Chapter Text
The first thing that Xavier notices is how unbearably cold his homeland has become.
Layers upon layers of ice hide the pale cobblestone he remembers walking on centuries ago.
A few hours ago, when Xavier led the spaceship back into Philos' orbit, all the backtrackers were expecting to see the familiar blues and greens.
Not a planet shrouded in grey that pulsed with howling winds and blizzards.
Now, the present-day Philos resembled a scene that looked straight out of a hit winter apocalypse movie — a clear indication of the dying core inside the planet.
A strong gust of wind pulls him back into reality, ferrying some dying snowflakes which eventually settle on his ashen hair.
A sort of welcome back for the returning prince, Xavier presumes. He shakes his head gently allowing some of them to join the whiteness on the ground.
Remnants of a long-passed snowstorm still hung heavy in the air. He tugs the shawl closer to his reddening neck and continues the walk towards the mainland, eager to meet his one and only, his queen.
His lips twitch, parting in the middle just as they always did at the thought of you. But he stops himself before the smile fully etches onto his face.
Because Xavier has always been patient.
He wants you to be the first one to see his incomparable happiness; wants you to feel just how fast his heart has been rattling against the chains, from the very moment he first set foot on Philo's earth.
The walk to the city is quiet.
All of the other back trackers have already departed early to their homes, leaving Xavier alone— as the captain — to take care of everything after their arrival. It also didn't help that no one was present at the launch site, delaying him further.
Maybe due to the harsh weather, or perhaps the city folks received an unannounced pardon from the palace.
(Knowing you, you probably couldn't let anyone work in such terrible conditions.
So kind, like you always have been.)
Xavier ponders as he passes through the main gate, and again not a single civilian is present.
The markets are closed, carefully sealed shut to prevent the frost from creeping into the goods. The pathways are empty, with no horses running through them, and no kids playing hide and seek between the streets.
He can only trudge up the hill and witness the view of his home clearly. It's less foggy up here. He can make out Philo's flag on the peak, battling against the harsh winds.
The main plaza is just as desolate as the city, except for the two guards stationed near the entrance. Xavier scoffs, attracting their gaze. Both of them immediately scramble to stand at attention and haphazardly give the prince before him a bow.
He's shocked that they know who he is, considering he's been voyaging in outer space for almost two centuries now.
Still, his cheeks flush. A bittersweet feeling blooms in his chest: pride.
Were you the one who chanted his name throughout the city in his absence?
Bending forward, Xavier reciprocates just as quickly — all those etiquette practices tugging his limbs before he can do anything. He shows respect to each guard—to the people who protected his people while he was gone, a gentle smile on his lips as he straightens.
“This way, your highness.” One of them motions for him and he follows.
With each step up the stairs, he thinks of you again.
Though his memories of you have long faded along the seams, the feelings that evoked in his heart have been the sole guidance in this arduous and terribly lonely journey of his.
He can still remember the gut-wrenching pain: how his heart twisted every time he couldn't complete the picture of you laughing. How he felt thorns pricking his throat upon realizing he had forgotten your sweet call of his name.
Xavier grimaces at the painful memories flooding his mind. His heart weeps the same again.
But he shushes it.
He'll simply request you to smile again and again until the very image of you is imprinted deep in his mind. He'll just ask you to say his name anytime and anywhere he wants: during lunch, in the barracks, or even in his quarters — if you'd just let him take you there and show you just how much he has wanted you.
Because then again, you'd just do everything to please your prince, wouldn't you?
And he's just as eager to do the same for you.
The palace's main gate looms before him before he knows it. It stands the same as it always has — tall, an attestation to his remarkable lineage.
Decorated with white and gold intricacies that seemed to blink at little Xavier but now appear covered in a sheen of gloss due to the cold, he wipes his fingers against them, droplets condensing on his skin before he grabs hold of the quartz knob.
“Your highness-” A burly guard abruptly halts Xavier's attempt to pull open the heavy gate, for it was already pushing toward him.
The gate opens, letting the golden lights from inside shine on him. Xavier feels the warmth radiating even before you fully step out.
His ocean eyes naturally find your figure, pleasantly surprised to see you dressed in the same clothes he had picked out for your coronation decades ago.
That same gorgeous blue that matches his eyes — his colour that you wore boldly in front of everyone.
Xavier notices how his prestige sits proudly on your head. The crown no longer tilted to the side, a cute little mistake that he himself had to fix countless times before, and many more that the past you, his adorable junior, tended to make.
But the present truly captivated his heart. His queen no longer fumbled with the heavy garments. Something relentless burns in your gaze now as you walks towards him, not missing a step, dripping with such radiance that it squeezed his heart.
Just how long have you been practicing? He didn't dare to ask.
“Welcome home,” you whisper.
Your voice is undeniably soft despite the strong front. His ears can barely pick up the words, but Xavier nods, savouring how the words melt on your tongue. Gently lowering his head, he makes a respectful bow before he allows his eyes to meet yours and lets the memories come rushing, filling in the gaps he longed to fill a long time ago.
You're already smiling, hands reaching out to hold him. He falls into your embrace, face hidden in your shoulder, nosing reverently against the exposed skin—already forgetting the differences in your status.
He breathes you in, nearly moaning at the feeling of your arms clutching his sides.
“Xavier.” He smiles against your skin, piecing together the last bits of his memories before whispering back:
“I am home.”