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Chapter Text

For Sameth, his new duty as Wallmaker was a blessing and a curse. His love for tinkering with odd bits, his hobby of invention, had become his profession. That's not to say the work was easy- he spent weeks attempting to rediscover the techniques of his predecessors, leafing through dusty tomes and studying the intricate structures of centuries-old spells. It was exhausting, both mentally and physically, and he often found himself on the verge of giving up. He would have already done so, if it wasn't for Nick.

Nicholas Sayre, contrary to his best friend's current dilemma, was greatly enjoying his resurrection, newly-baptised with the Charter within reach at last. Almost immediately after he had regained some of his strength, he'd attempted to shatter a pebble to study the journey of force and collision and identify its source. Instead, he set his hair on fire and knocked himself unconscious. Once he'd recovered from that, Sameth decided to take it upon himself to tutor his best friend in Charter Magic. It would be a breeze compared to slogging through volumes of barely useful history written in an archaic dialect. More importantly, he hoped it would help to clear his mind and look at his work afresh; something he sorely needed after hours spent frustrating over some quandary or another.

However, the beginning- getting Nick to properly access the Charter- turned out to be a tricky business itself. He was an eager and bright student for sure, but his scientific curiosity and sheer stubbornness made the process more difficult than it should have been.

"First, I want you to close your eyes," Sameth said, standing opposite Nick in his study room. That command was followed easily enough.

"Now, reach for the Charter. Envision the marks, feel their pull and immerse yourself in them. You can feel the warmth, I'm sure-"

"About the Charter," Nick interrupted, eyes open again. "Where does it come from? What is its source? Magical symbols are all very well, but they must have a beginning!"

So Sameth gave him a brief history of the Charter, the binding of Free Magic. Nick had done some of his own research before and after the Orannis affair, and interrupted to ask questions about channeling energy and a Charter mage's ability to enter the Charter. At first, Sameth was amused by the barrage of questions, but soon tired of the increasingly tedious questions. Finally, keen to end the inquisition, he simply gripped Nicholas's head and touched their Charter marks together. He could have simply touched his hand to Nick's forehead and triggered it, but Mark-to-Mark contact had a greater effect, and he was hoping Nick would just shut up.

He felt the warmth flare up as the Marks made contact, and sighed as he was immersed in the eternal flow of the Charter, its solidity and strength washing over him. Although Sam's eyes were closed, he knew Nick felt the same, heard his sharp intake of breath and felt the slow exhale against his lips. It was both soothing and exhilarating to enter the flow of the Charter so completely.

"The Charter is eternal, Nick," he murmured. "It has no beginning and no end. It is not something to be created or destroyed, but merely returns to the eternal current. It is the essence of the world and its inhabitants, and we are blessed to be able to use it."

Sameth opened his eyes to find Nick watching him, their faces far too close. He pulled back hastily, but Nick still stared at him.

He had to cut their lesson short and leave- he had an appointment with the caretaker of one of the Wallmakers' monuments.

After a few days spent studying and familiarising himself with beginner Charter Marks, Sameth made Nick call up fire on the sandy beaches of Belisaere. As an element, it had one of the easiest Marks to call up, but Nicholas, wary after his first attempt at calling upon the Charter, was having doubts. Sameth reached into the Charter and set fire to a tuft of grass to show him how simple it was.

Unfortunately, he had not anticipated Nicholas's interest in the spontaneous combustion- a grievous and rather idiotic error on his part. Once Nick had cautiously experimented and lit his own fire, he quickly became fascinated with the process, trying to study the chain reaction that lead to the object going up in flames. Sameth had to douse the bonfire Nicholas managed to create even whilst surrounded by sand. But by the end of their time together, Nicholas was able to create a small ball of Charter flames. He shot fireballs into the sea and wiggled his eyebrows at Sameth, who snorted, conjured three, and promptly began juggling them. The look on his friend's face was comical.

