It's a year after the defeat of Gadflow, in the springtime, as Winter fades into Summer's reign, that Liriel comes to Cydan, reuniting in the rebuilt keep of Seawatch.
She is worn, more tired than when Cydan had bade her farewell before she had gone to investigate rumors of Kollosae in the south.
But she receives him with open arms and a happy grin, nonetheless.
"My King," she says, smiling as he joins her beneath one of the sprawling trees, its boughs laden with snow, glittering in the hard sunlight. "How did your first season go?"
"Well enough," Cydan says. "We've managed to uproot and melt most of the prismire and we're dumping it into the cave where you fought Tirnoch. And there's been some new growth of crystals, proper Winter ones in the throne room."
"Your crown as well," Liriel says, touching the edge of the silver crown of Winter, which has gleaming white crystals set into the brow. "I saw that the Hallowed tree is healing quite nicely."
"A minor miracle in all honesty," Cydan mutters. "Given how many mortal bodies were lain about its roots and buried in its soil."
He grimaces; restoring the tree was an ongoing battle, as the mortal corpses had to dug up and disposed of. The tree was of Fae creation, Fae bodies would nourish it best, not mortal ones.
And they had a lot of Fae corpses on their hands. The Tuatha had been slain in droves and many of the bodies now lay beneath preserving magics until they could be returned to proper soil.
Still, the land was healing which was more than he could say for what had happened under Gadflow's rule. Cydan remembers how the land had changed from icy plateaus beset by howling blizzards, snow blanketing the earth from the heart of Alabastra to the coast of Mel Senshir to muggy forests with warm winds drifting throughout the land of Winter.
The fiery haze of Tirnoch had melted Winter's cold, and though Cydan could find some measure of beauty in the warmth of Summer, he found none in overturned order that Gadflow had brought.
Winter was to be cold and Summer to be warm; they were not meant to linger in each other's seasons.
Gadflow had sought to turn the Cycle on its head for the power of a false God, and for a time it had worked. But then came the Fate-touched, Cydan muses.
Liriel, Siege-breaker and Godslayer.
A child of the Alfar peoples, who watches him with golden eyes as she lies beside him, with his totem at her breast.
"You look pensive, my King," she says quietly, snow drifting down from one of the branches to settle against her pale hair.
"Merely considering the past," Cydan says. The title he now bears doesn't seem as out of place coming from her lips.
"Hmm," she says, studying him for a moment before beckoning him down to her.
Cydan leans over her, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of her head. She is smaller than him, a creature of slender build, with lean and wiry muscles.
"I am somewhat cold, my King," she says slyly, "perhaps you might offer me some of your warmth?"
Cydan laughs. "A rather odd thing to ask of a Winter Fae, Godslayer."
Liriel smiles mischievously, "But you have shared such before, Cydan…or do I no longer have such familiarity with you?" her tone is soft, but Cydan can hear the faintest uncertainty in her voice.
Cydan doesn't reply, but lets his actions be his answer, leaning down and capturing her mouth with his.
She makes a quiet sound against him, hands twining into his hair, pressing him close.
"You know," she murmurs as he draws back, "I don't think I'm ever as happy as when I'm with you, my King."
Cydan hears something stir behind them, a rustling that pulls his attention away for the smallest of moments, and then Liriel makes a soft gasp, going limp against him, hands falling away to lie in the snow.
She is still staring up at him, eyes bright and golden, her blue skin stark against winter's white.
"Oh," she says quietly, and there are tears sliding silently down her cheeks, "She did not lie to me."
"What?!" Cydan asks, looking her over; there was no injury, no crimson blood spilling over his hands, staining his dark skin with her lifesblood.
"Tirnoch swore she'd curse my life," Liriel says, giving a cough. Blood trickles down her chin. "That when I was the happiest, she would take it away from me."
There are tears at her eyes. "Cydan, I-" she convulses, vomiting blood into the snow.
Cydan curses, and shouts for the guards to bring a healer. Seawatch is ever populated by Winter Fae and there is a healer on staff who is oath sworn to Liriel; the Godslayer having been the mastermind behind the keep's restoration and repopulation in the year after the Crystal War.
He cradles Liriel in his arms, trying to keep her from hurting herself more in her convulsions.
The healer, Conni, hurtles across the snow, skidding to a halt beside Liriel, running her dark hands across Liriel's brow.
