She finds Seraphina dusting her study.

“My lady,” Seraphina greets as Aster closes the door behind her. “How was your meeting with Her Majesty?”

“I think it went pretty well.” Aster flops onto her bed, scrabbling around before managing to grasp a pillow. She hugs it to herself, sitting up to tuck her chin into the down. “She’s such a lovely person.”

“Her Majesty?”

Aster nods. After a moment, she says, “Say Fina, what do you think makes a good queen?”

Seraphina gives her a curious look. “With all due respect, I don’t think I’m qualified to answer that sort of question, my lady.”

“That’s fine. I just wanna know what you think.”

Seraphina pauses in her dusting to ponder it over. “Then… someone who genuinely cares for the kingdom and its people, I suppose.”

“Boo. That’s a boring answer.” Aster laughs at the flat look that Seraphina throws her way. “What about grace? Beauty? The ability to play the piano while balancing ten hardcover books on your head?”

“I think someone who possesses all those traits is certainly very impressive,” Seraphina says, much too accustomed to Aster’s brand of humour at this point. “But personally, I think even those talents cannot outshine someone who is of good heart and sensibility.” She flashes Aster a hint of a smile. “Still too boring, my lady?”

Aster shakes her head good-naturedly. “Nah. It’s perfect- just the kind of answer I’d expect from you.” Her gaze trails from Seraphina to the open windows. Belatedly, she notices that the candlestick she’d dropped on the floor yesterday is now back on her study table.

“Say Fina,” she says. “What do you know about the royal mage’s apprentice?”

“Sir Damien? Why do you ask?”

“Well, I saw him while I was on the way back from my meeting with Queen Annaliese. He seemed to be very engrossed in a conversation with the maids.” Aster tries to keep her amusement out of her face as she recalls her encounter at the walkway.

“Well, what you see is what you get. Popular, sociable, helpful. Not a day goes by where I don’t hear someone singing his praises.”

“You don’t like him,” Aster says point-blank. Seraphina’s as straight-faced as always, but there’s something about the way she speaks about Damien; like she’s wholly unimpressed.

“Compared to the rest of my peers, I must admit that I’m not as fond of him.”

“Why not?”

Seraphina’s mouth seems to tighten at the corners. “It’s… rather complicated, my lady.”

Oh?

Aster tries to keep a lid on her curiosity, even as she can feel it beginning to hook its crooked claws into her skin. Will Seraphina answer her honestly if she tries to pry further? Perhaps she will, if only to heed Aster’s words as an order for her to follow.

But that wouldn’t sit right with Aster. Despite the distance between Seraphina and her growing closer over the past weeks, they’ve never actually discussed anything too personal. Never talk beyond third parties or other matters or ‘the friend of my colleague who’s sister said this’.

Aster decides to let the matter go. “I see,” she says easily. “I’m sure you have your reasons.”

Seraphina ducks her head. “I apologise, my lady.”

“Oh no, please don’t apologise!” Aster waves her hands. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Seraphina. Just because you serve me doesn’t mean you’re obligated to tell me everything that goes on in your life.”

And before things can get awkward, Aster launches into an account of her meeting with the queen, teacakes and cookies and all.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

After excusing herself from her room under the guise of a ‘prior engagement’, Aster makes her way to the east entrance. Damien’s already there, leaning against a pillar by the entry as he waits for her.

“Hey there, stranger,” Aster says once she’s in earshot.

Damien looks up. “Oh? Lady Vastein,” he says demurely, righting himself up to drop into a perfect half bow.

Aster makes a face at him as he rises. “Oh please.”

The look on Damien’s face is all innocence. “Isn’t that your title, my lady? I couldn’t possibly address you with anything less than befitting of you.”

“Damien Nox, I will hurl on you.”

He finally cracks a smile at that. “Wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He sets off down the path, slowing so Aster can fall into step with him. “Sorry about earlier, by the way.”

Aster shakes her head. “Nah, it’s fine. I know why you ignored me. It’s not like the folks around here have warmed up to me much either; wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea about you.”