Their lessons continued like this. Sameth awaited his sessions with Nicholas with building excitement, happy to escape his work and princely duties. Ellimere hounded him regarding the endless tasks, events and petty issues that came with learning to run a kingdom, issues Sameth wasn't the least bit interested in knowing. Every opportunity he could, he used Nicholas as an excuse to get away, and they'd spend the hours alternately working and laughing at Nicholas's spectacular failures. For Sameth, their time together was turning into the stuff of dreams.

Bittersweet dreams, because even as he wished for more time with his best friend, he found himself constantly putting distance between them. He knew, deep down, that something had drastically changed for him, but he still held a desperate hope that this change would revert to the original, that he would be able to regain that old friendship. The alternative...was unthinkable.

Some days later, Nicholas called Sameth to his rooms for an undisclosed reason. Eager to escape his duties, and curious as to why his friend had been so secretive with the summons, Sameth made his way to the chambers and followed Nicholas into the bedroom. The sudden closing of the door behind him made him jump. He saw Nicholas turn away from him, before the room was plunged into darkness.

Sameth's heart drummed in his ears as he stared into the blackness. "Nick? What are you doing?"

A small, warm glow emanated from where Nick had stood, silhouetting him against the greater darkness. He turned, and it was shining out of his cupped hands. The light grew stronger, illuminating Nicholas's grin as tiny Charter marks pulsed in his hand.

Sameth moved closer, until he was looking down into Nicholas's hands. Dozens of Charter marks swarmed there, glowing golden, throwing the shadows of the two boys against the wall.

"You mastered the illumination marks, then." Sameth didn't know why, but the words came out in a whisper. Something about this accomplishment, small though it was, called for hushed reverence. There was nothing particularly special about the marks Nicholas held- they were ordinary Charter marks of illumination, small, their light weak compared to what a practised Charter mage or even those present in the ceiling above could produce. But with Nicholas cradling them so carefully, so proud of his achievement, it felt like he was cupping the stars in his hands.

Maybe it was the way they made him look. The light bathed Nicholas's face in a soft, gentle light, Charter marks reflecting in his blue eyes and giving him an otherworldly appearance. Sameth would have been disconcerted if it wasn't for the blonde hair that fell before Nick's eyes when it was starting to become too much, messy and charming as ever. He remembered threatening to chop those locks off in school once.

He wouldn't dream of actually ever doing so; they suited Nicholas too well. Absent-minded, unkempt, all over the place, beloved Nicholas.

Sameth took a hasty step back and banged his heel into a desk leg, falling to the floor with a pain-filled grunt. Nicholas startled and extinguished the marks, plunging them once again into darkness.

"Sameth? You okay?" His outstretched leg was kicked with unintentional force. "Sorry."

Sameth hurried to stand, but neither boy could see in the dark, and he was halfway up before Nicholas, reaching down to help him, accidentally pushed him back down. Sameth grabbed onto his arms in a reflexive attempt to stay upright but only succeeded in pulling them both down. Nicholas sprawled on top of him, leaving him winded and flat on his back.

"I didn't think that through," Nick said, laughing. His voice was right next to Sameth's ear- he could feel warm puffs of air with each exhalation, shivering at the contact against sensitive skin. Which served only to turn his attention to the fact that Nicholas's body was pressed full-length against him. He could feel every curve and muscle as though they were his own- he could even perceive Nicholas's heartbeat, his own soaring in guilty pleasure. He wished the moment would last forever. Sameth was pinned down, trapped, overpowered by Nicholas...and loving it.

Too much. He shoved Nicholas to the side and sprang to his feet. Turning around blindly, he hastened to reactivate the Charter lights in the ceiling.

"I have to go now." Sameth struggled to control his voice, keeping his back to Nicholas. Trying to hide his reaction to the chance error, the simple mistake, and the glorious moments that had followed.

He strode towards the door. "Ellimere's forcing me to have dinner with some friend of hers again."

