Chapter Text
The early signs of spring began to make themselves known to the residents at High Hope Dance Academy slowly but surely. Each morning, dawn brought with it the return of birdsong, the smell of dew and fresh buds on the breeze, and a hint of warmth beginning to burgeon with each passing hour. Some days were windy, strong gusts blowing through tiny, delicate buds as they began emerging on tree branches. The sun would linger in the sky for longer and longer as summer approached. For the students at High Hope, trapped as they had been within the mountains through a frigid winter, it was a change welcomed with bright smiles, opened arms, and lightened spirits.
Well. . . it was a change welcomed openly by all but one. Each warmer day, each lengthened moment of sunshine added a lair of dread within the knot in Dame Skyla’s belly. She pleaded with all the gods that winter would remain. That the polar deities and icy spirits of the season would encase her beloved academy in a polar vortex, never to see the light of spring again.
If it did, then she would not be forced to endure the biological nightmare that lay ahead.
She would not be forced to acknowledge the fate awaiting a Bonded fairy without their mate.
Skyla knew she would wake one morning, that first morning of spring, with a low grade fever. That the natural sunlight illuminating her bedroom would be near-overwhelming in its intensity, and the layers of blankets adorning her bed would set her skin alight. The all-encompassing fatigue would keep her in bed longer than she was accustomed to, longer than she would have liked, before she would force herself to rise and start her days’ worth of classes. And Skyla knew that - even as her symptoms slowly took her body in their vice-like grip - that she would continue to ignore them until it was physically impossible to do so.
So, on that fateful morning in early April when she woke feverish, trembling in agony where the sheets brush her skin, and aching desperately between her legs, Skyla knew that her fate had long been sealed.
Skyla felt tears slip from beneath her aching eyelids and drip into her hair. Her beloved Sky Dancers hadn’t yet experienced spring at the academy, much less a spring with her . Therefore, she was luckily able to brush off the first few days as simply being under the weather. An unlucky early spring cold. But the longer she continued to ignore her body’s cries for help, the more concerned they were for her wellbeing. The more difficult it was to continue moving through her daily activities, to ignore the concern in her wonderful children’s eyes.
Slam began bringing her hot teas and offered seats to her on a regular basis, muttering about “dark circles” under his breath. Breeze offered her his healing blankets and helped the cooks create her favorite soups. Camilla and Angelica would bring her fuzzy socks and warm, soft blankets to curl up in when the aches became too much to ignore, when the fever would spike and her eyes would leak involuntarily. And Jade, bless her, would subtly note her limp, lackluster hair, the dark circles beneath her eyes, and the ever-increasing spikes in her temperature.
The day came where she could no longer demonstrate a specific dance for her elite class. Her joints were swollen and hot. Her body ached with perpetual fever. Her nerves crawled and burned, and she was mortified at the constant, aching need that existed at the apex of her thighs.
“Dame Skyla?” A gentle hand - feminine and delicate - rested upon her shoulder. “I’m getting worried. You’re not getting any better. This isn’t just a cold, is it?”
Oh, damnation to Jade’s intuition.
Skyla trembled, energy rapidly waning even as her nerves jumped and ached, the fever bringing a high flush to her cheeks. She could not focus on her Dancers, her children , due to this horrific. . . . biologic imperative of her species.
It wasn’t fair!
Frustrated tears welled in her eyes, and suddenly Slam was kneeling in front of her, deep concern lighting his dark eyes. Gently, oh so gently, he reached out to take her hand. The other dancers crowded about her.
Weak. Hot. Broken. Alone.
Alone, alone, alone, so very alone .
“Dame Skyla? Please tell us what’s happening!” Angelica pleaded.
Oh but how could she?
How could she tell her Sky Dancers - sweet, innocent children as they were - that her body was essentially killing itself in its need to breed? That she, as a Bonded female, was biologically driven to mate each spring to attempt to create the next generation of fairy children? How was she meant to tell them that, unless she betrayed her darling Skyler and bred the first available male she could find, that her magic would burn and burn and burn until her body simply gave out.
It would not do.
She would not do that.
So instead, Skyla gathered what strength she had left and smiled, cupping Slam and Breeze’s cheeks with trembling palms.
“I’m merely struggling to get rid of this cold, my dears. Thank you so much for your concern. Perhaps I simply need more rest. Slam, Breeze, do you mind escorting me to my rooms?”
