Bitter cold and snow gave way to a luxurious midday white soon enough. And even a grand castle only has so many interesting features before any variety of occupants would like a breathe of fresh air. And Michael had to do something since nobody would give him any idea of where the library was.

They dined on porridge that morning, Prince Ben in unusually good spirits. Michael was still trying to figure out the polite way of bringing his uncle up, so as not to enrage Ben more than he had. Michael had noticed that Ben's injuries were healed, but that the scabs on his arms seemed to be a permanent part of his skin now. The ins and outs of magick seemed too complicated for him to understand.

Michael had never seen such pure snow in all his life. It mounded over fountains and floated on the air when the ottoman pounced on it. It was thick enough to stick when you nearly fell in what would have been a hole, but soft enough that you didn't mind. And the mugs of hot cocoa waiting by the door didn't hurt either.

The staff had spared no expense in making sure Ben and Michael had warm clothes. Michael's traveling cloak had been replaced by a fine blue jacket, slim against his frame but flexible enough that he could push a pile of snow off the top of the railing and not tumble over with it. Prince Ben had chosen another cloak, this one from an old mother deer who he said one of the staff had found passed away near the gate.

The early winter songbirds were out. They were not particularly pretty, almost a same hue of grey as the sky and yet they had a clearer song and more pretty notes to sing. They swooped down to Michael's fingers as he whistled his own note and landed on the snow, cocking their heads at the human. Emmett found some stale bread for them to feed the song birds and soon Ben and Michael were in a contest to attract the birds.

It was evident who they preferred, only because Ben's scowling face and impatient demeanor scared them off. Michael merely shook his head when Ben became cross and started to curse, coming over and putting his hand over the top of Ben's, guiding him in how to bring the birds in patiently. Truth be told, Michael's way worked too well. Pretty soon, Ben was escaping to the garden maze so that he could lose the birds.

Ben found the snow in the garden maze to be exceedingly fresh and packed it down into balls. A grin spread across his face as he playfully missed hitting Michael's shoulder with soft snowball. Michael noticed the snow whizzing by and ran to take cover behind a gnarled tree. Ben lost sight of him soon after, for Michael was wiley, and soon enough Ben found himself covered in snow while Michael looked over the top of the maze, having built a snow staircase and brushing the heavy topcoat off of the top of the maze.

The day ended with a lovely dinner of cornish hen and a strong jasmine rice, all set to candles and firelight. It was warm in the castle, enough that Michael just couldn't sit around. Ben, sensing the restless spirit, suggested that he might show Michael another part of the castle, but that he would have to close his eyes as he was lead there, for it was a surprise.

And indeed it was a surprise for Michael. It was the most beautiful library he had ever seen, as tall as all the levels of the castle combined. The walls glowed alabaster white. There were railings of real gold and the smell of leather spines permeating the place. There were globes strewn about in deep browns and a couple long tables in which to spread out selections. Michael could have hugged Ben in that moment.

Ben merely shrugged, afraid to bask in the radiant smile. "This was my parent's place, almost as sacred to them as their own dear chapel room, which I've closed down-all things considered. I hadn't ever had much use for this room. I never learned to read."

Michael's back was turned to Ben. He was still trying to take in the room. "Why did you not learn with such a place as this to learn from?"

Prince Ben shrugged. "I was never inspired and always indulged. My tutors were ever too afraid to lift their voices to me, a trait which did not bode well in the long run."

Michael turned, looking Ben in the eyes. "Well, I'm not afraid. And I would think anytime would be a good time to learn the joys of the printed word. We'll have a fire and find a book I know you'll enjoy!"

"I'm sure I would enjoy it more if you would read it to me," Ben broached later as they sat by the fire, on a hearth rug.

Michael hadn't voiced that, though he'd thought of it. "I would be afraid to. How else would you learn?"

Prince Ben tucked his knees under his feet, making himself more comfortable. As he leaned into the fire, his shadows warmed in orange and red, making his eyes strong and light. "I think I could learn anything from you."