"Sam, is everything alright?"

Sameth paused and turned a fraction. "Everything's fine. Why do you ask?"

Nicholas was on his feet, a look of genuine concern on his face. Nothing else, no reaction to what had just occurred.

"You seem to be rather distant of late. I know you have a lot on your plate, what with the Wallmaker business and your duties as prince, but you seem...reserved. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," Sameth gritted out. "Nothing is wrong." He turned back to the door.

"You do know you can talk to me, Sam. You're my best friend."

Best friend. Best friend. Those words mocked Sameth even as they were used sincerely. He scowled fiercely and finally faced Nicholas, all pleasure forgotten. "Everything is fine. Please stop pestering me now- it's bad enough having to teach you without all the bloody queries! You would be reserved too if somebody constantly badgered you with stupid questions."

The bewildered expression on Nick's face infuriated him. How do you not know? How can you not see? His friend was ignorant, clueless about what being near him did to Sam. How he hated himself for constantly returning to him, but never for long, because as soon as he saw Nick, everything else was forgotten. What made him so blind?

But Sameth already knew.

Because Nicholas loved her.

In the grip of cold rage and dying hope, Sameth turned away. "Find someone else to teach you. I don't want to see your face."

The echo of the slamming door followed him as he fled.

Chapter Text

Time passed slowly without Nick.

At first, Sameth had received messages from him, knocks on his door, and notes slid under the door by the staff, but he ignored them all. He kept himself isolated, contained, afraid that if he set foot outside, he'd break apart. It quickly became apparent to those around him that there was something wrong; even Ellimere treated him with gentleness and patience when he finally emerged from his rooms. Yet soon enough he was forced to confront his responsibilities. They drifted by with barely a second glance from him, all drive and enthusiasm drained away. He sat through dinners with the social finesse of a rock, and work? It was a waking nightmare to endure. If before he'd been frustrated, now, he simply didn't care enough to even try. He'd retreated within himself, thinking of nothing, or thinking of only one.

Nicholas.

It took him a while to accept that his outburst had been completely uncalled for. In fact, he spent so long stewing in his anger and despair that by the time he realised what an impetuous, angry, lovesick fool he'd been, the damage was done; he hadn't seen Nick in over a week. Their lessons had ceased, and Sameth was more alone than ever before, left without the company of even his best friend.

Best friend. A laughable title. He hadn't really thought of himself as Nicholas's best friend for a long time. During the silent stretches of time alone, in bed, on the parapets of the castle, in his workshop, Sameth was assaulted with memories of their time together, and the gradual turn his affections had taken.

When they'd won their first major intra-school cricket tournament, Sameth had been fifteen. He and Nicholas had glowed with the praise showered upon them, basking in the glory of their triumph. They were paraded around on the shoulders of their classmates. In fact, they spent so long exclaiming over their victory that they were the last two to enter the changing rooms and shower.

Somersby was an all-boys boarding school, a place where modesty quickly lost all meaning. They'd seen each other naked countless times; it was nothing new. That day, flush with victory, Sameth had turned to say something in the middle of undressing and caught sight of Nicholas, head back and eyes closed, letting the water pouring down wash over his face. He revolved so that the spray hit his shoulders, sighing at the hot pounding spray, his blonde hair plastered against his scalp. Sameth spoke his piece, Nicholas grinned, and they'd quickly finished in the room, heading out to celebrate with their classmates.

That night, Sameth had found himself unable to sleep. Nicholas snored in the bed beside his where he'd collapsed, thoroughly drunk, an hour ago. But Sameth's body still buzzed with the memory of their match and the celebration afterwards. His hand absentmindedly crept under the waistband of his trousers. The act had become second nature to him, the heightened impulses still going strong for the fifteen year old. But as he worked himself to the apex, Sameth's mind began to slip from his usual fantasies.