There was a look exchanged between her boys - oh, her two darling boys - and then she felt them steady her with hands on her back and under her arms. Breeze took care to support her waist, his gentle touch setting her nerves alight, much to her dismay. Slam seemed determined to nearly carry her to her rooms.
To her left, Slam mumbled something under his breath to Jade; she had trouble discerning exactly what was said; however, she did not need to be a genius to have an educated guess. Seconds later, the girl was by her side, talking to her. Asking her all kinds of questions she no longer had the strength to answer. Consumed by the burning pain that was coursing through her entire body as her muscles finally gave out under the stress of constant spasm. She collapsed under her own weight, letting out a quiet grunt with the agony gravity exerted on her exhausted limbs.
“Oh shit…you got her Breeze!?” Slam was yelling. Distressed. But he had the quick reflexes to catch her before she could hit the floor. They both did. Her head lolled on her neck, exhausted and aching, and she could see the fear in his dark eyes.
Her poor boy. . . .
“Yeah!” Breeze grunted, eyes wide and afraid as he felt her traitorous muscles try their best to rip themselves apart under his palm. “You feeling this Slam? Is she having a seizure?”
“I don’t know!” She could hear more whispers back and forth, but couldn’t open her eyes to reassure her students that she wasn’t dying. Even if that was a lie. “Yo, she’s burning up!”
“Look at her ankles - they’re so swollen and red!” That was Camille trying her best to problem solve. “Come on guys, let’s move!”
They carried her out of the studio and to her rooms across the academy. It was no small feat given that she lacked the ability to hold herself up, and it wasn’t a short distance for her boys to travel. All she could focus on was the sound of her rapidly increasing heartbeat and labored breaths. She had to have Angelica repeat the question she was asking her three times before it registered in her fatigued brain: where was the Sky Swirl Stone?
Where indeed. Skyla looked down at both hands, trembling, far too pale, and to her horror they were bare. She had let her situation get too advanced to where she forgot to put on the glove that morning. Forgot to care for the most powerful magical artifact her people possessed. Forgot to protect it and herself. Shame welled from deep in her traitorous body.
What would Skyler think? How would he react to her in such a precarious position?
He would want you to live, you fool!
The screams of her inner mind were forced down.
“It is in my nightstand, Angelica.” She whispered, voice rough, throat dry and aching. “Boys, please unbutton the back of my dress for me. . . it is terribly hot in here.”
It was too damn hot.
And yet she did not sweat. And yet the fan whirring gently overhead afforded her no relief.
“Dame Skyla?” Jade’s voice sounded as though it came from a mile away, faint and scared. “Do you want us to put the Sky Swirl Stone back on for you?”
No.
The thought of placing more fabric in contact with her skin is enough to make Skyla wish to burst into tears. Not to mention her complete inability to control her limbs at the moment.
“Better yet, why don’t you take my glove back to your rooms and safeguard it for me?” She did not miss the look of alarm that passed between her five children. “I do not have the strength to wield it at the moment.”
“Of course, Dame Skyla!” Jade reassured her as Camille and Angelica helped to situate her underneath the covers, ensuring that she was as comfortable as was possible. “We will keep it safe while you rest and recover. You can count on us!”
“Yeah, all you worry about is getting better!” Camille assured, gently smoothing the blankets.
Angelica managed a thin smile as she helped to take her hair from its ponytail. “We’ll even keep Slam in line for you.”
“Hey!”
“Ok guys we’re being too loud - let’s go.”
“Goodnight, fairy mom!”
She got a good chuckle out of that one, bless her wonderful dancers.
As the other four streamed out, Slam hovered behind, fidgeting with his broad fingers and shuffling on his feet. He stepped back to her bedside with an uncharacteristically solemn expression.
“You let us know if you need anything. I mean it,” he whispered. “I don’t care what time or where I’m at. Please let me know?”
Oh, her heart!
Skyla managed a thin smile, trembling fingers lifting to cup Slam’s cheek. He was so young , with such a heavy burden on his shoulders. “Oh, baby. . . You needn’t worry so. But yes - I will call for you if I need you.”
Slam’s eyes shone dangerously for a second, but then he nodded, leaning forward to brush a kiss to her forehead in a gesture so tender it threatened to break her resolve. Skyla gently waved him from the room, maintaining her smile until his expression disappeared behind the door.
Skyla took a measured breath, staring listlessly as the fan whirred overhead.
