Chapter Text
![[alt text]](https://images.squidge.org/images/2024/11/22/Dragon-for-cupcake-3.png)
The amazing artwork for this story was done by the absolutely wonderful MxThirteen
The birdsong is so prevalent this early in the morning that it almost drowns out the water streaming over the rocks as Aziraphale deftly guides his horse over the slick stones of the brook. Luna snorts, frustrated, when one of her hooves sticks in the muddy bank. Her ink black mane, dappled with the sunlight, shimmers as Aziraphale runs a hand over it calmly. “Sshhh .. it’s just a little mud - there you go, up the bank - good girl.” Aziraphale continues his grateful pats, his hand sliding reassuringly over her neck as they make their way out of the trees and back onto the path. The bright white of her coat gleams in the sunlight, her head flipping to the side to give Aziraphale an irritated snort. “I’m sorry Luna! It’s the only place to cross the water - how was I to know the bank would still be muddy from the storm.”
Luna seems not to care about Aziraphale’s excuses and snorts one more time before turning back to the road at a slow trot. For Aziraphale’s part, he feels a bit guilty for making Luna cross the stream, the detour not being entirely necessary to begin with. He knows he doesn’t need to return to the castle this way, knows there is a faster and less winding path back, but Aziraphale always finds himself coming this way anyway. It’s a silly habit, especially for a 22 year old prince, but Aziraphale can’t seem to give up any opportunity to see the one bright spot in his day.
Though he would consider his daily ride the best part of his day, being able to ride past the kingdom’s unofficial animal sanctuary always topped it. Aziraphale’s love of animals far outweighed any other interest in his life, but he had accepted long ago that any chance of him being allowed to pursue it was a mere fantasy. So - he took advantage of any opportunity he could. His morning rides on Luna being the only animal interaction allowed to him, he took it upon himself to ride past the only other animals on the castle grounds as well.
As the small cottage comes into view over the hill, he glimpses movement in the back paddock. Sun sparkles off pearl white coats as the two unicorns gallop around each other in a playful dance, the male letting out a whinny that echoes down the path as he affectionately rubs his horn along the back of his female mate. Aziraphale’s face breaks into a smile as he watches, wondering not for the first time what their names are, then lets out a soft sigh as the other reason for his long route home steps into the pen with them.
Aziraphale had slowed Luna to a walk as he came closer to the cottage, near enough now to see the gleam of red from Crowley’s hair as he walked up to the male. He knows his name, though that was about all he knew, since he’d never had the nerve or occasion to speak to the man himself. Crowley had come to the kingdom a couple years previous with the mage Miss Bea, the both of them having been sent here from the neighboring kingdom of Astoria as a gesture of goodwill during strenuous peace talks.
Though they had arrived in Edenara with the best of intentions, Miss Bea even being given a place in court as the royal mage, his kingdom had never fully trusted the pair. Aziraphale himself had only ever spoken to Miss Bea in passing, her place in court providing him an avenue of conversation that his family would deem appropriate. The conversations were never long, but he never got the sense he should be worried about her just because she came from a country that, until recently, was the enemy of his home kingdom.
Speaking to Crowley was different though. He had no place in court and therefore was not someone Aziraphale should be seen speaking to. Not that Aziraphale agreed with this in the slightest, but the unspoken public opinion coupled with not seeing him at the castle left him to admire Crowley from afar. Even when he would see him and think he might have a chance to speak with him, the man always seemed to veer in another direction.
He hadn’t had occasion to meet many Astorians, always hearing they were brutish soldiers with a mind only for fighting and no time or care given to culture. Though watching Crowley as he rubs the shoulder of the female unicorn, he almost seems soft in comparison to the stereotype. It gives him hope that if he ever did manage to speak to him, he might willingly accept the incessant questions he has about his animals and himself. Aziraphale tells himself this as he watches Crowley walk the tree line that backs up to his cottage, his hand passing over the leaves of honeysuckle while his eyes watch the pair gallop up and down the pen.
He had always admired Crowley. Not only his ability to work with animals, which even from a distance Aziraphale can tell he loves, but his ability to shrug off the aloof treatment from the rest of the kingdom. He seemed happy enough to do what he likes and everyone else be damned, which was a mindset Aziraphale could only ever dream of having.
Without his noticing, Luna had stopped walking and was now munching on the thick grass that bordered the road near Crowley’s cottage. Tearing his eyes away from the distant figure, he runs his hand over Luna’s bent neck. “I appreciate the view that your pitstop has afforded me dear, but I do think we should get a move on.” He hears her snort into the grass before she lifts her head and shakes her mane. Aziraphale smooths down her hair then looks up for one more glimpse of red. He’s startled to find the man in the paddock staring right back, meeting his gaze. Aziraphale smiles as kindly as he can, trying not to seem as flustered as he truly is, and lifts his hand in a wave as he nudges Luna back to a trot. Crowley watches them as they start to ride off, Aziraphale noticing that he doesn't wave in return, only pinches his brow in what appears to be confusion, before turning back to his animals.
