a/n: So, first ever fanfiction and all that stuff...I'm pretty sure this is going to suck though.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Tinkerbell franchise and/or any of it's characters.
A snowy white owl soared through the cold air; icy glaciers and snow capped mountains streaked by underneath in a blur. Unlike most owls, this one had a rider perched on it's back; hunched against the force of the wind.
Most days it's rider would've stopped by now; gotten off to complete one job or another and then hop onto the next place. Today was different, today, it's rider had a specific place in mind. Though he would've liked to arrive there at a slower pace, at the moment there was another blizzard dumping heavy amounts of snow down on the Winter Woods, making it harder for his owl. And, well...it took a while to get from his home on the North side of the mountain to the meeting place that had been set in his summons...it was approaching sunset already.
Summons.
He'd been...summoned.
In the distance his eyes, experienced after so many years of this weather, could see the border coming up. Three, four more strong flaps from his owl and he could barely see the outline of...her.
Today had been a normal day, or at least-what counted as Pixie Hollow's new version of normal. He saw to his fairies, ignored the worried looks, attended to his own duties, ignored the sick feeling that spread farther throughout his body everyday, talked briefly to Dewey, ignored the whispered rumors, saw to the half-hearted preparations for the upcoming winter, and-most importantly-ignored the way he couldn't seem to help his eyes from looking in the general direction of the warm seasons.
One would think, that the amount of time he'd spent ignoring his urges today (more like the past centuries), that he would've been so very happy to have one of his few guards deliver a note to him today. Written on an iced, dark green leaf, the likes of which they never saw in their land, were directions.
Directions...orders...a request?
Either way, here he was, the border closer than it was before. The amount of snow falling down was lighter here, although the heat from the warm seasons didn't make it past the border, it was cooler the closer you got. Making it...easier for him to be more visible to the figure waiting on him. While he was still in the thick of the blizzard, he gave a soft command that his trusty owl heard and responded to.
Tucking his wings closer to his body; they descended sharply and quickly. And with little help from himself (dizzy from the quick change in position; he slumped weakly against the soft downy neck, relying on his owl) his trusty friend landed them softly in the cloak of the trees.
He gave himself a moment, just one. He doubted she could see him through the gloom of snow and trees, and even if she could-after so long, all he was asking for was a minute. Just one so that he didn't land flat on his back in the snow.
With a deep, shuddering breath he braced himself before sliding off his perch, thankfully landing gracefully on his feet. With a pat that was more to reassure himself than his owl, he stepped out of the forest.
And she was still there; huddled on that ageless log, he noticed that she kept carefully to her side of the distinct line. Good, that gave him room, distance to carefully hide his reaction to her appearance.
Gone was her wonderful sparkle, no glow illuminated her like he remembered, and yet still she was beautiful. Her dress that was suppose to flow with pixie dust was a sickly gray, and though he couldn't see for sure-he was positive that her beautiful wings would be the same color. Dressed in those colors, and with her chestnut colored locks free and flowing, she looked as if she could be a winter fairy.
And yet while her lifeless appearance made his sick feeling spread throughout his body, his heart was pounding in his throat. Because...she was here, he was here, after so long...and so many years...
He stepped forward, out of the bank of snow and onto his side of the log...(He really tried to tell himself that he didn't notice how the fading golden light from the dying sun made her blue eyes shimmer as she looked at him.)
...So close, and yet...so far...
"Hello Milori."
"Hello Clarion."
Her delicate hands fidgeted in front of her (Milori noticed, tried not to-but did, that they looked thinner if that were even possible), and she cast her eyes down to the log under their feet.
"I didn't think you would come," she murmured lowly. So low in fact, that he had to lean forward slightly to hear it.
He stopped the words that he wanted to speak in response. Though nothing was the same as it had been all those years ago, one thing was still there-
He was a Winter sparrowman-Lord of the Winter Woods in fact.
She was a fairy from the warm seasons-Queen of Pixie Hollow.