Blonde hair. Wet blonde hair. Rivulets of water chasing each other over a smooth, flat chest and abdomen, down, down-

Sameth smothered the grunts with his palm, pleasure battering him in waves. Afterwards, he rolled over and went to sleep with only the faintest feeling of unease.

It had been the first of many similar instances. But they weren't simply carnal urges; for once, he saw his best friend as more than just that. At home in Belisaere, at Somersby, he was struck by how smart, talented, handsome his best friend was, and how deeply he was falling in love with him.

He received the note a few days later- Nicholas would not be meeting Sameth for their sessions anymore. Upon further, tentative inquiry, Sameth discovered that Nick had found someone else willing to teach him- he would no longer be troubled by him and his questions, the final missive informed him. The stinging sarcasm in that last message reminded Sameth once again of his folly, although it was mixed with a small amount of relief at the news that Nicholas was still within the castle. The urge to grovel for forgiveness was intense, but perhaps this was for the best; he was getting too close. After everything, after Orannis and Nick's death and rebirth, even now, Sameth couldn't say anything.

You're my best friend. Best friend. Nothing more. And not even that anymore.

Weeks passed. First one, with Sameth desperate to avoid encountering Nick. Then another, with Sameth being less cautious, no longer afraid to bump into the curiously-absent Nick. Then a third, with Sameth wondering where exactly Nicholas had gone, and eventually the month came to a close. Sameth found himself wandering through study rooms, practice halls and the library multiple times, hoping to come across Nick.

The castle was big, but not so big that he wouldn't see him for a whole month! Where could he be?

He finally received an answer from the staff that both eased and exacerbated his worry. They informed him that Nick had moved to the West wing, on the other side of the castle, and rarely went out. Only his tutor saw him with any frequency.

"And who is his tutor?" he asked.

"The Abhorsen-in-Waiting."

Lirael was teaching Nicholas Charter Magic.

He was at the walkway connecting the wings before he remembered making a conscious decision.

Lirael was just helping him learn, the rational part of his mind argued. Teaching him the way of the Charter. Seeing his face light up as he mastered a simple spell. Patiently answering his tiresome questions. Laughing when he messed up spectacularly.

Sameth forced himself to stop. Stop thinking, stop walking, and consider the situation. There was no doubt about his feelings, but Nicholas didn't feel the same way. He had only ever seen him as Sam, his best friend, and nothing else. He had no right to interrupt them, to oppose whatever was between Nick and Lirael. He knew this, but still he couldn't quiet his heart.

A treacherous thing, the heart. So irrational, so whimsical that the mind dismissed its fantasies without a second glance. Yet when it fell for something, it was with the fire of a thousand suns, and nothing, not logic, reason nor common sense could deter it.

Well, if he wouldn't believe, why not see the truth with his own eyes?

Maybe then he'd stop hoping. A broken heart would be easier to handle, he thought bitterly.

When he arrived, the door to the West wing's library was ajar. He entered to find several books open on one of the tables, along with papers riddled with Nick's spidery handwriting. Formulae, equations, calculations all trying to make sense of Charter magic, Sam could see. And other papers filled with Charter marks, spells, uses and results. Typical Nick- couldn't leave his schoolroom habits behind even when learning magic, he thought with a twist of painful nostalgia.

Sameth frowned, leaning down to take a closer look at the Charter spells. These were rather advanced for a beginner in Charter magic, although Nick was a fast learner. Not only that, but the marks, their sequence, looked oddly familiar, tickling a long-ago memory...

"Sameth, what brings you here?"

He looked up. Lirael stood in the library entrance. Evidently she'd just returned from a trip; she still wore her bells and mail, but her sword was absent.

With a sinking feeling, Sam realised she had come straight to the library upon arrival. Straight to Nick.

"I...was just looking for Nicholas, to see how he was getting along. With the learning, that is."