And so it was. How much time passed? As much time as was needed to create love, which was not long for two men locked away together in a castle and only books to read between them. It came to pass that Lindsay noticed how closely they would sit, huddled together with Michael reading and Ben asking questions. It startled her the first time she heard a genuine laugh from her master. It had been even longer since that.

Something was changing in both Ben and Michael, but Michael always had the thought of his uncle in the back of his mind. If only his uncle could be here, could see the change...ah, well, Michael was never one who knew how to change what had happened. He only hoped the best for his uncle and that he was safe again, and not too worried about his own dear Michael.

There was one thing that Prince Ben was better at than Michael, other than long, awkward silences where he would stare off into space. Prince Ben could waltz. He taught Michael in the drawing room a few times, stiff and proper as an instructor should be. But not as he wished.

Later, Ben stood in his bathroom, looking at his face in jagged pieces of his mirror. His eyes were the same shade of blue they had always been, his bulked-up form more lean than he could recall the last time he had looked at himself...and yet, a smile. He wanted to tell Michael how he felt, how things were changing for him. He had encouragement and hope from the staff, even cautious words coated in hope.

Time was so short though. There was no doubt in Ben's mind that no other chances were coming and yet he was afraid. He didn't have solace in religion or even himself. He only had the spell and the long years of anguish in recent memory. This hope and warmth, and love, was not coming easy to Ben. That was, until he saw Michael on the stair case.

Prince Ben had allowed Emmett to pick his wardrobe and Emmett had done a fine job. His hair had been combed back into a stylish coif, ended with a simple plait of his hair. He wore a striking blue blazer to match his eyes. But he paled in comparison to Michael. He had forgotten what grand things were in this castle.

Michael wore something he had found in a room adjacent to his own. The door had required some force, but the dust and cobwebs had been worth finding the gold-plaited cuffs on the simple white shirt which had glowed against his skin. Daphne had found a striking red silk tie to match, deep swirling reds that Michael could have sworn wore a hint of brown to them.

When they finally made it into the ballroom after a simple dinner of winter stew and crusty bread, Ben found that his hands were shaking when Michael took them in his own. Michael looked up at Prince Ben and smiled, causing Ben to gulp. He had taught Michael to waltz, but waltzing with Michael was something different, something unexpected.

Ben wondered if Michael could feel the change in his heart rate when he put his head against Ben's chest. Ben knew he was still cold and that he might never feel warmth again. That old nagging guilt about dragging someone down with him resurfaced and he thought about Michael's family and how they were sure to come, were sure to bring the village to tear him down. He both wished for and cursed that.

They danced until they were tired, resting on the balcony. It was a clear night, warm enough from the dancing to make up for the brisk, diamond-studded sky.

"You dance well."

Michael smirked, his hand reaching out to rest on the balcony. He didn't flinch when Ben put his hand over that one. "I had a wonderful instructor."

They sat in silence, neither sure which direction the conversation was going or should go. But they both knew where they wanted it to be. "Michael, are you happy here?"

"Yes!" Michael blurted out, far too quickly. "I mean, yes. I am cared for and have more books than I knew existed, but..."

"However?" Ben gulped. He was afraid of what might come next.

"I just can't help but think about my uncle, if he knew all that I know now and have seen..."

Ben felt relieved that Michael was simply worried for his uncle, and even Prince Ben could understand that. He would be frightened for a family member left in the care of a brute such as he was. "There is a way. There is a magic mirror here that will allow you to see him."

Michael furrowed his brow. "I thought you had smashed all the mirrors in the castle."

"All but this one. It allows me to see anything I wish, except for the one who might break the spell."

"I couldn't ask..." Michael shook his head, he didn't want to finish his thought. That night in the West Estate was still a sore subject for him.

Ben snapped his fingers and Emmett approached with the mirror on a rolling cart. "You don't have to." He reached for the cool silver mirror slowly, handing it to Michael with fear and reverence. "I'd been thinking that your uncle must think you too far gone now, seeing as how you haven't escaped me."

