Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, FelineFriend47 and SingingSilent! I used "mating" sometimes as a substitute for the word "sex" in Ch 25—I'm trying to keep it PG-13 for readers :) —but I think it's going to get confusing. I'll use "making love" or something more obvious but tasteful instead going forward. We'll reserve "mating" to mean fairies' version of marriage and consummation from here on out.
This is my take on answers to your questions, SingingSilent: Sleet and Silvermist did fully consummate in Ch 25–Sleet agreed to it so their glows would bind (meaning he could help keep Silvermist's glow [AKA life force] safe). Then the hiccup came of an Alamur not being able to produce white dust on his hands to soften the female's wings for holding her close enough while mating in flight (in my stories, fairies must be in flight to have intercourse; however, Milori and Clarion figured out a non-flight method being his wing is broken). Silvermist, though, explained that salt water would work on her wings since he can't make white dust. Bright Fairies are very happy and loving, so I think of them as being very affectionate overall and making love with their mates every week or so.
Silvermist is upset because 1) Sleet doesn't trust himself enough to make love again, and 2) as Spruce explained, Bright Fairies are wired to end intense making out with making love, so Sleet's rejection is unknowingly very hurtful to her. Alamur aren't affectionate at all by nature, so he doesn't fully get what Spruce was trying to tell him—in his mind, he's protecting Silvermist from his frenzy that would kill her.
We don't know for certain when Rosetta is born, but we do know from the Tinkerbelle movies that Rosetta is already there when Tink arrives. My Clarion and Milori trilogy shows that Sled was already around when Lord Milori lost his wing centuries ago. Rosetta always struck me as a little more mature, so I have her as older in the story. Mates are born within a year of each other, but fairies may not meet their mates until years or centuries later.
No words could express the hurt. Icy wind whipped, but it didn't match the numbness that seeped into her heart. "No, I guess there is no happily ever after," she said quietly and met his hard glare. "The prince rides in and rescues the princess, but I know I'm not a princess and this isn't a fairytale," she said, and guilt flashed through his eye because he actually was an Alamur prince. "I know that you didn't promise me a happily ever after." She gave a soft shrug, swallowing down the painful pill of reality.
The smirk on his face vanished, replaced by guilt and sadness.
The wind howled, whipping her hair against her face. Holding the cape tighter, she turned into the wind and started walking away from the cabin.
A hand wrapped around her upper arm. "Silvermist."
"No!" She spun around, pulling her hair away from her face. So much hurt surged. "Less than a month ago, you left me and I was hours from fading because you didn't want me!" she shouted over the wind.
His brow furrowed. "I told you that was because I thought it would be better for you to find a Bright Fairy and that I didn't know you'd get hurt!" he shouted, the wind howling louder.
"No, you either want me and are in this, or you're not! I'm not going to keep begging you to want me."
Confusion filled his face as she stepped around him and kept walking. "Where are you going?"
The bitter wind started to seep through the cape so much that her wings burned. "Home until you decide if you regret mating." Right now the need to get out of the cold overrode the heartache. A slight panic from it took hold.
"Stop," he ordered and caught her around the waist. "Your wings are hurting. The blizzard is starting, and it's not safe to wander through Winter."
Before she could say anything, he scooped her up, and she suddenly stood in the cabin.
He eased the cape off and stepped behind to inspect her wings.
But she turned so he couldn't look. "Don't." She reached for her cape again, despite a stinging in the tips of her wings. "You resent me, and you try to pretend you don't. I'm not your obligation."
With an extremely solemn expression, he slowly took her hands and held her eyes. "I love you. I need to talk to you about some things, but I need to check your wings first." He pressed a kiss to her brow. "I'm sorry." Then he stepped behind.
Utterly confused, she glanced over her shoulder at him.
He gently eased off the cape.
The tips burned on contact with the warm air, radiating sharp pain. The wings frantically flapped, slamming her forward into the table and knocked the breath out. Then she jerked up toward the ceiling and braced for a painful slam.
But suddenly his arms wrapped around and held tight, and he slowly lowered back down to the floor.
