"The hell do you think?" They headed for the library in search of the newspaper about Wimsey. "We were wrong. It can't wait."

   He shoved open the large double doors, and his pace didn't waver as he stormed to the section he had visited weeks before, following the ball. 

   "Losing your temper isn't going to help," Adrian hissed under his breath. Alaric only tightened his lips and ducked his head. 

   They found the section, and Alaric started digging around the papers until he found one that was familiar and flipped through it. Hello again, Rosaline.

   As soon as Alaric stood to leave, Adrian grabbed his hand. Their eyes locked. 

   "Al. Calm down first." He gently squeezed his hand, and Alaric froze. His wing twitched in a jerking movement, agitation bubbling in his chest as his voice dropped. "Let go of me."

   Adrian hesitated, lips parted, then complied. He wrapped his arms around himself as they began walking again, and they fell silent until they left the library.

   "I just can't believe this means we've only got a few weeks left," Adrian whispered, itching at the of his hand restlessly. "I guess I was wrong about pushing things off." Alaric sighed. 

   "There's no point in voicing it. There's nothing we can do, now."

   When they made it to Eliza's office, Alaric told Adrian to wait nearby. He squeezed his shoulder before he went inside. 

   "Sorry if there's yelling, by the way. I know you don't like to hear that." Adrian wordlessly held his gaze until he watched him turn away. 

   There he goes, he thought. He drew in a deep breath and released it, walking over to lean against a nearby pillar. There I go, too, I guess.

❦

   "You're awfully quiet today," Clarke noted. Adrian shoved his hands in his pockets- he had forgotten his gloves at home that day. 

   "Really? Am I?" 

   It was nearly eight at night, and the two were walking home from work. In the distance, a few shops had begun to close in the nearby markets that lay right in front of the palace. Not far from it was the river cutting the kingdom's mainland in two. 

   If you were to go past the residencies past the markets, across a bridge, you would find the slums.

   The two walked in comfortable silence, cutting through the icy air of early December until they reached home. When they opened the door, they were greeted with sudden warmth and the smell of soup, as Olive sat by the fireplace, reading. She perked up when she heard the door open and rushed over to greet them, and Adrian looked away when she stole a kiss from her husband. He did see, though, the same awkward smile his father always gave her, private and exclusive to her.

   "It was freezing today, wasn't it?" said Olive, as Adrian shrugged out of his coat. "It's bound to get colder, too, hm?" Memories of fighting the cold when he was much younger flashed in his mind, and he reached for his hand again. 

   "Adrian, darling," his mother snapped, reaching for his wrists. He flinched, stepping back, and Olive released him. She sighed. 

   "When are you ever going to stop that?" she said, her tone softening. Adrian gnawed on his cheek. 

   "I don't know," he muttered, and it was the truth. There was just something that came with the sharp pain that calmed his nerves, dulling the edges of his mind. 

   Olive grimaced, examining his hands. "It's sinful." Adrian shrugged, growing irritated. He pulled away, crossing his arms. His mother opened her mouth to speak, but seemed to give up. 

   The rest of the evening was mostly spent as usual. They ate dinner together, tidied up together, and settled down together. Adrian found himself tuning his guitar beside the fireplace as the Clarkes chatted nearby. His fingers paused as he shrank into his own thoughts. 

   "You know," he had told Alaric that day following the newspaper incident, "I know you probably wouldn't want to hear this, but I think your wings are pretty." He sat on a small sofa near Alaric's desk as he watched him as he sketched. Alaric didn't look up, only leaned further into his paper. 

   "That's interesting." His wings shifted behind him, but he didn't seem go notice. Adrian smiled. He looks so focused. "Yeah. If that makes you feel any better." Alaric only paused, then hummed. 

   Adrian got up and stood beside him, then picked up the eraser from his desk and held it above his head. Alaric's head snapped up to look at him, and Adrian grinned. 

   "Give that back." He stood up and reached for it, but Adrian held it higher and stepped back. Alaric grabbed at his arm, but failed to lower it enough to take back the rubber. "Dammit, Ian," he said past a laugh, trying to hop up to reach it. Adrian pushed him away by the forehead. 

   "There it is." He slowly handed it back, and Alaric swiped it back, rolling his eyes. "You're ridiculous." 

   "And you're short. Guess that makes it even."

  He now realized he hadn't seen him smile since then. 

   "Adrian?" his mother called, dragging him back from the memory. "Are you alright? You've got that same look again, like something's wrong." Adrian smiled, and he realized his fingers had halted in tuning. 

   "I'm fine, Mum. Just spaced out." She stared for a moment longer, a crease forming between her eyebrows before she shook her head. 

   "Anyway, thoughts on getting a girlfriend anytime soon? You've been eighteen for a few months already, for Divine's sake." Adrian paused, then quietly sighed quietly. 

   "Not yet, Mum."

❦

   She was beautiful. He couldn't even deny it, and yet, it all felt so wrong.

   Meanwhile, the box he was meant to propose with weighed heavy in his inner coat pocket. 

   "It's lovely to meet you again, Your Highness," said Rosaline. 

   "Please, no need for all of that. Just Alaric is fine," he replied tightly, flashing a smile. She stared for a moment, then smiled when he offered his arm. It was almost like the night of the ball. "Same to you," he added. 

   "The garden's beautiful, isn't it?" She marveled at the endless, polished scenery around them. Greens and reds and colors of all sorts could be seen around them, perfectly arranged. Legends say that Percy Scarlet grew this whole royal garden for Penella not long before they were married, just so that they can have their marriage surrounded by flowers and nature. 

   "Absolutely," Alaric replied, fighting to keep his wings from twitching with nerves. "Never thought you'd get to walk here?"

   "Not at all, no." She smiled, eying a shrub covered in red flowers. "It's like I'm walking through a painting." He chuckled. 

   "You need to see it in the spring. It's something entirely different by then." She brought a gloved hand to the side of her face. "I can imagine."

   It felt odd seeing her now, seeing her face and hearing her voice without the weight of persona on his shoulders or the masks on their faces.

   "I must say, though, Your- Alaric, I do owe you an apology." She chewed her lip. "I'm not sure what damage I've caused, but I know it couldn't have been good. I just got a bit carried away and all..." Alaric's wings fluttered nervously, and he laughed aloud. "Oh, no worries. I couldn't blame you for being a bit surprised." She tensed, then silently exhaled through a small, dimpled grin. 

   Eventually, they passed a few stone statues of pureblooded Vampires, which stood like gargoyles as they seemed to watch over them. Vines and moss ran up the sides, and the edges were worn with time and the elements. He wondered when they had been put there. 

   "What's it like to live here?" Rosaline asked, suddenly. Alaric hesitated before answering, matter-of-factly, "It's how you'd think it'd be."

   "What do you mean?"

   "You'll find out soon enough, anyway."

   "What?"

   He fought back a sigh. Let's get it over with.

   He pulled away to kneel down before her. Her eyes widened as she covered her mouth, and he dug out the box and snapped it open, the rubies glinting in the afternoon Sun. 

   "Miss Rosaline Wimsey, will you marry me?" 

❊