While re-reading Wicked Lovely and Fragile Eternity, I was really intrigued with the relationship of Beira and Keenan's father, Miach. So I decided to write a little fic about them. Well, here it goes. XD

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I. White Queen

On such a breathless night as this

Upon my brow the lightest kiss

I walked alone

And all around the air did say

My lady soon will stir this way

In sorrow known

The White Queen walks and

The night grows pale

Stars of lovingness in her hair

Needing- unheard

Pleading- one word

So sad my eyes

She cannot see

- "White Queen" by Queen

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She was cold, indifferent, and implacable and the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. In all the decades he'd been Summer King, and of all the females he'd had, mortal and faery alike; she captivated him like no one had. Her guards flanked her, her Hawthorne girls walked beside her and she stood there in the middle, her dark eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

"Beira." He greeted, bowing his head. His informal use of her name caused more than a few fey to stir uncomfortably. But he ignored them. After all, he was the Summer King.

She smiled wickedly at him and curtsied low to the ground, her silver skirts rustling to the floor. "My lord." She looked up at him through her long lashes. "Fancy meeting you here, Miach."

He smiled back, though his fey twittered uneasily behind him. It was a great deal chillier with the Winter Queen standing before him, especially with her addressing their King so informally. He however ignored the mist radiating off her skin as she stood up, crunching ice in her hand. Her displays of power only amused him more.

"I could say the same, Your Highness." He extended his arm for her, as was custom. Although their two courts did not agree on much, it was still the faery way to be polite. But Beira only danced around him, graceful as always, like she was skating on ice.

"I imagine this weather is most pleasing to you." She taunted sweetly, gesturing toward the summer night sky, clear and humid. Her fey stood, uncomfortable in such warm temperatures. Beira however seemed unfazed.

The Summer King knew she was simply putting on a show. The Queen of cold was an actress as well as a monarch. It could be argued that she was far more advanced in the former position than the latter. But only a faery with a death wish would tell her this.

"A perfect night for dancing." Miach replied evenly, keeping in step with her as she started to walk down the path. It was a beautiful night. The summer court had needed a night out in the woods to admire the beauty of the season. The Winter Court's unexpected visit was certainly a reason to interrupt that night.

"Have you been out by the ravine?" Beria asked innocently, her dark eyes looking up at him in the dim of the full moon. Her face glowed with ethereal beauty, pure and deadly at once. "It really is tolerable, I suppose."

He laughed at her. "Are you feeling well? You seem more pleasant this night. Are you ill?"

She feigned a glare at him. "I don't think it wise to mock me, Your Majesty. My mere touch will send shivers down your spine."

She ran a long, white finger down his bare arm, indeed true to her words. His golden hairs stood up on his sun-bronzed skin, and he had to remind himself that she was as untouchable as she was dangerous.

"Needless to say, I am not all thorns." She smiled slightly, looking ahead of her. "The ravine is the only decent place left for me in this wretched season. I can freeze the water and skate until dark. Free of my court and their pestering."

The Summer King looked at her. They had both walked until they were now a few feet away from both their courts. Looking at the Winter Queen who was walking beside him, he could see the faint glimmer in her eyes. There was something odd in her voice, something he had never heard before.

Then she turned to him. "I really cannot fathom this strange season. Why would you want the awful sun beating down on you?"

"Why would you want the awful snow beating down on you?"

"The snow doesn't leave you feeling hot and exhausted."

"No, it makes you feel numb and depressed."

They had stopped walking now and were standing before a large clearing. Beira turned away from him, flipping her thick black tresses back. She had tied it back with a ribbon, her crown of ice perched atop her head and now she seemed more affected in the humid air. She sighed and lifted her hair from her neck.

"You and your summer love. It always fails to explain itself to me. Perhaps I'll never understand your odd passions."

She glanced up at him, a quizzical look in her eyes. "I don't think I want to, either."

"Perhaps you haven't been dancing in the summer night? Maybe that will help you grasp the beauty of my court."

Beria wrinkled her nose. "It does not sound inviting."

She was right. They were of two different worlds. Hers was a place of quiet and calm, white snow and blue ice. His was filled with everything she'd never known; music and dancing, laughter and lovemaking, fierce passion and freedom. He could not picture her, in her tight fitting silver gown, the skirts flying about her as she twirled in circles. And yet, something inside him wanted to see her like that.

Without another thought he called his court musicians. "We'll show you just how inviting we can be."

The summer court had a large number of musical fey. Rowan-people and wood sprites and many others. They gathered before their King and bowed, glancing a little at her direction.

"Let us show the Court of Winter what it means to be a summer fey."

The golden king sent a wistful look her way, his eyes shining with sunlight. She had never seen any faery shine so. His golden hair glimmered in the moonlight behind him. He was a summer fey, she reminded herself. He was all heat and no reason. A fool.

"What shall we play, my King?" A green-eyed sprite asked, holding her tambourine close to her. She blushed as she stood before the beautiful fool, and Beira felt a sudden urge to push her to the ground and smash her instrument to pieces. She concentrated on releasing some cold to her fey instead.

"Play that one you played at Midsummer's."

The sprite bowed and left to join the other summer fey who were off in the clearing. Beira stood at the edge with her court as King Miach started toward them as well, turning back and smiling wickedly at her.

A pretty little nymph with bright yellow hair grabbed his hand and whisked him away while others draped flowers around his neck. The music started then, fast and wild, yet so beautiful that even the Winter Queen had to admit it. Her fey stood, some watching curiously others looking disgusted. Beira herself was watching the Summer King twist the yellow-haired sprite in his arms. He was laughing, the muscles in his sun-bronzed arms visible as he suddenly lifted the sprite off the ground and twirled her around like a flower in the wind. Her skirts flew about her and she screamed in glee.