Damien frowns. “You know that’s not why I did it.”

Aster shrugs. “It’s still true, though. You already have enough on your plate as it is.” She can’t keep the self-derision out of her tone as she says, “The last thing you need is a rumor about you being overly acquainted with the cursed young lady from House Vastein.”

Damien’s frown only deepens. “Aster-“

“I know what they say about me, Damien.” She sighs. “How can I not?”

Perhaps she is sheltered somewhat, thanks to all that time she’s spent cooped up within the confines of the Vastein estate. But Aster is not blind, nor is she deaf. She knows what the whispers that follow her entail, can guess at the conclusions people draw up with a mere glance her way.

Damien scrubs a hand through his hair. “Alright, first of all, I’m more worried about what my reputation could do to yours. Besides Han, no one else knows I used to live in the Vastein Estate. If I started being overly familiar with you, people wouldn't hesitate to run their mouths. The last thing I want to do is kick off a rumour about you being unfaithful to your fiancé- and with a witch at that.”

“You say witch like it’s a bad thing,” says Aster.

“And you say cursed like it’s actually true.”

“Touché.” She wrinkles her nose at Damien.

After a week of touring the palace with Seraphina, the path they tread now is one that’s familiar to her. A smattering of snow dusts the grass surrounding them, a vestige from the previous night’s light snowfall. “For the record,” says Aster. “I’ve never thought of witches being bad.”

“I know.” Damien sounds faintly amused.

“Actually, I’ve always wanted to be a witch.”

“I know,” says Damien, a single word laden with exasperation. “How could I not? You were so determined to be one that you almost broke your neck.”

“It’s not like I was trying to do it on purpose!”

“Right, because that makes it so much better.”

Damien ducks away from the elbow Aster jabs his way.

Growing up for Aster was… an ordeal. As soon as she was old enough to make sense of the world around her, she’d found herself clutching at pieces of her life she never really knew what to make of.

Why was the colour of her hair so different from her parents’? Why did people look at her strangely whenever she ventured into town without her hood up? And why couldn’t anyone else besides her see the spirits on the estate?

In a time where nothing except her worst assumptions seemed to make sense, Aster decided that hiding away was the best solution. She became acquainted with every shadowy nook and hidden crevice within the estate, never daring to leave home without a cloak to cover the terrible frosty white of her hair. Her interactions with other people dwindled down to a small, trusted circle: her father, her mother, and her personal maid.

Then Damien appeared.

Damien, who arrived in the form of a scraggly, fever-ridden cat; who turned out to be the snappiest, brattiest boy she’d ever have the pleasure of meeting.

There was something about Damien that drew Aster in, like a gust of cool wind in the summer heat. Something about this boy with his fortress-like guard and his constantly raised hackles.

Maybe it’s because he was the first. The first person who looked past her appearance and dared to pick fights with her at every chance he got. The first person who introduced her to her first brush with a different kind of magic; warm and curious, instead of sharp and hostile. The first person who she could safely call her closest confidante, somewhere down the line of their endless bickering and Aster’s dogged persistence at bringing his walls down.

“Cursed?” He’d echoed confusedly the first time Aster had brought it up to him, high up in the branches of the oldest maple tree on the Vastein grounds. “What in Hale are you talking about? You’re not cursed. If you were, I’d be able to tell.”

Aster laced her fingers together. “But… then why’s my hair so weird?”

Damien snorted. “That’s not a curse you dummy. You’re just malnourished.” Aster had squawked in protest while he cackled, their voices carried away by the wind. “Imagine thinking you’re cursed just because your hair’s white. What an idiot.”

“But people are always staring at me!”

“You’re Aspen Vastein’s precious first daughter, of course they’re gonna stare.”

“And-And I can see the spirits!”

“So what? I can see the little runts too, you’re not special.”

Aster huffed. “But you have magic!”

“You could too, you know.”

Damien, who’d been idly flicking through one of Aster’s fairytales, failed to catch the way her face lit up with desperate hope.

“Me? I… I could be a witch?”