Titles aside, this border they stood on either side of represented one truth...At the end of the day, when sun set over the horizon, they would go back to different worlds. Unable to be together, lest they bear the consequences.
And they were already suffering enough.
Things were wrong in Pixie Hollow. A mistake had been made, and now the only thing they had to deal with were the effects from it. Effects that showed in every fairy that was currently walking instead of flying, but-more importantly-in the lines of the their Queen's face. Every shade darker her dresses got, every second she got thinner and thinner, and though her wings were tucked weakly against her back-he knew that they would be just as bleak.
So Milori would exercise some of that control that he was known for as the Lord of the Winter Woods, and he wouldn't allow himself to speak the words that he really wanted to. Wouldn't allow himself to show her every emotion he still felt for her through his eyes.
"I was given an order by my Queen, so I came."
If it was possible, she got even paler at his words and lack of emotion. The deathly cold grip that had held her heart for the past few weeks clenched harder than ever. Looking anywhere but at him, her voice was weak when she replied, "It wasn't an order Milori."
And it wasn't, or at least-she hadn't meant it as one. After so many years apart, and he thought she would order him to see her? Not once in all of Pixie Hollow's history had she ever given the Lord of the Winter Woods an order. Not one single one. Ages ago, when they had been so young; each in charge of building their worlds, and it had been time for them to choose a title...They had both handled the process differently.
The few other fairies and sparrowmen that had been in the warm seasons at the time had given Clarion the title of Queen. When she had arrived in a young Pixie Hollow, she knew that she was suppose to be in charge of building it and protecting it. But she had never deemed herself in charge of any of the others, she wouldn't have done that to them.
Fairy Mary and Gary and others like them had been the first ones to call her their Queen. To treat her like one. And she, at their request, had gone with it.
While both of their lands had been young, the warm seasons at the time had had more fairies than the Winter Woods. Yet those that had been there had obviously done the same to Milori as the others had done to her. She remembered how they had fought, centuries ago over it, Milori hadn't wanted to be in charge of the Winter Woods. Holding firm in his belief that she was meant to rule over all of Pixie Hollow, not just the warm seasons.
Even though they had later learned that both had arrived in their respective worlds around the same time. Both the firsts of their kind, that had always been Clarion's main factor in her opinion. At the time she had fought Milori, saying that it was fairly obvious that the Winter Woods and Pixie Hollow were meant to be ruled separately. Otherwise why were they not able to live in each others world without dreadful things occurring? She had told that to Milori time and time again, he on the other hand had always bowed to her. And when he'd been pressured into deciding on a title, he had come to one that still placed him voluntarily under her power.
Milori always had been sneaky like that.
Still, she wished she could take pleasure in knowing that she had been right all those years ago. But how could she? When being right meant what she saw in the sparrowman standing in front of her?
Milori looked...tired, his broad frame almost stooping in front of her, and his face (though still as attractive as she remembered) showed every year of his age. She was sure he saw the same effects in her.
That is, if he had bothered to even look.
Milori acted as if he had not heard her; straightening up as best he could, he started reporting to her as if he were one of her soldiers-
"We still have a fair amount of dust stored away, and we are rationing what we are still receiving. Most of the older fairies are giving up their shares to the younger ones. The ones that are still preparing for winter, we ought to just be able to make the trip to the mainland...'
Clarion knew all of this, it was the same as what was going on in the warm seasons. Except she didn't have any seasons to prepare for at the moment, and she probably never would again. Not taking the time to dwell on such morbid thoughts she ran through with the knowledge she had received from her rare letters with Dewey.
The knowledge that Milori would never readily tell her. Like the fact that Dewey had told her how the Winter fairies had been determined to give their shares of dust to Milori. And how Milori had completely denied them, even going so far as to completely quit taking his share of pixie dust altogether.
But if he was going to stand here and act as if nothing had ever happened between them. Then as much as it hurt her, she could do it too. At least it would allow her to confront him with her other bit of knowledge.
"I know that," her voice that had once been weak, rang strong. "I also know that you have already appointed people to take your place."
