handkerchief, “Here,” he says, showing the square to Zack, “We can wrap the sprigs in this to keep them safe.”

Zack tilts his head at the object, his brows drawing together. Cloud grows immediately concerned that he’s done something wrong, so he opens his mouth without actually thinking through what he wants to say next, “I haven’t used it,” Cloud blushes, embarrassed, “If that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just been washed and stuffed into my pocket.”

Zack laughs softly, “No it’s not that,” he shakes his head, chuckling, all gentle and reassuring, “It’s nothing, really. It’s just…” He seems to contemplate his next words, something Cloud wishes he’d done for himself moments ago, “In Gongaga, you don’t just give away your handkerchief or a scarf. It means something, but I’m guessing that’s not the case here, in Nibelheim?”

“Oh,” Cloud says, drawing his handkerchief to his chest, “No, it’s not. What does it mean?” 

“It’s not important,” Zack dismisses, “let’s get to harvesting, shall we?”

 “Let’s,” Cloud agrees, suspicious of Zack’s dismissal, but not yet comfortable enough around him to interrogate him. 

For several minutes, they work with no sound except for the soft wind and the rustling of the well-pruned lavender bushes as they move through them. Cloud gathers a decent handful before he stands upright, sighing and stepping out of the field, back onto the paved path. Zack follows, reaching out his hand.

Cloud hands Zack the small bundle of lavender stems, opening his handkerchief in his hands for Zack to lay the branches out on it. Zack sets the sprigs down in the center of the fabric, lifting the corners of the fabric and wrapping the lavender, as if swaddling a baby. He slides the parcel into his pocket, dusting off his hands.  

“Well,” Cloud begins, clearing his throat, “Why don’t I show you more of the gardens? The nicest area right now would probably be where the sunflowers are, and since they’re on the opposite end of the gardens, I can show you everything else on the way.” 

“That sounds amazing,” Zack agrees, “We don’t have sunflowers in Gongaga, I don’t think, at least.” 

“Allow me to show you them,” Cloud says, grabbing Zack’s hand again, pulling him back into the garden. The door they came through places them in the front center of the garden, the lavender fields stand on the far west end, the sunflowers are planted on the east end, leaving the entire garden to tour in between.

“Very few plants are in bloom,” Cloud comments as they pass several shrubs and trees, “Many things here are planted more for the color and shape of their foliage than the flowers.” He gestures toward a small, thin tree covered in bright, red leaves. Zack whispers a quiet “woah” as they walk past. 

“The roses are there,” Cloud points to a bed of thorny bushes, notably lacking actual roses, “but you’re just a little late to see those.” Zack nods.

“We have lilies, tulips, and chamomile, too, but those won’t bloom again til spring. Perhaps I can send you some dried chamomile when they begin blooming? They make wonderful tea.”

“I’d like that,” Zack smiles.

“Oh,” Cloud says, stopping in his tracks, “That’s strange.” 

“What’s strange?” Zack asks, trying to spot what Cloud is looking at.

“Well,” Cloud crouches, releasing Zack’s hand, staring at a small bed of flowers, “I don’t think the gardeners planted this here on purpose , and even if they did…” 

Zack crouches beside him, reaching out and plucking one of the small blue flowers, “ forget me nots , we have these in Gongaga, they grow everywhere.”

“Yes,” Cloud agrees, “I believe they’re imported from there, but they shouldn’t be planted in this area, and even if they were, it's so late in the season, there shouldn’t be any blooms here.”

“Huh,” Zack tilts his head, “that is strange.” 

“Hm,” Cloud hums, plucking one of the small flowers himself, studying it for a moment before he stands, shoving it into his pocket, “Well, let’s continue.”

Zack reaches out his hand, and Cloud takes it, leading Zack further in. 

“We plant some decorative grasses, too,” Cloud comments, “And plenty of other plants and flowers I don’t really know the name of. Some beds in the garden rotate annually, different flowers every year, depending on what seeds and bulbs have been imported.”

They reach a bench overlooking a rather sad sunflower field, “It’s not amazing,” Cloud comments, “But it is the end of the season, they’ll probably harvest these fields this week, gathering seeds from the heads.”

“It’s beautiful,” Zack says, “I mean, it’s quite dark, and they’re a bit droopy, but I think they’re beautiful.”

Cloud smiles, “You should see them when they’re still growing, they turn to face the sun. It’s amazing, really. A flower that moves to look at the sun.” 

“Wow,” Zack comments, “that is amazing.”

“Oh!” Cloud gasps with an idea, “They actually do grow well in the warm summer months, I’m sure if you had a few seeds you could actually grow them back in Gongaga.”