Michael looked at his own reflection, nodding. "You gave him many reasons to worry." He caught himself to late, looking up to see Ben gazing far into the distance. "I mean..."

Prince Ben shook his head. "Its alright. I...I understand. Do you wish to be alone?"

"No," Michael responded calmly before taking a deep breath. "I...I wish to see my uncle Victor, please."

The mirror glowed a garish light so that Michael had to look away just briefly. What he saw did not shock him at first. He saw his uncle, warmed by firelight. But then he saw the traveling hat atop his head and one of Brian's nags resting nearby. His uncle was pale and coughing still, in fits that surely threatened to throw him from any horse.

"No," Michael whispered.

"Is something wrong?"

Michael shook his head. "I don't know. He's still ill and not recovering. He is looking for me, I have..."

Prince Ben looked as though he were about to burst into tears instead of Michael. "You must go then. I...I release you of your debt."

"What?" Michael said shakily.

Ben bit down on his lip. "I could not live with myself knowing that I never repaid the kindness that you paid me. I give you your freedom."

"Oh...."

The air hung long between them and it was clear that Michael was torn. But he couldn't stay either, it would change him too much. His uncle did need him and that could not be denied. Ben bit his tongue that only five petals remained on the magic rose, and once they fell he would have no chance of being cured.

It was enough, to be silent. To have Michael kiss his cheek in gratitude and to tell him thank you in a sincerity which Ben had never known before. To howl as Milady crossed the gate, frightened from the echo of the howl itself. Michael now had possession of the magic mirror. Ben would never use it again.

Michael never forgot the feeling of riding hard the first time out of fear, but this second time was different. The air around him was warmer and he was floating through paths, criss-crossing the forest with the presence of mind that only loved ones possess. Everywhere he listened close, he could hear his uncle's cough, harsh against the wind.

Michael knew that Victor was not at home based on what he had seen in the mirror. So he strained for the true sounds of coughing and activity, the errant clop of a horse. And what he found both frightened and intrigued him. It started with a low orange light that bathed a portion of forest and then a camp of people, men teeming to work and prepare a battering ram from a thick, old trunk that might have been as old as the enchanted castle itself.

Victor was off by himself, worn once again at being the center of the fervor. He was leaning against a tree trunk and darting his eyes around nervously as though a spectre were going to come for him at any moment. Michael lighted off of Milady and approached slowly so as not to startle him and alert the whole camp.

When Michael's hand peeked through a low fern in order to tap his uncle on the shoulder, Victor nearly gave out a shout. Michael let go of the reins to cover Victor's mouth

"Don't shout."

Victor could not speak for a moment, afraid to turn as though it was not Ben but Michael that was the spectre. "It could not be. Not unless you are dead."

"Come, turn past this tree just here and judge for yourself."

They embraced for a long moment, Victor holding him hard as though Michael were going to escape. "My own dear Michael. Come, we must celebrate your freedom from that cruel place! We will have a celebration!"

Michael shook his head slowly. "Is that what all these men are here for? A celebration or for my freedom?"

Victor stood, dumb founded. "Your freedom, of course. I shant forget that cruel master or how he ripped us from each other so easily. I..." the words stopped there because of a succession of coughs that only Michael seemed to notice.

Michael led Victor down into a sitting position. "Come, my uncle, you must rest. Sit here. Its no wonder you were sick, coming after me so. We must get you home and rest for awhile."

Victor reached up for Michael's cheek. "Oh child, I can only rest now seeing that you are safe. To think of that man..."

Michael shook away the comforting, cool hand. "Don't think of Ben that way, dear uncle. You musn't. His cruelness was only a facade, a product of a life under the spell."

"What are you saying?" Victor stuttered out as a voice called for him, clearly from Brian who was leading the creation of the battering ram.

"Don't tell them I'm here, just get all these people back home. Please."

Uncle Victor knew it was useless to resist Michael's puppy dog eyes. He agreed reluctantly, with the addendum that they would "discuss this once they were safely alone."