All at once, if it were possible, she felt two emotions so very strongly. On one hand, the fact that he had already appointed a chain of command to take his in the event of his death was what had originally prompted her to arrange this little meeting. It was something that Clarion had conveniently forgotten until a conversation with Mary had prompted her to remember the fact that the whole situation with the Blue Moonstone and the Pixie Dust tree wasn't just affecting her and her fairies.
And on the other, acknowledging what she had just said placed a heavy sort of panic on her. Making her twitchy, wanting to fly far, far away from this truth.
He shifted defensively, "Don't pretend like you haven't also, Clarion."
"So it's Clarion now?" She shot back. As much as she would've liked for this conversation to start out on friendly terms; she had a chance of forcing it to go there now. They didn't have enough time left to fly around the truth.
Milori tried to glare at her, he was never very good at that. From the moment he'd first met her Clarion had had him wrapped around her little finger. And, years later, the fact that he still could manage to even be annoyed with her proved that that hold still stood.
Even still, Clarion was the first to cave. She never had liked conflict, and tried at all costs to prevent it. Therefore she absolutely hated, the dark storm cloud that was hanging over herself and Milori.
"My ministers will work jointly with the help of Mary and Gary. And should that...fail, Vidia-has given me her word."
"Vidia..." that name rang a bell to Milori. "That fast-flying fairy you were always so fond of?"
His remembering that one little fact from so long ago, about a fairy he had never even met-shocked Clarion. Yet...it also gave her the slightest bit of hope. If he had remembered that, did she dare to hope that maybe he did still care...?
"Yes...should something happen to my ministers, Vidia along with Tinkerbell and their friends will do their best to keep order."
"Wait-," Milori's accent thickened, "Tinkerbell...I know that name also."
Clarion waited patiently, it was no surprise that he knew the young tinker's name. Everyone in Pixie Hollow knew the tinker's name now. It would come to Milori in a-
"Is she the one...? His sentence trailed off, there was no need for him to finish that thought. Hesitant, Clarion reluctantly confirmed his suspicions with a short nod.
She watched as his face darkened with fury. "She's the one who broke the stone."
Clarion quickly jumped to the young fairies defense, her eyes widening pleadingly. "It wasn't her fault Milori. It was just an accident, she's so young. She really is a very good tinker."
Milori tensed visibly trying to restrain himself, "I'm sure she is Clarion-"
"Then don't be mad at her."
"How can I not?!" He growled. "When I see the effects of her mistake? When one clumsy child is the cause of you-"
Quickly he cut himself, looking as if his other wing had just been ripped off. It didn't matter though, Clarion knew what he'd just barely stopped himself from saying.
She took what was meant to be a deep breath, but was cut off by the sharp pain in her chest that protested the movement. Supporting Milori's unsaid words. Clarion could only bring herself to whisper her next words, "I am not angry at Tinkerbell. She is currently off on a...'quest' that she begged me to allow. Along with her friends, the poor girl is trying her hardest to find a solution.-"
"Do you think she will?"
"I don't know," she answered him honestly, shrugging off the question. Her eyes brimming with unshed tears at what she was about to say. "Even if she does, find a solution, it won't help us. Sure it will allow the fairies to continue the use of their wings. Therefore allowing them to still deliver the seasons to the mainland. Yet...as you have said, winter will still be on time for the mainland. But...neither you or I will still be here to see spring, much less winter. Because, it's affecting you too Milori."
Milori shook his head stubbornly, "No. No it's not."
"Really?" She made a weak gesture to his sickly stance. "Are you going to lie to me and tell me that this is because you've given up your share of dust? Yes, I know about you giving up your share of the dust; Dewey told me."
"You still speak to Dewey?"
"Occasionally," she answered shortly. The sun was getting ready to set now, casting their reunion in an orange glow. And the blizzard that had been tormenting the Woods for so long looked to be finally ending. "And he informed me that instead of simply using a lesser portion, you no longer take any at all."