Aziraphale lets out an audible groan as they ride past the cottage and away, his own embarrassment at being caught out bringing a flush to his cheeks. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out another sigh. “I should just speak to him, shouldn’t I?” Luna gives him no answer save for a flick of her ear. “Now that you’ve so kindly let him catch me gawking.” She whinnies and lets out a snort, clearly not agreeing with the blame being placed on her shoulders. “Ok - fine, maybe that was more my own fault.”
Luna picks up her pace as the castle comes into view around a bend, Aziraphale’s mind still milling over red hair while she makes her way without instruction to the castle’s stables. He’s still preoccupied with ideas on how he could manufacture a conversation while he removes her saddle and brushes out her coat. He sees the stable hand watching him from the corner of the building and appreciates that he has finally stopped asking if he could take care of the grooming. These two hours a day were the only time Aziraphale was able to do what he truly loved and he wasn’t going to give it up no matter how uncouth it may seem for a prince to care for his own horse.
“I’ll be back tomorrow Luna,” Aziraphale grabs a few carrots from the bin by the door, “you did wonderfully today - here, have these,” he runs a hand over her flank and feels the skin below his fingers twitch, “I promise to bring you an apple in the morning.” Luna snorts, her mouth already full of carrots, and Aziraphale turns to leave, nodding to the stable boy as he exits.
The sun is still low in the sky by the time he’s making his way back to the castle, the front steps bustling with people coming and going in a way that has Aziraphale yearning for a purpose as well - just not the purpose his family would like him to have. His eye catches the short black hair of his sister among the crowd and steps up beside her to lay a hand on her arm. “Good morning Muriel. You’re out early.”
Muriel’s creased brow immediately smooths as she sees him, her face breaking into a smile he knows is only for him. “Good morning Aziraphale,” her good mood wavering slightly as she continues, “The Queen is requesting a special council this morning. Can’t imagine what for.”
Aziraphale internally bristles at the mention of the council. His own future resides there in three short years and he can only hope for the years to go by slowly. Muriel had been on the council for two years now, being present for both the signing of The Alliance with Astoria as well as the death of the king, Aziraphale can’t even begin to imagine what it would have been like to be shouldered with that responsibility at only 25 years old. She had joined the inner circle, just as his brother Gabriel had at that age and their sister Uriel before them. That only left Aziraphale, the court’s ‘young prince’, to join the ranks and it was not something he was eager to do.
Before Aziraphale can respond he sees Muriel’s attention drawn over his shoulder and turns to see his mother walking quickly up behind him. “Morning Aziraphale.” Her greeting is distracted, all her attention on Muriel as she walks to them both. “Come along Muriel, we mustn't keep Allrick waiting. My uncle is many things, but patient is not one of them. Besides,” she turns to Aziraphale finally, kissing him on the cheek, “I’m sure your brother has plenty to be getting on with.”
Her long, auburn hair glints with gold for only a moment as she turns back to Muriel, sliding her arm through her elbow and turning her towards the long staircase. Yeah - he has so much to do - all he’s allowed to do is study for the next three years. There’s only so much you can learn when you start reading through the castle library at the age of seven. He can only have books delivered from other kingdoms so often, leaving him with nothing to do for most of his days - the listlessness of it drives him crazy on the best of days. If only what he truly wanted to spend his time doing wasn’t looked at as ‘beneath him’, that’s why his rides on Luna are so coveted. His one chance to get out of the castle and enjoy something that truly brings him happiness.
Not that he will have any amount of control over his life once he does turn 25. A life of court and meetings once he’s finally on the council, and that’s the last thing he wants. Days of listening to his brother and his great uncle attempt to appear smarter than the three genius women on the council with them. His sister, his mother and her mother, Queen Lilian are possibly the most brilliant people he’s had occasion to meet and yet those two buffoons continue to question their decisions and logic. From the way Muriel tells it, even with Uriel gone, having been married off to Astoria during The Alliance, the women always win the argument regardless so what was really the point of their misogynistic fighting anyway. These are three of the smartest people he's ever known, they don’t need the likes of Aziraphale on the council to run the kingdom any better than they do now.