“It is pretty warm there,” Zack agrees, “Do you just want to go into the field and get some?”

Cloud frowns, “No it’s a bit more complex than that,” he taps his foot momentarily, lost in thought, “I’m sure I can have a courier just deliver some directly to you, I don’t see why I couldn’t just slip some in an envelope with a letter, and mother would certainly be glad to see me making friends with a member of another kingdom for once.”

“What does that mean?” Zack asks, “‘for once’?” He's not asking rudely or accusingly, he seems so genuinely confused, as if Cloud isn’t known across the seven kingdoms for being insufferable, for being a bratty prince and a loser with no friends. 

“Um,” Cloud cringes, not wanting to come off as petulant as he knows he knows it makes him sound, “I just… don’t tend to get on well with others. Usually, when I meet other royals, it’s because my mother wants me to pursue them romantically . Every kingdom needs a queen, doesn’t it?”

Zack frowns, “You don’t want that?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Cloud wraps his arms around himself, a horrible habit he knows would get him scolded, princes shouldn’t look so weak, so cowardly, but he just wants to be small, to provide himself a tiny bit of comfort as he admits something so embarrassing and utterly bratty. He knows the kingdom comes first, he knows , but can’t he just a few more years of being happy before he has to think of the kingdom? His mother is still alive and healthy, for gods’ sake. 

“I care about the kingdom,” he explains, “and I want to find a wife eventually ,” and he wishes it were really true, that when he said it it didn’t feel like a lie, like it didn’t burn on the way out and make his stomach bubble, “but I just… don’t really want it. I want the kingdom to prosper, but it wouldn’t make me happy. Does that make sense?”

Zack looks at him for a moment, and Cloud feels like a beetle mounted to a board, pins stuck in every limb, like the ones in the king’s study that have been there since before he was born. “Not really,” Zack says, “I mean, I get it, but it doesn’t really make sense to me. Why want something that won’t make you happy?” 

Cloud sighs then, dropping his arms, “Because it’s what I have to do, isn’t it? What we all have to do. The burden of being the eldest, and only, child of the royal family.” 

“Marriage shouldn’t be a burden,” Zack shakes his head, “I mean, your father married a common woman, right? Do you really think your mom would care if you never married?”

“Maybe,” Cloud feels like he’s lying when he says it, “I’m sure she wants me to be happy, but for her the people of the kingdom have always come first. I feel more like a means to an end… Like my purpose is just to be her and my father’s successor and to eventually have a child who will be my successor. An heir. ” 

“Hm,” Zack hums, “well, why dwell on that now? Come on, show me something else.” 

Cloud gladly takes the opportunity to switch topics, sick of the way thinking about his future makes him feel, “How about I finally show you my quarters, then? We can chat for a while, perhaps I can have the guest quarters prepared for you? You can leave in the morning, if that sounds alright?” 

“That sounds perfect,” Zack agrees, “Lead the way, it’s freezing out here.”

Cloud laughs, grabbing and tugging Zack by the hand back toward the castle doors. 

Chapter Text

“Good evening, Your Highness,” a servant donned in pale, steely blue greets, bowing her head, “How can I assist you?”

“Good evening,” Cloud returns the greeting, “His Royal Highness, Prince Zack of Gongaga has decided to delay his journey home, and will spend the night in the castle. He will be leaving right after morning breakfast, so please ensure guest quarters are prepared for him and that the kitchen staff prepare a plate for him in the morning, and pack him enough food for his journey home after, as well.” 

“Is that all, Your Highness?” The servant asks.

“Yes,” Cloud answers, waving his hand at the servant, “you are dismissed.” 

The servant nods, then rushes off, presumably to speak to the other staff about preparing bedchambers for Zack. 

Cloud blows out a breath, dusting off his pants and heading down the hall toward the ballroom. He stops just short of the doors and waits for Zack to emerge. It’s several minutes later when Zack slips out the doors, looking around briefly, then smiling when he catches Cloud’s eye, Cloud flushes, swallowing down the way his heart stutters. 

“Have you alerted the necessary personnel?” Cloud asks him.

“Yeah,” Zack assures, “I told Aerith to let everyone know I delayed my journey home. She’ll tell everyone who needs to know, and she’ll probably find herself a room at an inn to stay in so she can head back with me.”

Cloud frowns, “I could have a room prepared for her, too.”

“No,” Zack shakes his head, “she wouldn’t want to stay in the castle, she likes to explore the town, so she’d rather find an inn.”