Holding fistfuls of the back of his tunic as back muscles spasmed and the wings beat harder, she pressed her forehead against his chest and breathed through the pain.
His hands pressed into the muscles in an attempt to force paralysis. "Easy," he purred in a low, soothing voice. "I'm going to fold one wing down at a time, but hold onto me so you don't fly." He guided a wing down and held it with his arm. Then the other one.
Something thin held them down and tugged against her waist, and they tried to fight it. Instinctual panic to stop wing pain set in, and she tried to pull free.
"Here." He set his hand next to where it hurt the worst.
It kicked off more pain and instinctual pushing and twisting to scramble away from the source. Why was he making it worse instead of better? His glow brightened considerably. He wouldn't try to do this. But the tighter he held, the more the fear and struggling escalated until tears fell.
His arms clamped down and almost crushed her against his chest, immobilizing her. "Easy. Easy. I'm on a medicine so pain can't transfer. You must tell me if it hurts worse. Your wing tips have mild frostbite, but I need you to be still," he said calmly against her ear. "We need to gradually thaw them, but it's going to sting until they return to a certain temperature threshold. I need you to fight your instincts and stay still."
The panic calmed enough to hold onto him and try to not move.
He tucked her into bed and carefully spread her wings over his side of the mattress. A blanket warmed from the fire draped on her wings would help soothe the aches. Then he pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat, leaning his elbows down on his knees to be more eye level with her. "Are they still hurting?"
She shook her head.
"As soon as the temperatures go back above zero, we're going to the hospital to have your wings double checked."
But her eyes shifted away, and she didn't speak, as if wishing to be anywhere but stuck here with him.
"I left earlier to speak with Healer Spruce." A deep sigh released. "I...Silvermist, I have no idea how to be a mate. I needed to ask him if it'd hurt you if we never made love again."
Instead of relief in her eyes at not having to deal with his bumbling, rough attempts to be intimate, heartbreak filled them. She pulled the blanket higher to her chin. It was as if she tried to hide her body.
Then it dawned—she thought he didn't want her. Reaching out, he stroked her cheek. "Dewdrop, it's because I'm afraid of getting too rough. I want you so much that sometimes I have to get up in the middle of the night and leave the bed. Sleet explained that Bright Fairies need that physical affection when mated, but it won't hurt you to not have it. He also said that when I kiss or touch you, it triggers your instincts to make love. I thought those would be other ways of being intimate instead, but he said they're provoking your instincts—it's why you thought you caught the frenzy."
She swallowed hard and finally met his eyes. "So you're just never going to touch me instead."
For some reason, hearing the plan out loud made it seem so cruel, especially to a Bright Fairy. She didn't deserve that. "What if a couple times a year we make love, and we talk about when so I can be prepared to be really in control so the frenzy doesn't start." It sounded awful even the moment it came out.
Her eyes fell to stare at the sheets, so much heartache coming from her that it made the glow around his heart hurt. "Do you want to hurt me sometimes? I know you wouldn't be able to help it." Her voice came out so small from grief rather than fear.
Sliding to his knees beside the bed, he set his hand over the blanket where hers hid and stroked her hair as his voice grew thick. "I know that sometimes I hurt you, but it's never because I want to. It's like speaking a different language—at times what I think is best for you comes out wrong and does not at all translate to what I meant it to be. Like today, I wanted to have you so badly that I couldn't stand it. I needed to leave to get some physical distance. Then after talking to Spruce, I thought it'd hurt you less if you saw a side of me that made you not want me anymore rather than me having to reject your touches. I'm not always good at this mate stuff. There have been many hours when I can't sleep, so I go sit outside and try to figure out how to make this work because I want you to have a happily ever after. My biggest fear is losing you, and I'm scared that I'm going to cause it."
Her eyes held as his tears spilled over.
"I want to be your mate, Silvermist, but I don't know if I can. All I know to do are horrible tortures to you," the hideous words whispered free, his hand covering his mouth too late. A sniffle escaped as his face crumpled.
