Summary: What starts as dramatic complaints turns into breathless laughter, stolen kisses in falling snow, and the Prince of Hell discovering that mortal joy is reckless, intimate, and utterly magical… especially when it’s shared with her.
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Caliban always insisted he didn’t feel the cold. Yet, somehow, he looked personally offended by the frosty wind as it bit across my cheeks and pushed stray flakes of snow into his perfectly styled hair.
“This is… unnecessary.” He muttered, brushing snow off the shoulder of his coat as if the flakes were deliberately targeting him.
I grinned and tugged his gloved hand. “It’s festive!”
“It’s freezing.”
“Festive.” I repeated, firmly.
Caliban leveled me with a dramatic look, the kind reserved for mortals who clearly didn’t understand his suffering as a Prince of Hell. I would’ve felt bad, really, except for the fact that his nose was just the tiniest bit pink, which was honestly the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! Besides, I had a plan. A magical, mortal plan.
We’ve been dating for almost three months, long enough for me to get used to the casual way he conjured flames, snapped his fingers to summon cocoa, or occasionally muttered about reshaping the Earth like it was a weekend project. But short enough that I still caught him studying me like I was something rare and confusing. A mortal girl. His mortal girl. Which, for the record, still made my stomach flip.
But something else had been flipping lately, winter depression. The town of Greendale had been buried in snow for days, and I’d been climbing the walls. I needed air. I needed something magical… And I had the perfect idea.
“Y/N.” Caliban sighed, letting himself be tugged along through the snowy woods.
“Mortals do realize that we have broomsticks and portals, right? If you wanted the thrill of speed-”
“Nope!” I said. “Today, Caliban, you learn about mortal holiday magic!”
He blinked. “I thought mortals got their holiday magic from… stress? And capitalism.”
I laughed. “Well, okay, yes, but also… this!”
I stopped, triumphant, in front of the object of the day’s adventure. A sled. A bright red, slightly beat-up wooden sled. Caliban stared at it as though I had just unveiled a cursed relic.
“That…” He said slowly. “It's a plank of wood.”
“It’s a sled.”
“It is… unimpressive.”
“Wrong.” I said, picking it up and brushing snow off the bottom. “It’s iconic.”
He looked at me. Really looked like he was trying to understand where the magic was supposed to come from.
“So…” He said. “What do you do with it?”
“We ride it.”
“Down… the hill?” His eyebrows shot up. “Voluntarily?”
“Trust me, you’ll like it.” I said, softer this time.
His shoulders loosened. The faintest smile tugged at his lips.
“I tust you.” He murmured.
And that right there warmed me more than any winter coat could.
Getting Caliban on the sled was a victory of its own. He inspected it. He tested its weight. He muttered about mortal physics and snow density. But eventually, he sat behind me, arms gingerly wrapped around my waist as if the sled might explode.
“This position feels… intimate.” He said near my ear.
“That’s how you know you’re doing it right.”
He huffed out something that might have been a laugh…. Maybe, if I squinted.
“Ready?” I asked.
“No.”
“Perfect!”
I shoved off.
Caliban’s shout echoed down the hill, half horror, half exhilaration, as we picked up speed. Snow sprayed around us, wind tore at our hair, and he tightened his arms around me so fast it forced a giggle out of me. We hit a small bump, and Caliban cursed, in Latin, obviously. But then… then, I felt it. He laughed! A real laugh. Bright and breathless, shocked by his own joy.
When we slid to a stop at the bottom of the hill, the world spinning slightly, Caliban looked… different. Eyes wide, hair full of snow, and mouth pulled into the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on him.
“That was-” He gasped. “-impossible. Mortifying. Completely irresponsible and-”
“Fun?” I teased.
He paused.
“...Fun.”
I lit up. “See? Mortals have magic too.”
Caliban shook his head slowly, then he touched my cheek. His thumb brushes away a snowflake.
“You are the magic.” He said, voice soft in a way he rarely let it be.
Before I could even respond, he leaned in and kissed me. His lips were warm, the snow was cold, and our breath mixed with the winter air. My heart did a while firework display in my chest. When he pulled back, he whispered.
“Again.”
I laughed. “Again?”
He nodded fast. “Again. And again. And- Y/N, why are mortals not doing this constantly?”
“Oh, they do.” I said, grabbing the sled.
An hour later, Caliban was shouting ‘MAKE WAY FOR THE PRINCE OF HELL!’ as we barreled down the hill on our fifth ride, and I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. He tumbled off the sled dramatically at the bottom, limbs splayed, and groaned.
“I have never felt so alive.”
I flopped into the snow beside him. “Welcome to mortal joy, Your Majesty.”
He turned his head toward mine, eyes warm despite the cold.
“Thank you.” He said quietly. “For showing me this.”
“For sledding?”
“For… everything.”
Warmth bloomed in my chest again, gentle and glowing, the exact kind of magic I wanted him to feel. Snowflakes drifted around us, and the hill glittered. Caliban laced his fingers with mine, and for once, he didn’t look like the Prince of Hell. He just looked like a boy in love. And honestly? That was the most magical thing in the world.