“Oh,” Cloud says, dumbfounded, “Isn’t that dangerous for a lady?”

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Zack laughs.

“My apologies,” Cloud grimaces, “I shouldn’t assume.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Zack waves him off, “Let’s head out?”

Cloud nods, “Let’s.”

Zack smiles, nodding his head toward the opposite end of the hallway, an invitation for Cloud to begin their journey to his room. 

Cloud doesn’t waste a moment, immediately setting down the hall toward the stairs that lead to the Prince's Chambers. He takes his time, suddenly nervous at the prospect of him and Zack alone in his chambers, something he had felt so bold in recommending in the garden. He chews his cheek, too scared to speak, in fear his voice may crack or fail him altogether. Thankfully, Zack seems more than happy to fill the silence without response. 

“I really like how different the aesthetics of Nibelheim and Gongaga are,” Zack rambles as they begin ascending the stairs, “Like, it’s all wood and marble and cold here. But in Gongaga it’s warm and stone and mud and vines.” 

Zack hums thoughtfully then, “It’s a nice change though, it feels really royal here, like for real royal. The sound of shoes tapping on the marble is so cool, the halls here are exactly what someone pictures when they think ‘ castle’, you know what I mean?”

Cloud hums in agreement, though he’s not really sure he’s actually agreeing with. He’s barely been listening, too busy trying to will his heart to calm against his ribcage. Zack continues rambling, but it becomes nothing more than background noise as they approach the end of the hallway, the door to Cloud’s very own chambers. 

“We’re here,” Cloud states, stopping and releasing Zack’s arm. He’s unsure what to do here, does he open the door and give a tour? Simply walk in and sit? He clenches his hands nervously, only stopping when Zack bumps his shoulder with his own in a friendly gesture of ‘ go on then’ . 

Cloud clears his throat, opening the door to his room. It’s one of the largest sleeping chambers in the castle, smaller only than the chambers belonging to the king and queen. 

“Here it is,” Cloud says, gesturing around his room. His plush, blue-donned bed against the far wall is well made, of course, the entire room is spotless thanks to the chambermaid. The large, blue rug is swept, the matching curtains are drawn shut, the nightstand is cleared, every painting and tapestry and sword hung on the wall is dusted, and the wardrobe is, thankfully, fully shut. 

The only thing marring the otherwise clean room is his desk, which is an absolute mess. Several books litter the top, a pen laying on its side, leaking ink all over a piece of parchment, and various knick-knacks and papers are strewn about. He frowns at the desk, but ignores it, hoping Zack will do the same if he notices the mess. 

He nods to a set of chairs on the far side of his room, plush and, like everything else, blue. “We can sit here, if you like,” Cloud offers, “Though, I am quite tired, so I think I shall sit on my bed. It’s much more comfortable. I…” Cloud bites his tongue, near begging himself to stop speaking, but the rest of the sentence comes out regardless of his attempts to shut himself up, “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to sit with me there, until your chambers are prepared, that is.”

Zack smiles, a warm, bright thing that puts Cloud’s mind in such a permanent state of calm and stupid. “Sure,” Zack agrees, like it was a normal ask. 

Cloud sits on his bed sighing as he sinks into the mattress, he leans forward, unlacing his boots and sliding them off as he leans back against his large mattress, sprawled out across the foot of the bed. Zack follows suit, sitting and slipping off his own boots, but simply sitting cross legged at the head of the bed, in front of the pillows.

Cloud closes his eyes, simply breathing in the calm for a moment as he works up the courage to speak again. 

“I really do hate these balls,” Cloud says, opening his eyes and looking up at the ceiling, studying every detail of the wood that he’s long since memorized.

“You do?” Zack asks, “Why?”

“They’re such… a performance. Just an excuse for my mom to try and get me to meet suitors, or, well, women for me to pursue. I guess I would be the suitor there, wouldn’t I?”

“Probably,” Zack agrees. “My parents aren’t so worried about that, I guess, so I just get to mingle and have fun whenever we have a ball or whatever.” 

Cloud frowns, “I don’t really enjoy the whole mingling bit, either. I’d rather go paint or practice swordplay or read or simply sit alone and drink tea, I think.”

“Oh,” Zack says, seemingly dumbfounded at the idea of someone preferring to be alone . 

Cloud rushes to correct himself, “I mean,” he starts “it’s not that I dislike people, I just would really rather be alone. I like some people, just not so many at once. And I feel like spending time around so many people in the public eye being judged or watched just drains me. I simply run out of the energy to deal with it all. I guess at some point I stopped forcing myself to try too hard to please everyone, so it’s easier, doable that is, but not quite enjoyable.”