And the queen of the Sky Kingdom was left to suffer her fate - her self-inflicted agony - as she had originally intended. . .
Alone.
*~O~*
The whir of the ceiling fan in their room was intolerable. Constant as the worry building in his stomach for Dame Skyla.
Another minute of whirring passed.
The whoosh! of air rushing over his skin was overstimulating.
She looked so weak, so sick. Even her eyes had been dull . . . .
“Man, fuck this!” Slam growled.
He was sick of waiting, sick of staring at the ceiling fan in his comfortable bed when Dame Skyla had looked so. . . fragile. So instead of waiting for another moment, he threw a pillow at Breeze’s head with enough force to jolt him awake mid-snore. “Come on, man, get up! I got a bad feeling about this.”
His roommate groaned, rolling over onto his side. “About what? It’s the middle of the night.”
“About Skyla. I’ve never seen her that sick before. I’ve never seen anyone that sick before.” He waited until Breeze turned on the lamp beside his bed, illuminating the room with a soft glow. “And we just left her alone .”
Breeze knew that Slam had a point. Even if it was stupid o’clock in the morning. And, really, the worry was starting to gnaw at his insides as well.
“We should go check on her.” Breeze agreed, reading Slam’s mind. “Wouldn’t hurt right? Hopefully, we’re overreacting and she’s sound asleep. And if that’s right, we’ll go back to bed.”
“Right. Let’s wake the girls up and get going. Something could have already happened!” Slam was practically buzzing with frenetic energy, throwing on sweats over his boxers and sliding into his sneakers.
Breeze rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, threw the covers off, and put on the flip flops that were under his bed.
“Let’s hope we’re just being paranoid.” He cracked the door open and looked out into the hallway as Slam grabbed his phone and room keys. “Ok, everyone else is asleep. We’re good!”
They made sure to make as little noise as possible when crossing the hall to the girls’ room, texting Angelica first to check and see if she was awake. Breeze opened their text chat. He knew it was bad when Slam didn’t make a single joke about the kissy emojis in her contact title.
You up?
Yeah, couldn’t sleep. Jade’s been staring at the stone for hours - just now passed out though. And it’s so BRIGHT. It’s starting to freak me out. I don’t know how Dame Skyla keeps it in her room at night.
Well, we’re outside - Slam wants to go check on Skyla.
I’m in. Think we all are. Two minutes?
Breeze texted back confirming the plan and waited for the girls to get dressed. When they finally opened the door – clad in sweatshirts and shorts, half asleep with messy buns atop their heads – Slam wasted no time in making a run for it. He took off at a dead-sprint for Skyla’s rooms, panic thrumming beneath his breastbone.
Something was wrong . Deadly wrong. He could feel it.
“Hey, wait up! Not all of us are awake!” Camille complained as the group broke into a sprint to keep up with Slam.
“What’s his deal? It’s not like she’s going anywhere.” Angelica griped.
As Jade watched through bleary eyes, she noticed the blonde stuffing Dame Skyla’s glove into the pocket of her sweats. Panic crawled up her throat when she realized the gemstone no longer shone, no longer lit the hallways with magic. “Did you seriously just shove her glove in your pocket?! She’s gonna lose her mind .”
Angelica made a shrugging motion, breathing a bit heavier from their pace. “Eh, I think it’ll be okay! Besides, I think Slam’s really worried, and now I am, too. The Stone changed color and everything!”
Breeze stumbled, wide eyed in shock and concern. “It did? Why didn’t you say anything SOONER, Angelica?! That could be important!”
Angelica pulled half of the glove out of her pocket with a guilty expression, gnawing her lower lip. “It only changed colors like an hour ago, and Jade had finally gone to sleep, so I didn’t want to bother her! It didn’t even cross my mind that it could be really connected to Dame Skyla! I don’t know what color change means, anyway.”
Camille frowned. “Well, it can’t be anything good. It’s never been that color before.”
And she was correct. The stone had gone from clear, sparkling sapphire - deep and radiating magic - to a thick, cloudy blue. It was as though smoke had filled the Sky Swirl Stone from the inside out. Choking it. Smothering it.
It was an ominous thought.
Slam kept his pace without thought, adrenaline thrumming in his muscles, in his veins. He KNEW something was wrong. Knew it deep in the pit of his gut.
Dame Skyla smiled up at them, wan and thin and so exhausted , and he felt his breath stop.