"I thought you didn't care?" He flinched. Lirael's tone betrayed only curiosity, but her words reminded Sameth of his rashness toward Nick.

His chest tightened with irrational anger. "I do care. It's just that I've been so busy, what with the Wallmaker business and my duties as Prince..." Sameth trailed off. Lirael was a daughter of the Clayr, Abhorsen-in-waiting, a Remembrancer, and half-sister to the Queen. She had a heavier burden than Sameth ever would, but she still found the time and patience to teach Nicholas. His excuses hung flimsy and insubstantial between them. The anger dissipated, replaced by the feeling of shame he'd grown accustomed to over the past few months.

Sameth didn't deserve him. Nicholas had eyes only for Lirael Goldenhand, the Old Kingdom's saviour. Beautiful, brave Lirael. When he had someone like her, why settle for anything less?

Lirael's eyes moved from him to the papers on the table, her expression changing. She came forward and shuffled the papers together, slotting them into a book which she took under her arm.

"That's some advanced magic," he remarked weakly. "What's the spell for?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, such and such. Just something we- I mean Nicholas has been working on. He's made great strides in his learning. I give it a year and he'll be on the same level as an average Charter Mage."

"That's... that's excellent. You're a better teacher than I'd ever be.

"Maybe he should've been with you from the beginning."

The words slipped out unbidden. Sameth reddened, but Lirael just frowned and shook her head, oblivious.

It was true, regardless if she didn't understand why. Maybe Nick should have told Lirael how he felt months ago. Maybe if he'd done that, Sameth wouldn't have nearly let slip how he felt about his best friend. Maybe he wouldn't have pushed him away, and they wouldn't be so distant today.

"I think Nick's in the Inner Garden Room right now. He'd mentioned going there the other day." she continued.

"Thanks, but I think I'll leave him be. He probably isn't interested in seeing me right now."

Lirael scrutinised his downcast face, a knowing look cast upon her own. "I think he is."

An attendant came in and ushered her away before he could ask what she meant. After a while, he left too, wandering aimlessly through the walkways and corridors, passing guards and attendants, maids and errand boys, all with a purpose. He stopped at the statue of his grandmother and sat down on the bench underneath. People moved around him, some glancing at him curiously, but most just headed to where they were going.

The Inner Garden Room was a vast chamber one floor below filled with grass and flowers and trees. Lirael often went there because it reminded her of the Clayr's inner gardens. Sameth used to go there because it was quiet and peaceful. He liked to watch the birds flit from tree to tree, illuminated by the slowly moving hybrid Charter/mechanical sun and moon far above.

He wondered why Nick was there. Maybe he was practising his Charter Magic. Or writing more notes, studying the Charter spells within the room and their various purposes. Or maybe he was simply lying back on the grass, his eyes closed, his body relaxed, for once enjoying the world around him rather than picking it apart.

Sameth stood and started walking, trying not to think too much about what he was doing. He was just going to see how far he'd come along. That was all. He descended a narrow staircase, then turned right into a narrower corridor. He was not going to apologise. He was not going to beg for his forgiveness. His heart began to drum, excitement and apprehension and a deep, urgent need to see Nicholas threading through his limbs and propelling him forward. He stopped himself just short of crashing through the chamber door.

Pathetic. He was pathetic.

Sameth paused. It really was pitiful. After all this time, after the endless deliberation, the firm decisions, the promise to let go, he was back here, eager for what meager scraps he could gather. Would that ever change? Or would he be stuck in an endless, torturous loop of wanting what he couldn't have?

He pushed the door open before he could change his mind.

Chapter Text

Inside, the cherry blossom trees were in full bloom. The roses and tulips, too, had opened their petals, along with the violets, starflowers, rhododendrons and countless other flowering plants. Their cycles were not dictated by season or climate; they were in perpetual bloom, a riot of beautiful colours and scents. Lirael had told him that the chamber was actually half as big as the ones in the Glacier, and more cheerful. High above, the smiling, benevolent face of the sun cast its light upon everything, highlighting the fading reflections of Charter Marks that floated like dust motes about a hunched figure.