Instead of fear or sadness, love shined in her eyes. A delicate smile touched her lips, and she sat up and pushed the blankets back to climb into his lap.
"What are you doing?" He roughly brushed at his eyes, and carefully wrapped an arm around her waist while pulling a blanket around her wings.
Her arms looped around his neck, and her smile grew as teardrops danced in her eyes. "This is being my mate—talking and explaining what you're feeling and thinking so I understand. I don't want you analyzing and trying to figure out what you should do." She set a hand over his heart. "When you think with this is when you get it right. I'm not asking you to pour your heart out to me every week, but don't forget to think with this. I'm not going to be a perfect mate either, and I know that having a mate goes completely against your nature. I understand that you're rough around the edges, but that's part of what I love about you. You're my dragon, and I know that means sometimes I'll get burned by your fire. But that's okay as long as I know you didn't mean to burn me."
A lump formed in his throat, the relief so overwhelming that his forehead rested against hers and his eyes closed. "I think for a while we need to talk every night because I have no idea what I'm doing."
Her delicate hand cupped his cheek. "Why are you talking medicine?"
Opening his eyes to stare at the ground like a trapped rabbit didn't help ease the dread of the impending argument. "Spruce gave dandelion medicine for the hip pain, but instead it blocks pain from transferring to you."
She sat upright so fast that his head snapped forward. "So your hip has been hurting this entire time?"
Tucking the loose hair back behind his ear again and drawing a deep breath for the courage to be honest with her, he said, "I don't want to be unable to touch you. There's no harm with staying on the dandelion, so it's—"
"An easy way to appear more normal," she finished softly.
His heart beat faster. How did she know? She should be repulsed and angry, but instead she understood. Cupping her delicate cheek that his scarred hand engulfed had never felt more right. "Just when I'm hurt. As soon as my hip is better, I won't take it."
Her small hand rested over his on her face. "Your pain doesn't transfer to anyone else. I want help you not hurt sometimes, but I know sometimes it's too much for me. Even if I have to wear gloves or a cape to touch you, I don't want you to try to change us."
Swallowing down nauseousness, he stroked her hair. "Other Bright Fairy mates don't feel each other's pain. It's probably because I'm an Alamur—as a way to make you hurt more to brighten my glow. If you're hurt, I'll take your pain, but you're not supposed to feel mine."
But she leaned in and cupped his scruffy jaw in her hands, a smile playing on her lips. "And other Bright Fairy mates don't fall this madly in love. I don't love you because of the ways you're like a Bright Fairy—I love you because of all the ways you're different." Then she pressed her lips to his.
"Your wings," he mumbled when she refused to break the kiss.
Her arms wrapped around. "They're fine. Does your hip hurt if I sit like this?" She straddled his lap.
His fingers bit into her backside as he adjusted her. "No, but this isn't a good idea," he panted. Neverland, she was too soft for this to be a good idea.
"Be still and let me worry about your hip. You keep on the blanket." She peeled off her dress, and he caught the blanket before it fell from her shoulders.
"Silvermist, we can't make love. Neverland, I want you too much right now." But it felt too perfect to stop her from pulling off his tunic.
His knees wobbled as he tried to stand minutes later. The cabin felt impossibly hot and his heart still raced. "Neverland, what did you do to me?"
A pleased smile decorated her luscious mouth as she stood without any trouble and walked over to the potbelly stove in her beautiful glory. The way her hair cascaded over her bare skin was enough to drive any sparrowman mad. "It occurred to me that if your wings don't buzz and you can't move much to dominate, maybe the frenzy can't come." She glanced over her shoulder with a naughty smile and moved her hair to fall over one shoulder. Then she knelt before the fire and slowly unfolded her wings. And gracefully raised to absorb the warmth of the fire.
She looked gorgeous. "Oh dear Neverland," he begged and collapsed back into the chair, "come back here, dewdrop." How was it possible to desire her so much still?
With a giggle, she wiggled a finger. "Come over here so I don't need the blanket."
His eyebrows rose. And he hurried over with the chair.