Damien snorted. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“It is! It means… I’m not cursed!”

“You were never cursed, princess. Get that into your head already.”

But Aster was only half-hearing, mind already racing with possibilities. “If I’m a witch, that means… I can do what you can!”

“Hey now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty gifted for my age.”

Aster stuck her tongue out rudely at him. “How would you know, you’ve never been around other witches.”

“Well I know more than you, that’s for sure.”

Aster pulled a face. Look at him getting all cocky, just because he’s a little good at magic. She could be just as good as him! No, better.

Because in that moment, it all made sense to her. If she wasn’t cursed, then she had to be magic. It would explain so many things: like why she could see the spirits and why they were so mean to her, and why her hair was such a strange colour.

But… if she really was a witch, then why hadn’t her magic come to her yet? Why couldn’t she control the wind like Damien could, or turn into animals just like him? Was she just a slow learner? Would she have to wait?

She didn’t want to wait.

She was tired of waiting. Tired of hiding.

She wanted her magic now.

Damien’s attention was still fixed on the storybook, gaze flitting idly over the pages. By the time he’d bothered to look up, Aster had already gotten to her feet, swaying slightly as she balanced precariously on the maple branch.

“What’re you doing?” Damien frowned. “Keep that up and you’re gonna fall.”

But Aster barely heard him. “I can’t wait around for my magic to come,” she murmured, gaze latching onto the ground below. “If it won’t come to me, then I’ll make it come.”

That’s the way it worked in the stories, right? The protagonist always managing to unlock their hidden potential, whenever they needed it most.

Aster could do it too. All she needed was a leap of faith.

“Princess-“

A single step and Aster was falling, air rushing past her as she hurtled towards the ground. And all the while she’s trying, willing, wishing for something to surge up within her, for the magic to course through her veins and save her from shattering her skull against the earth.

Instead, what she felt was a tight grip clutch around her middle, jerking her back as she’s suspended mid-fall.

“You idiot!” Damien seethed, arms wrapped around her torso. “What in Hale were you thinking?!”

“Let go of me!” Aster wriggled furiously against his grip. Why was he getting in her way? How was she supposed to summon her magic now?

“Stop struggling you dolt, it’s hard enough for me to keep myself afloat, now I have you as extra weight-!“

They dropped abruptly through the air, a string of curses streaming from Damien’s mouth as Aster screwed her eyes shut.

Now! She could do it, she could save them-

They jerked to a stop, frozen in the air. Aster blinked her eyes wide open.

Below her was the ground, only a mere scant inches away from her nose.

Did she do it? Was she the one who kept them from-

The ground surged up, welcoming her face-first.

“Oh shit-“ Damien scrambled off of her, helping her sit up so he could check for injuries. “Shit, sorry, I couldn’t hold on for any longer and I just barely kept us from turning into pancakes on the ground and- wait, why am I apologising? You idiot, why would you think that throwing yourself off a tree would make you a witch?! Have you so little regard for your own life that-“

He froze, shocked into silence by the stream of tears coursing down Aster’s face.

“A-Aster?” He ventures hesitantly. “What’s wrong? Did you get hurt? Are you bleeding?”

Aster shook her head. “No… No, I-“ But she was unable to continue, words breaking off into hiccups. Suddenly she was bawling, sobbing so hard that her shoulders shook with each breath.

How could she explain that it was more than just her bruised nose or her stinging cheeks? That what hurt more than the scrapes on her palms, was the cold hard truth.

Aster wasn’t magic. And maybe she’d never be.

It had been a hard pill to swallow at first; to clutch at her puzzle pieces and realise that she still didn’t know how to fit them together.

But her fall through the sky made her realise something else: she wasn’t alone anymore.

Because now, she had Damien.

She turns towards him now, gaze catching on the side of his profile.

“Like what you see?” His eyes slide towards her, smile turning lopsided.

“Ew.”

He laughs as Aster wrinkles her nose at him. “Then what is it?”

“Well, it just occurred to me- even though you were so worried just now, isn’t it bad for us to be seen together like this?”