Nicholas's head was bowed over something in his lap. He frequently consulted a paper beside him, bobbing his head between the page and the mysterious object. Sameth surmised that it held Charter marks- whatever Nicholas was making, it needed a great deal of spellwork. Marks floated up and around him, joining the others that were slowly fading. Curious, Sameth moved closer to where he sat.

The door closed behind him with a solid boom. Nick jerked and swore, mangling the pronunciation and drawing of a Charter mark. There was a bright flash from whatever he held and Sameth caught a glimpse of something streaking up into the trees, disappearing in its leafy branches.

Nick stood and turned around. The surprise on his face was a better reaction than what Sameth was hoping for. But it was quickly hidden behind a guarded politeness that pained him to witness.

"Sam. How did you- what are you doing here?" His hair fell over his eyes over his eyes in its usual disarray. Sameth's hand twitched, wanting to push it back, just as it had for years. Nicholas was dressed simply in Old Kingdom garb. His laced shirt was gaping at the collar, exposing skin whose tan was quickly fading from being cooped up inside for so long. He had stubbornly brought his Ancelstierran wardrobe with him over the Wall, only to watch in dismay as it unravelled stitch by stitch on the journey to Belisaere. In the end, he'd had to borrow some of Sam's clothes temporarily- in fact, this was one of the very shirts he used to work in, with the stubborn grease stains at the sleeves and dabs of paint on the front.

Nicholas still looked at him expectantly and Sameth knew he was fast running out of excuses for being places. He tried to avoid his gaze, eyes drifting down to the exposed skin again. It was no new sight, nothing indecent, yet the smooth span brought heat to his cheeks.

"Well, uh, I wanted to visit- that is, I came to see- I just wanted...to see the flowers. And trees. And birds?"

"Oh. Right. I see." The pretense was shamefully transparent, but Nick didn't call him out on it.

The memory of their last meeting made Sameth want to curl into a ball. All assurances that he wouldn't regret his actions dissolved; he'd been so foolish, letting his fears control him, lashing out at the one person he loved above all. Sameth wondered desperately if there was something he could do, something he could say, that would erase those hateful words. But not even Charter magic could fix all of life's problems.

Nicholas looked down at his feet, pushing his fair hair up and away. It fell right back to where it had been, but he didn't notice. He never did; playing with his hair was a nervous habit, Sameth had realised years ago. He tugged absently on a forelock as his eyes darted to the tree in which the mysterious object had vanished.

"So, what are you working on? I didn't think you were into crafting."

"No," Nick laughed. Both were consciously avoiding the elephant in the room. "That's always been your thing, hasn't it? Do you remember the time you tried to make my typewriter change colour as I typed?"

Sameth remembered with great amusement and undying embarrassment. Magic was weak beyond the the Wall, and non-existent further south; the spell had failed halfway through with a change in wind direction, and their room had been covered in rainbow ink for weeks. Nick had cursed and pummelled him before keeling over with laughter at their appearance. "We were called the twin clowns for the rest of the year," he snorted.

Looking at him now, grinning like he had back then, the memories of their friendship warming him, Sameth realised that wishing for things to change would never work.

If Nicholas confessed his love for Lirael? Sameth would still not stop wanting him. His creative, inventive, outlandish best friend had stolen his heart long ago, and nothing could change that fact. The remnants of his smile disintegrated.

Nicholas, sensing the change in mood, looked warily at him, as though fearing what would come next. Sameth took a deep breath.

Nicholas held his hands up. "Wait. Please wait."

"No-"

"Please, Sameth. Just wait. I know you're angry at me, and busy with your own worries and responsibilities, but please, for my sake, listen to me."

