FROSTBITE • mikaelson mate

chapter one: tea and butterflies

CHAPTER ONE
tea and butterflies

I always cry when it snows. I watch it fall from the safety of the kitchen, clutching a mug of scorching tea as I stare out the window. Since that frightful day, nearly thirteen years ago, all reminders of it seem to agonise my soul- all reminders except Henrik.

I nearly jump as I feel hands snake around me from behind before relaxing into the embrace.

"Did you microwave your tea again?" Henrik asks playfully, his lips brushing my ear, causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin. There has always been a certain amount of chemistry between the two of us. Since he saved me all those years ago, Henrik has been my best friend, although I've always felt a deeper connection to him. I know he feels it too- the attraction simmering between us- but it's as though there's an unspoken vow between us, urging us not to persue it. We're both too fucked up for a romantic relationship.

"What?" I ask, my voice coming out as a whisper as I lean back against him.

"I asked if you microwaved your tea again." He said, taking the cup from me before I had a chance to figure out what was happening. I turned to find him leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping my tea before his face scrunched up with disgust. "You did!"

"There's no way you can tell that!" I laughed, grabbing for my tea but he held it above his head, out of my reach.

"Yes I can!" He said with a smile as he watched my jump to grab the mug, "It tastes iffy!"

I gave up jumping and crossed my arms, trying my best to look angry, which was incredibly hard to do. Henrik was a ray of sunshine. With a chuckle, he handed me back my tea and I took a sip.

"I honestly can't tell the difference! Besides, I can't be bothered to wait for the kettle to boil." I shrugged.

"You need to have more patience, Morgana." He told me, booping my nose.

"And you need to care less about tea." I shot back playfully.

I placed my mug on the counter, my eyes snapping back to the window as though I'm drawn to the snow. In a way I am drawn to it, the same way I was the day I ran from my foster father and into the snowy woodland.

"Morgana," Henrik said softly and my eyes snapped back to him, "Everything is going to be okay."

That had been our motto since the day we met. We'd both had a traumatic childhood prior to that day, ones we didn't talk about- even to each other. The day he saved me was a reset for both of us, what happened before that no longer mattered. Since that day, we were in and out of foster homes together. When Henrik was 18, he left and took me with him. Through all those years we knew everything was going to be okay- as long as we were together.

"I know, I'll be fine." I told him with a tight smile.

I sighed and made my way into the small living room. Our home was small, but we owned it. After working our asses off for years, we could finally afford a place of our own. It was incredibly run down when we bought it 6 months ago but we had really enjoyed fixing it up.

I sighed as I fell back onto the sofa and Henrik sat down beside me

"Morgana?" He asked tentatively. Henrik's hand reached out and his thumb gently stroked the scar on my chin. He did that often, as if the thought of me being hurt agonised him and he wanted to erase all my pain- both past and present.

"Yes?" I said, noting the way his eyes seemed to dim.

"There's something we need to talk about." He said quickly and my heart sank. Whatever he wanted to talk about wasn't good news. Henrik bit his lip and looked down at the floor as if he were drawing from inner strength.

"What is it?" I asked, failing to keep my voice steady.

His hand dropped from my chin and his hands grasped mine. They were sweaty and shaking ever so slightly. My own heart pounded and I found myself leaning into him for comfort.

"I've been debating how to tell you this..." He began as I frowned at him as he let go of my hands, "Actually, it's probably better if I show you."

Confusion flooded through me. What could Henrik possibly want to show me?

"Did you get a tattoo?" I asked, only half joking, desperately racking my brain for ideas. A bemused expression appeared on his face as he let out a small chuckle.

"No, Morgana, I did not get a tattoo." Henrik said with a nervous grin as his hand gently stroked my cheek before falling back into his lap.

"That's a shame, you'd look hot with one." I said before I could stop myself and my eyes widened as I slapped a hand over my mouth. I felt heat rise to my cheeks and looked down at the floor, feeling Henrik's loaded gaze.

I'd just toed the line we'd silently agreed never to cross. I took a moment to compose myself before slowing looking up at him. He was studying me, his gaze inquisitive and something else that I couldn't place. Our eyes met as though they were drawn together like magnets. I couldn't read his expression but something about it made me think that Henrik was thinking about me in a way that friends shouldn't.

Breaking eye contact, Henrik cleared his throat and murmured, "Good to know."

"So, what is it you want to show me?" I asked, getting back on topic in an attempt to distract myself from the way I felt when he had looked at me.

"Right," Henrik said, his calm composure breaking as he tapped his foot on the floor before pointing at a cookbook that I'd left on the sofa, "Pass me that book."

I sent him a confused look but complied and passed it to him. He sent me a shy smile before opening the book and tearing out the pages.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I shouted, lunging to save the innocent book but Henrik placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Trust me." He told me and after a moment I nodded, falling back on the sofa as I watched him tear out the remaining pages.

Henrik placed the empty shell on the book on the table in front of us before standing up and walking to the centre of the room with the pages in his hand. "Ready?" He asked with a small smirk and I nodded, still incredible confused but very intrigued.

He threw the pages in the air but they didn't fall the the ground. They remained there floating as Henrik out his hands as if he were... controlling them.

My mouth gaped open as stared, transfixed by the floating pages. Henrik winked at me before clicking his fingers and the pages began moving. They were folding into various shapes and I gasped as they all formed origami butterflies. They flapped their wings and flew around the living room as I gazed in wonder and disbelief.

"How?" I asked Henrik, who was standing casually in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets.

"I'm a witch."

I blinked, waiting for Henrik to laugh and tell me he was learning to be a magician or something. When the laugh didn't come, I stood up and walked towards him. A paper butterfly landed on his shoulder and I reached out to touch it. It flew over to me and landed on my arm. I looked up at Henrik to find that he wasn't looking at the butterflies, he was looking at me.

"You have a lot of explaining to do."

Originally published: November 24th 2022