AN: I know I'm not the only one that ships all of the horsemen together, so why is there very little fic for them?! INTERNET, YOU HAVE LET ME DOWN.

(yes the title is a doctor who reference sshs hsshs shshssshhhhhhhhhhh)

It's Jack she falls in love with first. She knows how stupid and childish and clich├ęd she sounds, but he's everything the little six-year-old Henley dreamed of as she scribbled crayon pictures of herself in princess dresses, and it's almost ridiculous how much of a Prince Charming he really is. He's handsome in the way that ought to be illegal, just the right balance of gallant and wicked, and when he grows roses in the palms of her hands she falls, and he may have been the one to fling her over the edge but he's the one to catch her at the bottom too.

She's always liked Merritt. It's not her fault; she's a sucker for people who can make her laugh, and maybe he's not beautiful and solemn like Jack, but hey, what girl doesn't love a good trickster figure now and then? He tells her everything she's ever wanted to hear and gets affronted when she laughs at him, because what do sugared whispers matter when she knows he's pulling them from between her ears like coins? His indignance at her laughter is almost as adorable as the way he smiles when he catches her looking; she doesn't have to be a mind-reader to taste the truths beneath his words.

And then there is Daniel. She would have forgiven him a long time ago if she hadn't known he'd be an absolute prick about it, and if he's going to hold the Famine card between the fingers of his fame he can stand to do without for a little while. Daniel is frustrating and God he's a dick, but if Henley wasn't up for a little frustration she wouldn't have become a magician. He's like a puzzle she can't solve, and he knows it ("The longer you play with me, the harder I get," he'd said to her once, and she'd locked him in the piranha tank and told him he could very well play on his own if he was going to be that way); and so she does the worst thing to his ego that she can think of, and doesn't even try. The whys and whats and hows don't matter, especially since nobody becomes a magician half as great as Daniel thinks he is without being really good with their hands.

The best, though, is when it's cold and Paris is shining and none of them want to close the windows because the city has been turned to diamonds by the snow, but it's far too cold to leave them open without having to rob a bank just to pay the heating bill. That's what the boys tell themselves, anyways; whatever makes it all right in their minds is fine with her, Henley thinks, because call her selfish but there's no way she's going to make herself only love one. It's stupid to worry about what's "appropriate" when you're internationally-wanted criminals anyways, and so she wedges herself between Merritt and Jack and sticks her cold feet into Daniel's side until he squirms, and Jack braids flickering flames into her long, long hair, and maybe Dylan's wrong, she thinks, because the best sort of magic isn't all that difficult at all.