Sameth had to confess the truth, he knew, to make it clear to Nick that they could no longer be friends. That he could no longer see him as only a friend. This was the best thing he could do. Apologise, confess, and part ways. But, ever the fool in love, he conceded.

"It's almost ready. I was just putting the final touches to it when you came." Nick looked sheepish. "I was supposed to send it to you later, so this may be slightly- actually, it will be completely humiliating and I will be utterly mortified." He walked over to the tree and whistled softly, holding a hand up to the branches. Something shifted and moved down, and Nicholas quickly grabbed whatever it was.

He placed the object in the grass and picked up the paper with the marks, whispering in deep concentration for a minute. Marks appeared with increasing frequency, burning gold as they surrounded the object on the ground. Sameth could see marks of recording and movement, of sound and...harmony? The sequence looked more and more familiar the longer he studied it.

The golden glow grew brighter still as Nicholas called upon a master Charter mark to bind the others together, dropping the paper to dedicate his full attention to the task. Sam noted the strained concentration on Nick's face with growing concern; although the marks were fairly safe and only moderately powerful, this was advanced magic for someone who, mere months ago, could not control a single simple Charter mark.

Then, with one last pulse, the light died down. Nicholas blinked rapidly and swayed on his feet. Sameth rushed to steady him, but he exhaled and shook his head, bending down to retrieve the object

"Please, just look." Nicholas uncurled his fingers.

Nestled in his palms was a small bird, its head tucked under one wing. But this was no ordinary bird; it was made of wood and Charter magic, marks chasing each other across the surface, before settling into the wood and disappearing from sight. The figure was rudimentary, inexpertly but lovingly crafted. It lacked the detail of a professional's hand, but the work that had been put into it was evident, and Sameth finally understood why it was all so familiar.

"That's my bird!" He cried. The bird he'd carved years ago when he was still an amateur, planning to gift it to Nick on his birthday when he returned to Ancelstierre. But the project had failed his expectations, and he'd arrived at school with disappointment and an inanimate block of wood. Nicholas had encouraged him not to dwell on the bird, and eventually Sameth forgot about it and the associated frustration.

Nicholas whistled. The bird shivered, removing its head from under the wing. It blinked, large, liquid black eyes regarding the two of them with curiosity, before bursting upwards with a sudden, powerful movement. Too sudden, too powerful, it turned out; the force of its flight stripped the cherry tree of some of its blossoms, and the startled flight of the real songbirds helped dislodge even more. It flitted around the room, exercising its wooden wings, the creaking audible above the startled chirping of the disturbed creatures, blossoms swirling high above them, caught drifting in the Charter-infused atmosphere.

Nicholas cursed. "It's not meant to do that. At least, I think it isn't." He glanced at Sam. "Is it?"

Sameth shook his head. That had been the problem with the bird- it had been an attempt to create an artificial messenger bird, like the spelled messenger hawks Nicholas had expressed interest in. But Sam could never perfect its movements, or carve the features to make it more bird-like, more realistic. His need for perfection, his wish to give Nicholas something truly remarkable, had failed. Especially when he'd realised Nicholas wouldn't be able to use it far beyond the Wall.

Finally, the bird came to perch on one of the branches near them. It shivered, opened its beak, and Nicholas's voice came out.

"Sameth, this message is long overdue. We've been friends for over a decade, you and me. And never once have I thanked you. Thanked you for being by my side, for listening to my madman's ravings and outlandish ideas- yes, I know what the people think about me. Never have I thanked you for caring so much, for telling me no when I needed to hear it, and for encouraging me when I needed it the most. You have been the best friend a man can ask for. Thank you for being there for me.

"But the one thing you've never been able to do is see just how brilliant you really are. You are constantly trying to bring out the best in others, but you never believe your best is enough. It takes time to get something right- don't give up on the first go. You are a vital, irreplaceable part of countless people's lives. And to prove how much I mean that, behold the performance of a lifetime!"

At this point, Nicholas groaned, covered his face and turned away.