Dame Skyla, sweating and pale and quiet. Too tired to even run through the basic warmups of their newest routine.
Dame Skyla - his fairy mom, the one who believed in him more than anyone, including his actual parents - so ill she couldn’t even find the strength to walk back to her rooms. So hot against his skin it almost hurt.
Tears threatened to burst through, but he shoved them down. No time for tears. Dame Skyla needed them.
They reached Skyla rooms within ten minutes of running, huffing and gasping for breath outside the crystalline butterfly doors that led into her apartments. Whirl and Twirl greeted them at the entrance, whining and barking desperately, nipping at their pant legs with the intent of dragging them down the hall. Their little bodies were practically vibrating with fear and confusion. Emotion lit their big brown eyes.
There was a collective gasp and a sinking feeling of panic pushed through the group.
“Alright, big guys, we hear you! We’re going!” Jade soothed the frantic pups, shaking off their grip and making a beeline to Skyla’s room. Slam had already beat the rest of them there.
“Here goes nothing…” Breeze whispered, swallowing his anxiety.
“Sky Dancers are prepared for anything.” Angelica said, trying to ease the tension.
“We got this!” Camille echoed as Slam slowly eased the door open, creeping into the bedroom so as not to disturb Skyla if she was sleeping.
A beat of silence, heavy and pressing.
Then a strangled gasp, a thud of something hitting the floor.
“GET IN HERE! FUCKING NOW!”
It took less than a heartbeat for the rest of the dancers to burst into Skyla’s room. They found Slam, knelt on the floor, cradling Dame Skyla to his broad chest with a look of abject terror on his face.
He looked up at them, tears streaming, and whispered, “She’s burning up! Her heart’s too fast - I can FEEL it - and she’s not breathing good and. . . and. . .”
Jade took control in a moment. She dropped into a crouch by Dame Skyla’s head, fingers just brushing her too-pale forehead before jerking them back in surprise.
Their queen - their fairy mom - was so hot it was somewhat painful to touch her. And yet she remained deadly pale, dark circles beneath her eyes and a high flush on her cheeks. She twitched with agony every time she breathed, shallow and raspy. Slam was murmuring to her under his breath, gently rubbing at the bare skin of one pale arm.
But Skyla did not move.
She moaned, clearly in agony.
Skyla still didn’t move. Didn’t respond to them.
“Jade, what do we do?! What do we DO?!” Slam wheezed. “She’s never been sick like this before! Is it some fairy shit?!”
Breeze was there in a moment, dark hand even more stark now that Skyla looked like a damned corpse. His dark eyes were focused, a kind of forced calm radiating from him. He and Jade shared a loaded glance, seeming to come to the same conclusion before Jade spoke again.
“This is way more than what we can take care of,” Jade whispered. “We need help. FAIRY help. We’ve gotta take her to the Sky Kingdom and pray we aren’t too late.”
Angelica had begun crying, her fingers trembling as she pulled the Sky Swirl Stone out of her pocket. It was no longer smoky, dull. Instead, it burned fiercely, violet and pulsing angrily with every labored breath Skyla took.
“How the fuck are we gonna make the Stone work?!” Slam half choked, half screamed. Skyla’s breathing was even starting to slow down, making the stone pulse a deeper violet.
“I don’t know!” Jade yelled, frustrated. She took the glove from Angelica and stared at the Stone intensely. It’s rapidly changing colors and increased murkiness made her feel as if she held a ticking time bomb in her hands. Except, when the stone would inevitably turn a deep purple permanently, what would that mean for Skyla?
She didn’t want to find out.
“Ok, ok... Slam, Breeze, let's move to the music room! Can the two of you carry her without jostling her too much?”
They nodded, pulling the sheets from the mattress to wrap her in for modesty. She must have stripped down further before losing lucidity because she was wearing barely anything more than a scrap of silk for a nightgown. No one wanted to bring her through the portal to be leered and stared at by the entire palace. In their minds, she wouldn’t want that either.
Once everyone felt comfortable leaving, the boys gently gathered up the limp body of their beloved teacher and mother and gingerly made the journey across her apartments and across the academy carefully minding their fragile cargo. She was a tall and slender woman, yes, but the fever made her feel ten times heavier in their arms, complete dead-weight. And yet, the unease, the fear plagued every rushed step towards the Wingdom.