His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Not because he was angry at her (he never had been, never would be), but because he was frustrated once more with their situation. "I don't need it," he told her.
No, really, he didn't need it. Not since...the dust was there so that the fairies could fly. Even the most amount of dust wouldn't help him. She knew that, didn't mean it did not hurt all the same to acknowledge it.
"I know," she said sadly, any sign of anger gone; leaving her simply-tired. "Oh, Milori, how I hate that I was right all those years ago!"
Resigned to the fact he wasn't going to be able to convince her that he was just fine; he decided on the truth. Shifting uneasily; he took a deep breath to hold back the memories her words brought. "Actually, love, you weren't entirely right. Dewey has a theory."
Love. If she had the energy, her wings would've been fluttering behind her in pleasure at the familiar nickname. She'd forgotten just how pleasurable it was hearing it fall from his lips.
Biting down on that pesky little emotion-hope-she replied evenly, "Oh?"
"He doesn't think that my life force is tied to the tree...He thinks it's tied to you."
All it took was those simple words, and all the pleasurable feelings were gone. Leaving behind the aching pressure of tears just threatening to be shed as Dewey's logic made unquestionable sense.
"The tree relies on the dust, and I am tied to the tree. And you...you are-you are-" Those tears that had until then just been a threat suddenly broke free and decided to stream down her face.
She was killing him.
No. No. No! But it made perfect sense, even if she wanted desperately to be able to argue it.
The sight of her tears struck something in Milori, leaving him breathless. Her tears melted the icy protection that had first been cracked when had allowed the word 'love' to slip past his lips. Without that wall of protection, Milori had nothing keeping him from lunging forward; cupping his icy hand gently against her face.
Clarion gasped quietly at the sensation, her eyelids sliding shut. While he was experiencing something he hadn't felt in over a century-warmth. Not the deadly warmth that had almost killed him so long ago. No, this was pleasurable, soothing warmth that came from the sheer feel of touching Clarion again.
Milori had missed being warm.
"Shhh love," he soothed; he wiped delicately at her crystal tears. "Don't cry. Please don't cry."
Her eyes were the brightest blue he had ever seen when she looked at him again. "How can I not?" She murmured brokenly, "When I am the reason that you are-"
"You are not the reason that this is happening Clarion." His voice was firm, as he started to feel the difference in having his hands on the other side of the border while the rest of his body was still in winter. "You are not, sweetheart."
They stood like that, entwined together (yet barely touching) for what could have been another few centuries. But only felt like seconds to Milori. It was only when he felt the heat engulfing the backs of his hands rise to a painful level that he finally came to his senses. Brushing Clarion's silky skin one more time; he pulled his hands back to his sides, a thin sheet of his own frost crawling up his arms and cooling his heated flesh.
While he cooled himself, Clarion shuffled nervously. Almost looking like she would take off in flight if she had the energy, Milori knew that urge. If he had the energy (and a set of working wings) he would seriously consider taking off too. Since that wasn't an option for him, "Why did you call this...meeting?
For a moment, he thought she wouldn't answer. Of course that wasn't an option though, no matter how nervous this whole situation might make her-she was still a queen at heart. A great, brilliant, and brave queen; straightening up as much as her aching body would let her. Clarion looked him in the eye and told him the truth, "We...don't have much time left, our end is coming Milori. Most likely, we will not be here to see spring. And there's so much that I should be doing right now, yet...all I can think is that-I want another sunset."
When those sweet, sweet words fell from her lips-nothing else mattered. Not his aching body, not hers, not the fate as Pixie Hollow as a whole. Nothing. Milori did something, that he hadn't in so very long-he smiled.
"Ok, love," he whispered. "Another sunset."
"Another sunset," her eyes shimmered beautifully.
Carefully he sat himself down in the familiar position on his side of the log; gently pulling her down with him. Ignoring the boundary between them for the time being; he wrapped one long arm around her, and she tucked her head into the crook of his neck.
And together, they watched the fading golden rays sink slowly down their split horizon.
Together, they had their one last sunset.