So here's what you've been waiting for. I've been envisioning it in my head forever now, but it took me a while to actually sit down and write it. I can't say much else, but it takes place right where the last chapter left off. REVIEW please, especially this one, and enjoy! I also don't own Wicked Lovely, but I love to write about its characters. It's Irial's POV.

Beira was standing in the parlor room when Irial descended the stairs. She was wearing a long, white cloak that partially shrouded her face in the cold moonlight. It was an unusual look for her, Irial noticed. He also noticed that this time, she had no servants with her; not a Scrimshaw Sister or Bone Girl in sight to prevent her white robes from dragging along the dirty ground.

Beira had come to him, for the first time ever, completely alone. A cold chill crept over him, a precedent of the never-ending winter to come.

Irial took caution as he approached her, his black eyes calculating. The Winter Queen spun around upon hearing his approach, her movements uneasy.

"Irial", she said simply, trying to conceal the shakiness of her voice.

Irial gave her an odd expression, but nodded curtly, his hands curling at his sides. Irial sensed a tangled feeling in her, lying just beneath the surface of her cool demeanor. "Why have you come, Beira? The hour is late."

Beira's delicate, long fingers, which Irial noticed were shaken, pulled back her hood to reveal bloodshot eyes and a face strewn with icy tears.

Irial took in a breath, made uneasy by such a sight. He looked into her ice blue eyes and saw fear, anger, passivity; conflicting emotions that were at odds with the Winter Queen he thought he knew.

"Beira?" Irial reached out to her, his hand touching her shoulder. In doing so, he noticed that she was cradling something beneath her cloak.

"I tried to bring him back", she whispered, "but Death refused me." An icy tear ran down her cheek, and Irial could taste her longing and grief. "And now I must suffer for it."

"What do you mean? You are making little sense, Beira."

Beira ignored him, her expression distant. Wherever she was in her mind, she wash't close. Then her eyes went hard, and all the cruelness she wasn't showing reemerged. Her voice grew low. "You must help me rid myself of this", she hissed, her eyes boring into his. Before Irial could ask her what she meant, Beira stepped closer to him, revealing from her mass of robes the one thing Irial hadn't expected; an infant child.

Irial's eyes went wide and he gasped, his eyes transfixed on the small child. The baby had a mass of illustrious, copper hair that shimmered not unlike Miach's and a complexion of frosty moonlit skin. He also had the most intriguing pair of eyes. They appeared to be shifting between colors; vibrant green in one moment and ice blue in the next. It was unlike anything Irial had ever seen before in all of his millennia of living.

"What have you done?" Irial managed to whisper as he gazed at the child.

Beira's face went hard, her eyes narrowing. "What I had to do, what I should have done long ago." Irial tasted her resentment, longing, and fear as she spoke.

Irial was too shocked to understand what she was saying. "Impossible", he whispered, glancing down at the child again, who was now smiling coyly at him. "Fey don't bear children."

Beira snarled. "I know", she spat, quite disgusted by that revelation. "But yet it's here."

Taken aback by the anger in her tone, Irial met her gaze. "It? He is your son, Beira, your heir. You have that which very few of us may ever dream of having."

Beira watched Irial with apt determination, her iridescent eyes shimmering white now. "He is my burden. He will take after his father and vie for my throne. I mustn't allow it."

Irial could barely believe what he was hearing. "You want me to help you murder your child, your own flesh-and-blood?"

Beira held the child beneath her robes again, shrouding him from Irial's sight. "Spare me your pity, Dark King. I came here not for lecture."

Irial's jaw tightened, his eyes aptly curious. "What would Miach have of you doing this in secret, without him knowing?"

Beira sneered, but he saw the pain in her eyes she tried so hard to hide, could hear the heartbreak in her voice. "Miach will have nothing of my affairs, Darling. Not anymore. His death has assured his silence."

Irial's mouth parted as he realized what Beira was saying. He stared at her, the Winter Queen, truly cold in every sense of the word. He swallowed back the pain he felt in his chest in knowing that his friend was no longer living, but he refused to shed tears in her presence. "Do you understand what you've done?" Irial ground out, roughly grabbing her arm. "The balance is forever changed."

She snatched her arm away from him and the tone of her voice was far crueler than his court had ever been. "Sometimes death is necessary. A Queen must not let affection dictate her actions."

When Irial was silent, she said, "I've come to summon your assistance. I do not wish the boy dead. I wish him bound, partially stripped of his birthright. For centuries he must search for the mortal who holds the other half of Summer. It should be enough time for me to fully come into power."

Irial watched her with an equally calculating gaze. "And if I choose to bind him, what is it that you can offer me or my Court?
Beira grinned, a cold smile that was not meant to reassure. "Then the mortal and fey realms shall suffer under my hand; and the Dark Court shall thrive as they've never before."

Irial stared at Beira for a long while. Unlike Miach, whom she killed, Beira was no ally to him, nor was she a friend. He knew not to trust her, knew that a woman so cruel as to rashly murder the father of her child- her beloved- and think so little about the consequences could surely be no true ally. And he pitied a woman who would subject her newborn child to centuries of cruelty and subjugation for the sake of power.

There were many reasons Irial had to not trust Beira. She disgusted him with the level of evil she possessed. Yet, despite these things, Irial knew above all else Beira would be the key to her own destruction if he agreed to her little game. He knew that her selfish nature would one day result in her certain demise when she tried to tamper with the rules of the curse he would set into existence.

He also knew that the curse would keep his Court strong for many centuries until the curse was broken.

In that span of time, Irial found himself remembering his own concern for the unhealthiness of Miach's relationship with Beira. Irial had watched Bannanach's manipulation, saw how she managed to turn both of them against each other. He remembered how he warned Miach countless times that two conflicting elements could never remain at peace with one another, that eventually, one would fall. It saddens me that you've fallen, My Friend. With Bannanach's whisperings of deceit and mistrust being planted in their heads, they never stood a chance.

Irial glanced at Beira, who's obdurate face remained as still as stone as she waited. Weighing all of his options, Irial realized that he needed to be strong for his people, needed to ensure their safety above all else, even if it meant hurting Miach's son.

Forgive me, Dear Friend.

Irial knew that Kings made difficult decisions; he'd been living with the consequences of his for centuries now. But his people came first, and nothing would change that.

So with a nod, he told Beira, "I accept". And they swore to the curse that would forever seal the young king's fate, Irial giving up a piece of himself, and Beira doing the same. Their essences created a tie that would dictate the boy's life for centuries, a curse whose rules were so severe and cruel that they left no room for compromise. In those moments as Irial felt his magic at work, he thought only about how it would help his Court, trying not to dwell on known the importance it would have in shaping the fey world. And afterwards, when Beira left with the child and Irial was all alone to reflect on his deeds, he could almost taste regret.