For a moment, the bird was quiet. Then, Nicholas's voice sounded again, humming a very familiar tune. He began to sing.

It was their school song, as it had been for generations. But Nicholas crooned through the whole thing, a quiet, gentle performance unlike their robust belting in Somersby. It transformed the song, turning it from a schoolyard cacophony into a sweet lullaby. Nicholas had transformed the song into something else entirely, something otherworldly. Sameth was enraptured. As the final syllable faded away he blinked rapidly, speechless.

The bird closed its beak and shuffled on the branch. Nicholas slowly lowered his hands, eyes averted from Sameth. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the bird began singing again. Except, this time, it wasn't Nick's voice; the pure, high notes were its own rendition, devoid of words, copying the melody of the song.

The other living songbirds picked up the melody and joined the wooden creation, harmonious and achingly beautiful, until the chamber was filled with the wordless, enchanting melody.

"Didn't expect that to happen," Nicholas murmured. "Seems your project was more complex than I remember."

There are moments in life where one can feel the turning of the wheel of time, the rise of something epochal, historic, life-changing. Some run from these moments, fearing the change to come. Others stand and watch the dawn of a new day, not caring if the light burns them to ash. Sameth watched.

"You threw away your bird and spellwork, but I kept them," Nick remarked quietly. "I know you saw that project as a failure, when it was just another lesson to be learnt. You never did give yourself enough credit."

Sameth stared at him, could not stop staring as the chirping died down. Silence filled the space again.

"I love you," he whispered. Then, stronger. "I love you, Nicholas Sayre."

Nicholas stopped shifting about. The colour drained from his face until he looked ready to collapse.

Sameth moved closer. Nick didn't react when he clasped his hands. "I have loved you for so long, but refused to accept it. I love you with all my heart. You make me so happy it hurts, and the notion of losing you makes me feel like I'll shatter into a million pieces. I cannot imagine a life without you."

Nick remained expressionless, as though oblivious to what was happening. Then he opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it. Looked away, his jaw tightening.

"What I said last time... I didn't want to believe the truth glaring at me. I was scared that you wouldn't feel the same, that you'd never want to speak to me again."

He sank to his knees, resting his forehead against Nick's belly, feeling the warmth radiating from him. "I thought I'd lose my best friend along with the love of my life. But, after all this," Sam urged softly. "After the bird, the song, the message, can't you say you feel the same?" He knew, as he looked up, that every ounce of his love was visible. Sameth was completely vulnerable. But whatever came next, he was also ready for it.

Nicholas glared down at him. He disentangled their hands, pulled him up by the scruff of his neck, and punched him across the jaw.

Before Sam could do anything beyond grunt, Nicholas grabbed him and crushed their lips together, a jarring, abrupt union, only pulling away when he thought his message had been fully received. He held on tightly, as though afraid to let go.

"You goddamn idiot," Nick breathed. "You damn...fool. I have loved you forever. As a friend...and more. There was never a moment where I didn't feel like you were my other half. All this time, and you said nothing? What were you thinking?" He kissed Sam again. This time, it was soft, gentle. A sweet, almost innocent kiss.

It was Sam who pulled away this time. "You never said anything either! You make me believe you're infatuated with my aunt, and then disappear from sight for a whole month. What was I supposed to think?"

"The problem is that you think too much," Nick muttered, pressing their foreheads together. Their Charter marks flared, warm, comforting. "We both do. If we'd learned to listen to our hearts it wouldn't have been so damned hard to get here. But... I guess there are some lessons you have to learn the hard way."

Sameth paused. He couldn't help but laugh at such a profound statement coming from his best friend. Nick joined in. It was the laughter of joy, release. There was no more pain, no more subterfuge and hidden feeling, and they kissed again, because there was nothing left to say.

As they became more and more lost in each other, the forgotten cherry blossoms floated down around them, blanketing the chamber and the two lovers, together at last.