He stands in the stream of people coming and going from the castle, lost in thought of a future he has no desire to be a part of. When he’s finally jostled by an elderly woman pushing a cart, he apologizes for his inattention and quickly makes his way up the stairs, shaking his head at his own self pity. Walking through the massive oak doors of the main hall Aziraphale knows he should have more of an appreciation for what he has, who he is, but he’d always felt like an afterthought when it applied to his significance in court. He loves his family, but he can tell they’re not quite sure what to do with him either.
He pauses in the brightly lit corridor heading out of the hall. Light spills from the two stories windows running down the side, one square of which was perfectly framing a portrait of the late King. Beside him, his son Colin, Aziraphale’s father. The portrait’s shock of white hair being the only resemblance to Aziraphale in his aristocratic face. The cut jaw and green eyes spurn no recognition in Aziraphale, aside from the other numerous portraits of him littering the halls of the castle. He’d never met his father, his mother Freya having only been 3 months pregnant when he was lost in a battle with Astoria. He’s never missed having a father, but he’s been made aware more than once that his brother still does. Muriel has no memory of him, and Uriel, though older than Gabriel, never mentions him - neither does his mother.
The fireplace is lit when he enters his chambers, Maggie scurrying out from the bedroom to his living quarters as he closes the door behind him. Being one the many maids that live in the castle, Aziraphale tends to see her more than he would normally see of his own family, therefore he’s become rather fond of her and her fiery temper.
“Morning Maggie, thank you for the fire.” Aziraphale peels off his riding jacket and throws it on the couch, only to pick it back up again and toss it in the laundry when he sees Maggie’s eye roll as she pokes at the logs in the grate.
“I’ve run a bath for you if you’d like - I’m sure the road was mostly mud after that storm last night.” Maggie unknowingly pokes his sore spot about Luna and he feels guilty all over again for not knowing better this morning.
“Yes - Luna wasn’t exactly happy about my chosen route this morning.” He glances down at his mud strewn riding pants, “a bath is probably a good idea.”
Maggie is still stirring the fire as she says, “Riding past the cottage again were you?”
Aziraphale can feel his cheeks darkening so keeps his back to her as says, “I like the unicorns.”
“You should ask him to see them one day. You’re the prince of his kingdom, I doubt he would say no.”
Aziraphale bristles at this and finally turns to face her. “I would never .. That's a flagrant misuse of title - I couldn’t .. I respect him too much to ..” Maggie has started laughing at his grasping for words so he finally stops trying, his hands having found purchase resting on his hips as he frowns down at the giggling woman. “You well know I am not the type of person to waltz in there making demands - besides, you know how the court frowns upon me fraternizing with the townspeople. No matter how much I may disagree with it, it’s still a hard line to cross when I know everyone is always looking over my shoulder.” Still - one day - he swears he will talk to Crowley, no matter how many toes he has to step on to do it.
Maggie sighs, sitting back on her heels. “I know how much you disagree with the court mentality - we’ve had this conversation too many times to count ..” she drops her head, picking at the nail for a moment before looking back up at him, “I’d just like to see you do something to make you happy once in a while.”
Aziraphale doesn’t have an immediate response to this, and Maggie doesn’t seem to need one. She stands from her place in front of the fire and smooths her dress before strolling towards the door. “Just promise me you’ll do something for you - that isn’t just a two hour ride through the countryside.”
Not being certain he can make that promise, Aziraphale just nods, his lips in a tight smile as he watches Maggie leave the room. ‘For himself’ is such a hard concept - the act itself sounding so selfish as to make Aziraphale bristle. He knows there is a line between being true to yourself and being selfish, but to this day Aziraphale has yet to find it.
He steps into the bathroom, already warm with steam and smelling of rose. He never used the bath salts in his rooms, but Maggie never fails to utilize them when she would prepare him a bath. He closes his eyes a moment, soaking up the warmth and trying to disperse all the conflicting thoughts in his head. When he opens them he sees the hazy reflection of his face, nothing like the strong jaw and cut brow of his father, but a soft curving thing with a halo of white curls. He looked closer to Queen Lilian than any of his immediate family and it only served to isolate him more as they all grew into their place in court.
With a long sigh he pulls himself out of his riding clothes and slips into the steaming water, letting the heat of it burn away all his internal reflections and self doubt, leaving only the fleeting memory of fiery red hair.
It’s not until after dinner that Aziraphale manages to pin Muriel down on their way back to their quarters. She’d seemed oddly hesitant when heading to the council meeting today and even though Aziraphale wasn’t particularly invested in the goings-on of court politics, his sister's well-being was still in the forefront of his mind.
The moment Muriel sees him walking towards her in the hall she starts to motion to his quarters, quickly letting herself inside and closing the door behind Aziraphale. “You won’t even believe what I’m about to tell you.” Aziraphale wasn’t exactly prepared for a shocking revelation, so he falls onto the couch in anticipation and motions for Muriel to join him.