"I'm sorry, twice probably wasn't a good idea," she said and tried to help him stand.
He grimaced in pain and leaned on her shoulder and the chair back. "I'm going to go outside and grab more firewood to get us through the night. Maybe moving around will help." He accepted help dressing and took the cane.
The poor thing limped heavily to the door, his wings flicking from pain.
"Here, you get in bed and I'll get the wood."
"No—"
"It's right at the back of the cabin. I'll be out for ten seconds." She pulled on clothes and the cape and gloves. Before he could argue, she slipped out into the arctic air.
The blizzard was unlike anything ever experienced, even making visibility more than an arm length away impossible. A hand on the side of the cabin to walk was the only way that making it to the firewood was even possible. Grabbing an armful of logs, she turned to head back. And felt for the cabin with her elbow, but it was gone. Another step toward it didn't find it either. There must've been a wrong turn somehow.
A strange growl.
Stopping in her tracks, so did her heart.
A rat's face came into view. It's ugly, sharp teeth bared—one snap would mean a fatal gutting.
An armful of wood was the only weapon. Taking it by surprise was the only chance. "Sleet!" The scream ripped out as she threw the armful of wood at it and ran toward what should be the cabin.
It's screech filled the air.
She plowed into a tree. It grabbed her shoulders as she bounced backwards. Just as a scream rose, it said, "Silvermist, what's wrong?"
Then Sleet swung her behind him as the rat shrieked in an attack.
"Yah! Get!" he shouted and flung snowballs as it charged. "Run!"
The cabin door was right there, so she dove inside with Sleet on her heels. His arms wrapped around as he covered her with his body in the corner of the cabin. The door rattled.
"Stay there," he ordered and was suddenly back in the blink of an eye with the sword in his hand.
Glass shattered and the rat scrambled inside, taking up almost half of the cabin with its teeth snapping in blinding hunger. There was no way around the door without getting closer to the rat.
Sleet stepped back, forcing her tight into the corner. "Don't look," he called.
Rats were one thing that fairies rarely survived—too small to fight off easily in flight like a wolf and too big to easily battle on foot. The panic grew as it came closer and Sleet raised the sword.
"Sleet," she whimpered.
"There's only one shot," he growled in intense concentration, his body tense.
It screamed for the kill, and she screamed in fright.
The sharp tip of the sword suddenly stuck out of the rat's head. the hilt under its jaw as it dropped dead.
Soft whimpers of fear escaped, trying to gasp in air through the shock of it all. Sleet was gone. And then it dawned that he had probably been crushed under the rat. "Sleet!" A different kind of fear and panic took over, and she ran over to the rat to pull it off in a desperate attempt at a hopeless rescue. Sobs burst out and she pulled at the fur of a body too heavy to move. "Sleet!"
Arms wrapped around from behind and pulled her up.
A sob of relief and she spun around to hold him.
He held tight and the weight of his head lowered on top of hers. "It's alright, dewdrop."
"I thought...I thought..." More tears erupted.
"Ah, dewdrop, you must've forgotten my name."
When she pulled back to look up at him in confusion, a smile touched his lips.
"One. I just needed the one perfect moment so I could keep you safe."
Brushing at her eyes, a glimpse of red on her hands caught her eye. Then she looked down to see the rat's blood covering her hands and the front of her cape. And it must've smeared onto his tunic from her in a few spots.
"I don't know that this is salvageable."
She followed his eyes to where the rat had broken most of the wall around the window and smashed most all of the furniture. The bitter wind cut through the hole in the wall.
The roof groaned.
In the blink of an eye, she suddenly stood outside in his arms just as the roof collapsed.
He tugged the cape around her tighter and swung her up in his arms. "The winds are too strong to fly," he called over the howl. "Keep the cape tight to protect your wings." Then he twisted his back toward the wind to shelter her and kept his head down as he started walking.
"Your hip. Your wings!"
"Mine can't break from the cold."
He didn't comment on his hip, but his limp worsened with her added weight.
She was completely useless to him until they got to the border.