“That makes sense,” Zack says slowly, “I think.” He pauses for a moment, Cloud worries he’s made a fool of himself, scared off yet another person by being abnormal .

Before Cloud can spiral further, he hears Zack shuffling beside him, when he looks over, Zack has moved to lay on his side, elbow pressed against the bed and head resting on his hand, looking at Cloud, he finishes his statement like this, face-to-face with Cloud, “they do call it people skills , don’t they? Maybe it’s just something you have to practice. I know that no matter how much I practice drawing I’m still not good at it, but it’s still worth trying anyway, because maybe one day I’ll look at the paper and see something I like, you know?” 

“Maybe,” Cloud hums, looking away from Zack and back toward the ceiling, “I guess everyone does have their own strengths.” Cloud lets the sentiment sink in, sits with it quietly for a while and forces himself to try and accept it. It helps him feel more normal , just the slightest, but it’s more normal than he’s felt since he was seven, so he’s glad for it. 

“So,” Zack drawls, pulling Cloud from his thoughts, “you have anything cool in here?”

Cloud turns his head to look around, pondering, then stands, moving to the other side of his room and grabbing a sword off a display on the wall. It’s one he doesn’t use often, not in training anyway, if he were to go on a real mission or into battle he’d bring it, but he’s yet to have that chance. He carries it over to his bed, where Zack sits up on his approach.

“This,” Cloud begins, “is my father’s sword.” He grabs it by the hilt with one hand, wielding it easily. It’s a longsword, the grip white and made from the tusk of some beast his grandfather had slain long before Cloud was born, the pommel is uninteresting, a round knob made to be held easily when wielding the sword with both hands. The guard is made of the same metal of the blade, both it and the ricasso carved with intricate depictions of flowers found on the Nibel mountains, and of the Nibel wolf, the very representation of the Nibel royal family. It is Cloud’s most prized possession.

He sits on the bed, laying the blade against his still gloved hand while holding the grip. Zack peeks at the sword, at the beautiful, intricate carvings and ivory, and gasps, “wow.”

“It’s not as heavy as it looks, or should be,” Cloud explains, setting the blade across his lap, something about how it was made makes it easy to wield one-handed, like a rapier, “and the grip was carved by my grandfather, then the blacksmith added these carvings,” Cloud explains running a finger along the metal, feeling the indents.

“May I?” Zack asks, extending a hand.

Cloud nods, lifting the blade, then offering the hilt toward Zack, who takes it gently, like it might fracture, as if it were not a blade that’s seen blood and bone and rock more times than Cloud could tell. 

“Woah,” Zack breathes, “I think…” he trails off, a finger running across the carvings on the guard. “I’m pretty sure this blade is enchanted.”

Cloud tilts his head, thinking, “Perhaps,” he responds, not sure if his family would do something like that, and even more unsure if anyone in Nibelheim would ever have been capable of that task. An enchanter, in Nibelheim of all places? Instead of in Mideel where magic flows through the kingdom like water through a stream? Or even Gongaga, a kingdom whose history is full of stories of ancient civilizations of magic users and dragon tamers? He struggles to believe it, but struggles to doubt Zack even more.

“Well,” Zack says offering the sword back to Cloud, “either way, it is a beautiful weapon, do you use it often?”

Cloud shakes his head, “Rarely,” he stands to return it to its place on the wall, then lays back down on the bad, flat on his back and sighing as he settles comfortably into the blankets, “I have a different sword for training, it’s heavier, of course, but it makes it easier to ensure I learn correct technique. I train with a variety of weapons, though, just in case I don’t have my own on me,” Cloud explains. 

Zack lays back against the bed, stretching comfortably, when he eases out of his stretch one of his hands end up within reach of Cloud’s own, if his fingers so much as twitched they’d be touching, he can feel its presence so close it feels as though his fingertips may catch fire. He swallows thickly, “what’s your weapon of choice?”

Zack hums lazily, like he’s tired, close to nodding off, “I prefer a claymore. I’m always encouraged to train with all weapons, like you mentioned, but none of them have the… splendor of a big sword.”

Cloud laughs, “I think there’s more important things than splendor ,” he teases gently.

Zack gasps, like he thinks Cloud’s serious, perhaps Cloud’s response was too deadpan, the sarcasm lost on Zack, because Zack hurries to defend himself, “Of course!” he says with so much passion Cloud wants to reach for his hand and hold it tightly. He doesn’t of course, and Zack continues speaking, “I want to protect people, more than anything. I want to go down in the history books as King Zack the Good or the hero or as the kind I want my people to know I’ll protect them, that’s what’s important.” 