She sits beside him, smoothing her skirt for a moment before looking up at him with excitement in her wide eyes, “They’re marrying Gabriel off to a Princess in Astoria.”
Aziraphale replays the statement in his head, a small hope bubbling in his chest, “I do hope you mean to say that he’s moving to Astoria.”
Her grin gets a bit wider, breaking into a full smile when she nods and says, “six months. They’ll have the wedding here, then - if we’re lucky - we won’t have to see him more than once a year.” Her voice had reached an excitedly high pitch by the time she finishes speaking and reaches out to grab Aziraphale’s hand in solidarity. “No more condescending remarks or overbearing attitude, can you even imagine what it will be like without his self righteous comments over every dinner.”
Aziraphale could imagine, and had, quite a few times. If there was one thing that made living in the castle more distressing than anything else, it was Gabriel around every corner with a snide remark or offensive comment. The idea that, in six months, he’d be living in Astoria .. “That, Muriel, is probably the best news I’ve heard in years.” As soon as he says it though, the rational side of his brain starts to pick it apart. “But - why? Are there talks of rewriting The Alliance?”
Muriel loses a bit of her mirth at the question, her hand returning to her lap to clasp her other tightly. “Not exactly.” Aziraphale can see the dilemma running through her head, knowing he’s not on the council, yet failing to give any reasonable care about it. “You know how strenuous the situation is .. or maybe you don’t .. but there have been rumblings of Astorian forces growing in number at another country’s borders.” She must see Aziraphale tense because she quickly clarifies, “It’s no threat to us, but we’re not exactly in a spot to help if they would ask. This is more of a .. preemptive .. good faith move, and hopefully they won’t feel the need to pull us into whatever barbaric move they decide to make next.”
The memory of war still sits uncomfortably close to the surface for all of the kingdom, two years of peace doesn’t seem like much when the threat of fighting was ever-present for the decade prior. No wonder the Queen wants to placate them before they could suggest anything. “Queen Lilian’s idea?” He guesses.
Her smile is confirmation enough but she says, “As if it were anyone else's.” They both know how much the Queen and their mother disapprove of Gabriel’s greediness for power, this is probably the most diplomatic move they could make to quash his behavior.
“What did he have to say about it?” Aziraphale can’t help but ask, his curiosity getting the better of him along with a small wish for vindication.
The peel of laughter from Muriel startles him but he can’t help but smile along with her. “Oh, he’s furious. They didn’t even tell him before the meeting, knowing how he’d act. I wouldn’t be surprised if he deserted, though I could never see Gabriel living in a tent, so ..”
She’s still giggling, and Aziraphale takes a moment to enjoy seeing his sister so happy. It’s unfortunate that it comes in the form of losing a family member, but that, he thinks, says more about the family member than Muriel. “No, too vain to give up a title, but it will be interesting to see how he manages to settle into their culture, as brutish a society as they’re said to be. No more fancy suits for one.”
Muriel is still smiling, but he can see a shadow start to cross her face. “I feel there will be a rough six months ahead of us if his attitude at the meeting is anything to go by. Just watch yourself, there’s no telling who he will be taking his wrath out on.”
Aziraphale takes this all in, possible scenarios flitting in and out of his head. He’s so lost in his thoughts he misses the next thing Muriel says, “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Tomorrow. They’ll announce the engagement tomorrow at dinner.”
Suddenly a thought occurs to him. “I wonder if Uriel knows.” Uriel already lived in Astoria, had been sent to marry an Astorian prince two years prior when The Alliance was created. From everything Aziraphale knows she’s quite happy there, her husband having been an unexpected love match once they met, but that doesn’t mean she will be thrilled to find out their caustic brother is coming to join her.
“I’m not sure. Though she has always had a way of putting him in his place, being five years older than him and - in my opinion at least - significantly smarter.” Muriel seems to have calmed back down a bit, the seriousness of the situation having taken over the small joy of a future without Gabriel always over their shoulder.
They sit in silence for a moment before Aziraphale reaches out and grasps her hand. “Watch your back Muriel. I’ve never trusted Gabriel.”
Her bark of laughter echoes through the room, the lack of humor in it raising the hairs on Aziraphale’s arm. “Has anyone ever trusted him?”
Once Muriel has left, Aziraphale sits unmoving, staring into the fire as the embers start to collapse. There are so many ways this could work in their favor and so many ways it could all come crashing down on them. Curling himself up on the couch, his head pillowed on his arm, Aziraphale drifts off with thoughts of war and weddings circling his thoughts. It’s not until he’s fallen asleep that fiery red hair comes back to make an appearance in his dreams.