It was like a wall of snow. He stepped through it at the border, and the warmth of Spring hit. And he slammed onto his knees, barely not dropping her as he collapsed from the pain.
Throwing off the snow covered cape, she scrambled up and rolled him onto his back, brushing the thick layer of snow from him and his ice covered hair from his face. His wings appeared unscathed.
"Wings?" he gasped, his eyes squeezed shut.
"My wings are fine."
"Silvermist?" Tink flew over. More fairies started to come.
"Get Healer Spruce. A rat attacked us, and Sleet's hip is hurt."
Fairy Gary and some other sparrowmen came over. "We'll get him to my house, it's closest," Gary said.
He turned his head away. "No," he breathed, his brow glistening from pain.
"Yes. We need help, and you're too hurt to move. My old home is too hot in Summer for you to stay there." She eased his eye patch down and pressed a kiss to his brow. Then she stepped back as three sparrowmen carried him.
Not even half way to Gary's house, Spruce flew in. He set down his bag as the fairies set Sleet on the ground.
"How did he fight off a rat in the cabin?" Tink whispered while Spruce did a quick exam.
"Not now, Tink." She knelt and held Sleet's hand, his poor body trembling from the agony. "How bad?"
Spruce glanced at all the fairies gathering in concern and lowered his voice. "It's partially dislocated," he whispered. "He can't be moved until I reset it, or there could be permanent damage."
"Not here," Sleet panted. Behind the pain in his eyes was pleading.
The glow around her heart burned hot—the few times like it'd done before when Sleet was afraid. There was something he was afraid of other fairies seeing.
Setting her free hand on his shoulder, she looked at Spruce.
But he shook his head that there was no other option. "I'm going to give a sedative, Captain." He drew up a syringe.
Sleet tugged her hand until she leaned closer. "Don't let anyone...see the scar," he panted.
"We won't," Spruce answered for her and must've noticed her confused expression. "Bright Fairies can't scar like that," he whispered. Then he looked up. "Gary, you're strong. Come over here. Tink, get two bedsheets to use as traction to reset his hip. Iridessa and Vidia, keep everyone back. I need everyone to go."
When the fairies left and Vidia and Iridessa kept guard, Spruce gave Sleet the injection. "We won't let anyone see the scar," he whispered in promise.
When Tink returned, Spruce took the sheets and sent her to keep guard. He laid one over Sleet and handed the other to Gary on Sleet's other side. "I need his pants off so I get full movement."
She kept the sheet in place and then held it up while Spruce undressed him and palpated the hip. "You keep him covered. Gary, I need the other sheet." He looped it around Sleet's upper thigh. "Alright, Gary hold him still while I pull. I need everyone quiet so I can hear for any popping."
Both Gary and Spruce worked up a sweat. And then a sickening pop interrupted the silence, the odd vibration transferring through Sleet's body to where she held the sheet down at his stomach.
Poor Fairy Gary paled. "Was that supposed to happen?"
Spruce nodded and moved Sleet's leg around. "Alright, it's back in place. Let's get him dressed and then to the hospital for an x-ray to make sure everything looks properly aligned." Then he leaned over and whispered, "And you're telling me how this happened."
"So he walked almost a half mile through a blizzard while carrying you?"
She nodded and kept a hand over Sleet's even though he was still unconscious. "He dislocated it while carrying me, didn't he?"
Spruce had him on his side and wrapped a thick bandage around the thigh. "Probably. All the inflammation already there likely helped shove it out of place with walking that far and with the extra weight." Then he carefully rolled Sleet onto his back and started to wrap the bandage tightly around the lower hips. "This will help keep the hip stable. He needs to stay in bed for at least twenty-four hours, and then he can carefully get up to go to the washroom with the aid of crutches. I don't want him sitting upright for a few days. I'll be by each day to teach you how to do some exercises with his leg. It'll be impossible for him to do them on his own, so don't let him try to tell you that he can. If he washes, it needs to be showers with the bandage on and little weight on his bad side."