Cloud glances over and catches Zack nodding to himself, approving his own message. 

Zack must sense Cloud’s gaze, because he turns and locks eyes with Cloud before he finishes the sentence, “but why not do it with flair? If I’m going to be a hero, a true leader, why not look good doing it?” 

Cloud blushes, not looking away for fear of being obvious, but nods his agreement, “yeah,” he says, “I want that, too. To be remembered as kind and good. And to make a change for the kingdom, something that does good for generations.” 

“See?” Zack says, breaking eye contact and smiling at the ceiling, “It’s a good dream.”

“A dream,” Cloud repeats airily, staring at Zack, “yeah.” He swallows, forcing his own eyes to the ceiling. Before either one of them gets the chance to speak again, a knock comes at his door. He sits up, much too fast, and stares at the door for a beat before speaking. 

“Come in,” he instructs. 

The door opens to a chambermaid bowing her head politely, “Sorry for interrupting, Your Highnesses, I was just coming to inform you that the guest chambers are now prepared. I can show His Highness, Prince Zack the way, if he wishes?”

“I can show him his room,” Cloud tells her, not giving Zack a chance to answer for himself. He notices his error almost instantly, cringing into himself, “Unless, of course,” he corrects, “You’d rather I not?” He looks at Zack for an answer. 

“No,” Zack shakes his head, “That would be wonderful, Cloud. Let us finish our conversation on the way to my guest chambers, then?”

Cloud nods, “Let’s.” He stands, dismissing the chambermaid as he slips his boots back on, waiting as Zack does the same. 

He leads Zack to the door, holding it open as they both exit into the hallway. 

“You’ll be leaving after breakfast, yes?” Cloud asks, walking down the hall toward the guest chambers, though he already knows the answer.

“Yep,” Zack answers, “I think I’ll like speaking to your mother, without all the hub-bub of the ball around us.”

“You spoke to my mother?” Cloud asks, dumbfounded, “Why?”

“Yeah,” Zack answers, “I had to introduce myself, and I was mostly just standing there while her and my parents spoke about politics, our kingdom’s being neighbors and all that.” 

“Oh,” Cloud sighs, “That does make sense. Perhaps I should meet your parents one day, too, then?”

Zack smiles, chuckling, “I’m sure you will, either way.”

Cloud stops in front of Zack’s door, then turns to face him, “This is it,” he tells him, “I’m sure you’re tired, so I won’t keep you up, there should be everything you need in there, a chambermaid will wake you for breakfast, so I shall see you then. Good night, Zack.” 

Zack smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and reaches for one of Cloud’s hands, grabbing it with both of his, “Good night, Cloud,” he says, placing a kiss on Cloud’s knuckles, before dropping his hand and receding into his room for the night.

Cloud stands there for several minutes, staring at the door, the thick wooden panel hiding Zack from sight. He contemplates kicking it down, asking what that was, what it meant. Why it happened, why Zack would do that then disappear. 

He decides against it, turning and walking back to his own bedchamber, replaying the sequence of events over and over again in his head. He tries to come up with an explanation for it on his own, something that makes sense, that explains it all away. 

He comes up with the only possible explanation for it: It’s another Gongagan custom he’s unaware of. He’ll have to find some book in the library on Gongagan culture and customs, there must be plenty of niche customs he’s never heard of before. Not too long ago he learned it was customary in Junon to give someone a condor’s feather on their birthday. Something tied to a legend of the phoenix that’s been carried on through the tradition, he only learned of it a few months back, when the kingdom had gifted him a large, high quality feather for his own nineteenth birthday. 

Perhaps the action was something like that. A Gongagan tradition of kissing the knuckles of your host goodnight before bed. Cloud was in no position to question or judge another kingdom’s traditions, Nibelheim had their own traditions that were much weirder than that. He decided then and there to shove the memory into the back of his mind, to not think of it again unless Zack mentioned it himself, happy to assume it was just an insignificant gesture. 

With that, he entered back into his own room, slipping off his boots and gloves, then changing into his nightgown and putting on his nightcap. 

As he slid under the covers, Cloud found himself nearly too anxious to sleep, worried for what a breakfast featuring his mother and Zack would entail, feeling inexplicably desperate for her to approve of Zack. 

Cloud wasn’t sure when he began feeling the need for his mother to approve of his friends, and why he was worried she wouldn’t approve of him befriending the prince of their neighboring kingdom. Of course she’d be pleased at a burgeoning friendship between the heirs of two kingdoms with a long-standing allyship.