"What is this, your Majesty?!" she asks fearfully.
"A curse," Cydan says, wiping bright blood away from Liriel's mouth as the Alfar coughs. "Can you do anything for her?"
"I-I-," Conni sputters, helpless, then her mouth firms into a hard line, "I'll do what I can, your Majesty."
White magic threads from her hands, wrapping about Liriel's body, curling around her neck. The Alfar stills immediately, the wet rasping of her breathing the only sign that she still lived.
Conni is motionless, in the way that all healers examining patients via magic are, almost as if she is frozen solid.
The minutes slide by slowly, and it feels like eons, even to Cydan who by his very nature finds the passage of time almost meaningless.
"There is nothing else I can do for her, your Majesty," Conni says at last, her tone bitter. Her face is grave with sorrow.
"Nothing?" Cydan asks sharply, glaring at the healer.
"Nothing for the moment, your Majesty," Conni elaborates with a helpless shrug of her shoulders. "I've put her in a painless sleep, but that's the most I can do for her."
Cydan blinks, registering the words as an idea occurs to him. "For the moment, you said?"
"We might be able to find something if given more time, your Majesty," Conni says. "But I do not know how long it will take. This is a curse unlike anything I've ever come across and I fear that I do not know enough to try to break it."
"Can we safely move her?"
"You wish to move her to Alabastra, your Majesty?" Conni guesses.
"Yes," Cydan says, "We've better healers there and the area where she would have been cursed is not far. It may give us better answers as how to break the curse."
"Or," Conni says gently, "It may make it worse, your Majesty."
"If you have a better idea," Cydan says shortly, "I'd love to hear it."
"My King," Conni says, her voice soft and quiet as Cydan has ever heard, "she is mortal, our lady Godslayer is. You are Fae, as unlike her as any could be. Might it not be more merciful to end her suffering here, rather than stretch it out into what could years, centuries even in an attempt to find a counter-curse?"
"You are her friend, healer," Cydan says, and his words are as sharp as a fresh hewn ice-blade, "And yet you counsel so?"
"My duty is to preserve life, your Majesty," Conni says, "to be held on the edge of the knife as she is? That is not preservation, it is cruelty. And even you, my King, I know are not so callous."
"Then you do not know me," Cydan says coldly, "We'll move her to Alabastra, you can come along or stay here. Your decision."
Conni gapes at him as he lifts Liriel, cradling her close, "Your Majesty!"
"Well?" he asks, standing.
Conni stands, "I'll come with you, your Majesty."
Cydan gives her a curt nod. "Come on then."
Time in the end, is all that they have.
"It's not so bad," Liriel slurs as she wakes in Alabastra's heart, in Amythn.
"I beg to differ," Cydan says, clasping one of her hands. "I like you alive and well, Liriel."
"I mean," Liriel continues, oblivious to the blood that drips down her chin, that Cydan brushes away, "I got to see you again, and we beat Gadflow."
She coughs again, tilting her head to get a better look at Cydan.
"Guess there's a price for everything, Cydan," she mumbles.
"We'll find a curse-breaker just for your particularly bad string of luck, my love," Cydan says.
Liriel laughs or tries to. It ends up being a harsh, rattling cough that reminds Cydan too much of her first death.
"We are ever the tragic couple, aren't we?" she gasps. "The mortal Godslayer and the Prince of Sorrows."
"And yet I do not regret it," Cydan says, and he doesn't. This mortal has brought him his vengeance and kindled a fire of resolve in his heart unlike any other.
Liriel smiles at him, a gentle exhale of breath escaping her as Cydan presses a kiss to her knuckles.
"Neither do I," she murmurs. "What are you going to do?"
"We'll put you in stasis," Cydan says, "Until we've found a cure."
"Oh, my love," Liriel sighs, her mouth gleaming with red. "You are ever one to fight against impossible odds."
"We won against Gadflow," Cydan says.
"True," Liriel coughs. "Cydan-"
"Sleep, love," Cydan murmurs, leaning over to press a kiss to her lips. "I will wake you, no matter how long it takes."
Liriel only smiles sleepily at him and then the spell settles around her, her bright eyes slipping closed and she is gone.
Cydan watches her for a long time, tasting iron on his tongue before he places the crystalline lid over her bed, and departs.
Behind him, waiting for her Prince's kiss, the mortal Godslayer sleeps.
And it is said she sleeps still.