A deep flush rose. "Um, before the rat attack, he sat in a chair and we, um, did mate things. Did I...?"
He glanced up from his work for a moment to meet her eyes with a smile. "Did you make his hip worse by making love like that? No. In fact since you brought it up, I want you doing the work the next six weeks so his hip can be as immobile as possible. Be extremely careful to not put any pressure on this hip. But intimacy will be good for him—I've found that it helps temporarily decrease patients' pain sometimes and lifts their spirits during recovery. I'm glad he let go of that bullheaded idea of staying away from you. He has a bigger heart than he knows, and you both would've grown sad without physical affection." He straightened and looked down at his handiwork. "That should do it. Do you know where you'll be staying until the cabin is repaired?" He pulled the sheet up to keep Sleet modest.
She shook her head. "One worry at a time."
"Alright. We can keep him for a day or two. I suspect you're not leaving?"
"No." She stroked Sleet's rough cheek.
"I'll have a recliner brought in from one of the other rooms for you to sleep in." He walked toward the door.
"Spruce?"
He turned, with a hand on the door.
"You've been more than a healer to both of us. I'm glad that he has someone to talk to when he's lost. Thank you. If you ever need anything, we'll do our best to help."
A smile softened his face. "Thank you. All I do is knock sense into his head now and then—you're the one who keeps him from getting lost. I'll stop by before I leave tonight to see how he's doing."
"What are you doing?" She sat up in the middle of the night.
Sleet had the bed reclined up and sketched something on paper, with only his glow for light. "We have nowhere to live. I'm not sitting around doing nothing for the next few weeks," he grunted.
Flinging the blanket off, she got up and slowly lowered the bed.
"What—?!"
"Spruce said you can't sit upright for a while yet."
He pushed her hand away from the lever. "I don't give a damn what he said, we need blueprints for a home. I heal faster than Bright Fairies, so in two weeks I can start building—"
"Six weeks is your faster healing time."
His eyes flew to her in anger and he grimaced as he raised the bed again.
"Please," she said softly and didn't move.
He stilled, as if the gentle plea threw him off more than an argument.
"I know the dislocation happened because you carried me through the blizzard. And I know that you did it because your body heat against my wings kept them from getting too cold. Where we have to live for a few weeks doesn't matter. All I want is for your body to heal the right way. It'd break my heart for you to have lifelong complications because of me."
"It wouldn't be because of you," he said, with more patience in his voice.
"But it would. You got hurt because I'm a Bright Fairy. Just let me take care of you and do what Spruce says needs to be done."
His shoulders sagged. "Silvermist, we have no home. Even if I don't heal properly, it's nothing new. Alamur aren't meant to have complete recoveries, and the pain isn't like it is for a Bright Fairy."
Tears welled as she gingerly eased onto the side of the bed and touched his face. "You love me enough that you did what you knew would cause your body harm because it meant keeping me safe. Now let me love you enough to try to give you a complete recovery. Even if it is impossible, just let me try. A home will come when the time is right, but we only have one chance to heal your hip properly." She cupped his face in her hands with a watery smile. "I need more than the one perfect moment to keep you safe," she whispered, repeating his words. "It might be futile, but let me try."
He cradled her hand on his cheek and turned his head to press a kiss in her palm. "Alright, but you have to let me work on blueprints."
"If you do it so your hip doesn't move."
"I can't lie on my back and sketch."
"I know." She stood and grabbed her pillow. Then she slipped it under the blanket and leaned across the bed. "Roll onto your good side. I'll put the pillow between your legs to support your hip." With slow movements and a lot of helping him turn, he leaned up on his elbow as he laid on his side. She pulled over the the hospital tray to be his table and then wiped his damp brow. "Will the dandelion medicine wear off soon?"
That gentle brown eye met hers. "Thank you for being willing to take the pain, but I don't want you to. Spruce gave another dose at bedtime."
Her heart fell. "I don't want you to deal with this on your own."
He reached out and took her hand. "I'm not, dewdrop." A smile touched his lips. "Now tell me, what would you like our bedchamber to look like?"