This is a one shot following the story Between Heaven and Earth, that happens a few or so years after the war ends. Can be considered part of epilogue, but could be read alone. Enjoy!

XxXxXx

A gala sways in a southern Kingdom, where men and women, creatures of day and night, fae and alike come to celebrate and dance the night away. Bonfires light the pathways along the rolling hills, with dark-skinned, and light-haired fae swinging to the beat of drums. Deeper, into the heart of Seelie territory is the boy King made of flames.

He walks around his home in a tailored suit that looks to be crafted of night, with hair that far outshines the sun. The man smiles to his guests, friends, and family, but those close to him can see his impatience. His hands twitch idly, as though they are meant to be holding something, and only those with knowing looks seem to understand what the boy King is going through. After all, he is seeking the one as cold as the galaxies she crafted.

Regardless, he gives pleasantries, and his people return them. The people of the reborn Goddess give them as well. They watch the boy King closely, some wondering why their Lady chose such a man, others allies that are watching his back. A General with hair as red as a blood moon moves into the boy King's path and grins at him, a promise and a threat; true comrades. They clasp arms, and if one looks closely, the scars littering their hands almost seems to reflect one another. They have seen battle together, and triumphed where one would not expect them to, and for that they have grown stronger and closer.

They move from one another, just as several people in the room: a King of frozen blossoms, an eastern dragon hidden under the guise of a gentle Queen, the blood moon General, a fiery Yukionna, and the burning King, look to the room's double doors. They open with barely a whisper, and still, the whole room falls into silence. All turn expectantly, and they are not disappointed.

She steps forth, a primordial goddess, in such a young body, only centuries old. Her hair falls to her chin, black as night, and atop her head sits an antlered crown of pure ice. Her lavender gaze roves over the crowd, the lightest of smiles adorning her features, and she halts at the top of the stairs, only to incline her head. She says nothing still, and they can only watch her, mesmerized. She's dressed in a gown of sheer gauze, painted from the shadows between the stars, and like the stars, flashing diamonds litter the bodice, before trailing along her skirt. The antlered Goddess straightens naked shoulders back, head tilted upwards as she descends the stairs, still watching, until her eyes land on a burning star.

The boy King can feel her calling to him before her gaze ever fully finds him. The air around him chants softly; come, come, your goddess awaits, and he knows it's polytheism to worship the creature walking towards him, but the King cares not. As she descends, he finds his feet moving towards her, disregarding the fae that move from his path. Some watch him, some watch her, but they can only watch each other. Pale, curvaceous legs eat up the distance between himself and her, and he remembers kneeling, in another place, at another time, but still to this girl, and he has to restrain himself from doing so again. The feat is nearly impossible, she holds all of him, and he cannot fathom how he had gone hundreds of years without her.

They meet at the final step, and the boy king cannot help but incline his head to her, missing the slight twitch to her lips. The red-haired General spots it, and cannot help but notice how far gone the burning King is. He would most definitely go to the ends of the world for this hime, do anything and everything for her. She raises a delicate hand, and to those unfamiliar to her, they do not realize the trust the boy King has given, baring his neck to her when she could easily run her blade through it. She does no such thing of course, she could never bring herself to harm him, and merely places her hand onto his bright hair. It runs down the side in an intimate gesture, fingers curling through strands, before falling back as he stands.

They smile to one another then, and he holds his left hand out to pull her towards him. She acquiesces almost immediately, and they turn away simultaneously, the whole room finally released from whatever spell they had become entrapped in. The boy King curls his other hand around her waist, and there is no reaction from the hime but a contented smile. They move as one, seem to exist as one, as they make their way through the room to speak with the others.

It is only much later, when all the others have left, and the boy King's room is the only witness to the two, that they become one, joined together as though they were crafted from one since the beginning and are finding themselves back to where they belong. In the aftermath, curled against him, is when the antlered Goddess reflects with a smile. They think that the boy King had fallen first, succumbed to what she was, but she knew better. It is fire that melts the ice, after all, not the other way around.