It was oddly entertaining to watch, the fey who laughed and danced about. Some rowan-men had left for the river to their right and were jumping in. They splashed at some winged female faeries on the bank, who cried out in a sudden thrill. They took flight and dove at the rowan-men in the water.

But Beira turned again to the golden King and his partner, who was now a dark-haired faery with leaves in her tousled hair. She wore a revealing gown made of nothing but vines and leaves. It was an odd feeling that frosted its way throughout the Winter Queen's body. She hated the carefree faery before her, whose body moved against his in ways Beira never saw. She had never felt such rage. She wanted to reach out and bruise that tawny colored skin of hers, to feel all the warmth leave her body as ice splintered through her veins.

Briskly, she turned and walked away. She could sense his footsteps behind her, like the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

"Leaving so soon, Beira?" Her name on his lips sounded like a whispered sin, something she hated and relished at once.

"Fortunately I have other duties to attend. Your little festivity is not one of them."

He was keeping in step with her, despite his puzzled fey behind him. Some guards followed him, still aware that their king was in the company of the Queen of the Winter Court.

"It seems we have offended you."

At that Beria stopped, her court seconds late, sending each other alarmed glances. Their Queen was never so abrupt, not like she was now. Even she was a bit surprised. She smoothed her gown skirts, composing her face.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?" She looked at him without the slightest of emotions. Her face was still, of that she was sure. "Your court has not been offensive in any way."

"I am truly sorry you must leave." He replied instead, bowing his head. His hair glistened and she fought the urge to feel it between her fingers.

"Well, I am not." And with that she left quickly, her court trailing behind her.

She felt the Summer King's eyes on her even as she walked away, burning into her silver figure. It was a night that became whispered about through all the courts. The Summer King and the Winter Queen, walking together under the dark summer sky. It seemed like Hell had frozen over, and Beira was walking on it.

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"My lord, just what transpired between you and the Winter Queen?"

Miach looked at his trusted advisor, Tavish and smiled. "You would know. The whole court is whispering about it."

"Yes, but the whole court is not a reliable source."

Miach merely shrugged. "We talked. I showed her our court. She left."

"Yes. That is odd, my liege. Just to remind you, Beira does not walk with many faeries. In fact, the last faery who accompanied her on a trip to the woods was never heard from again."

Miach just smirked. "Poor lad. She's a succubus, I'm sure of it."

"Hardly, Your Highness." Tavish replied, offering him a drink. "What she is, is devious."

"A fact I am well aware of, Tavish." The King sipped his drink. "But I did not reveal any secrets of the court, my friend."

"Not at all, my king. But she has another agenda, I am sure. It is best to be on your guard with her. Especially since summer is almost over."

"Aren't I always on my guard?" Miach asked, settling on a large chaise. His court had taken up residence in an old abandoned palace he had bought. Several of his fey had brought beauty to it once more, filling it with summer's joy.

"My lord, do not think that smiles and long lashes mean goodwill."

Now Miach was serious. He looked at Tavish. For all his friendship with his advisor, he was still his King. Tavish was wise and patient, an excellent advisor. He was now suggesting that his King was being taken in by Beira's charms.

"Enough Tavish." He ordered, sunlight spilling through the room. "I am well aware of what I am doing."

Tavish bowed his head. "Of course, Your Highness."

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"Your drinks, my queen."

Beira slapped the silver tray of ice-cold drinks from the sprite's arms, sending them crashing onto the ground. The sprite jumped slightly, but did not move. She had a pretty face; big black eyes and plump red lips. Half of it was covered with large black and blue blemishes that were barely starting to fade.

"Enough of that, Bláithín." Beira said, disdainfully. "I am in no mood for drinks."

The sprite was quiet, not bringing up the fact that her queen had asked for the drinks herself. It did no good to contend with the Winter Queen.

"I am in the most foul mood," Beira complained, her dark blue lips seemingly childish in their pout. "All because of that wretched Summer King."

She stomped her foot and threw the closest thing to her. It was a delicate white vase, all the way from the dunes of India. It shattered against the wall, echoing throughout the large estate.

Beira could not live far from the cold, and the mortal world did have lovely snow. The faery Courts had chosen Ireland for many purposes. It was where the mortals had worshipped them and their kin. In addition, there were many old castles to choose from.

"I cannot fathom Miach at all. Does he honestly think I shall bend to his every whim?"

Bláithín stood silent before her queen, content that she was invisible. But Beira did not forget her presence. She turned to her.

"Tell me, Blyth." Beira said, a little more gently. "What is being said about the courts?"

Bláithín hesitated.

"Oh come now, Blyth. I know you must have heard something."

"They say the Summer King has unbraided you. That you are turning soft."

"Soft? Is that what I seem to them?" Beira's eyes blazed. "Do they think I cannot rule my own court now?"

Bláithín shook her head fervently. "No, my queen. Of course not. It is only the whisper-work of malicious summer fey. Nothing more."

Beira stroked the small sprite's cheek comfortingly, soothing the worn bruise. "Fret not, little flower. I shall never lose control of my court."

She sent small icicles down the sprite's cheeks. "I shall never lose Winter's touch."

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Bláithín: blethyn, bleh∙thin

Just had to clear up her name. I had trouble with it at first, but I love the Gaelic language (even though I can't speak it for beans) and choosing her name was fun. :) Anyway, I'm trying to finish the next chapter but there's so much summer fun to be had. Hope to update soon. :)