What if this was a terrible idea after all, and taking the (soon to be) dead body of their queen back to the palace would trigger instant upheaval and their immediate arrest? Is this how fairies died?
“Almost there, Slam!” Angelica encouraged, doing what she could to help the boys offload some of the physical labor. Skyla had gone suspiciously quiet during transport, and Angelica had taken it upon herself to see if she was still breathing. To keep oxygen in her lungs. She cradled their fairy mom’s head in her hands, gently keeping it from lolling into an uncomfortable position.
“Guys, we have to hurry!” She said, cupping Skyla’s cheeks and brushing the hair from her face. “She’s running out of time!”
“FUCK!” Breeze yelled as they made the ascent up the spiral staircase of the music room, cursing the fact that the Wingdom music box was at the very top floor. “Jade, start saying the words!”
“Oh we’re not doing this again!” the only logical one of the bunch argued. “Last time we impersonated Skyla we got trapped in the past!”
Slam was not having it. Not here. Not today. “I think the Stone will give us a pass this time.” He grunted, shifting Skyla’s weight to be more secure for flying. “Its queen is literally fucking dying! So either do the shit or I’ll snatch the Stone myself and do it for you!”
Jade looked at Skyla’s bloodless face, thinking of all the things she had done for them. All the hours spent guiding them, coaching them. All the times that Skyla had comforted and soothed her in the absence of her biological mother, kind and soft and so generous. She looked at the panicked, terror-stricken faces of her friends, took note of the deathly heat radiating from Skyla - from her mother - and made the decision.
After all, what other choice did they have?
Taking a deep breath, she held the glove high and emulated Skyla to the best of her ability.
“By the power within me, as queen of the Wingdom, I summon my Sky Dancers to defend my kingdom!”
They all held their breath, waiting for the golden music box to open at the hinge and suck them all in the vortex. No change. The Stone seemingly would not be commanded by anyone other than the monarch, no less a human.
“Goddamnit, you stupid, over-hyped excuse for a magic ROCK!” Angelica shrieked, reaching a pitch that made Whirl and Twirl cower away. “We need to GO!”
“I don’t think yelling at a magical conduit that can turn itself into a laser cannon is the smartest idea, Angelica.” Camille deadpanned.
“The stupid thing can GET FUCKED as far as I’m concerned.” The blonde growled. “Wait until I have the Tinker remove it from the glove and smash it into teeny tiny pieces !”
Seemingly in response to the threat of dismemberment, the Stone glowed violet once again, the baby hairs lifting along their napes in warning, and enveloped the Dancers and their queen into their winged forms. Slam and Breeze groaned with the change, now having to deal with the sheer volume of Skyla’s wings.
“Dude be careful and don’t touch her wings!” Slam admonished as the music box opened and started glowing, kickstarting the process of drawing them into the Wingdom. “You know what she said about how sensitive they are.”
“Sorry bro, it’s just a bit hard NOT TO!” Breeze yelled back, bearing the brunt (and mass) of the pastel extravaganza protruding from Skyla’s back.
“Yeah, well try harder!” The hot-headed ginger snapped.
“Both of you knock it off!” Jade interjected, a hand on each of their broad shoulders.
They were all stressed, and a useless fight wouldn’t help anyone.
“Alright, here we go!” Camille announced as they started to be pulled into the music box, “Better hope the council is in a good mood today….”
The light and magic from the music box washed over them in a tidal wave, hot and stinging in a way it had never been before under Skyla’s calming influence. Slam and Breeze clung to Skyla’s overheated body, hearts thrumming in their chest at the sudden freefall they found themselves in.
A few moments later, the wind caught beneath five pairs of wings, lifting them onto the thermals and stalling their freefall. Jade quickly took point, directing the frantic rush into the Wingdom. Angelica was still trembling with anger, tears falling from her crystalline eyes, but Camille was right behind her, ready to offer quiet words of support each time she looked ready to burst into tears.
“Camille, Angelica - I think you two are going to be the fastest of all of us,” Jade yelled over the rush of wind. “Go find a council member and the Tinker - get them to the palace NOW!”
With nods, the pair shot off, twin blurs of pastel light against the darkened sky. Jade, Breeze, and Slam were left in their wake, clinging to whatever strength they had left by the tips of fingers.
“C’mon boys - show me what you got!”
Slam growled under his breath and took even more of Skyla’s weight, ignoring the incredulous look that Breeze shot him. He picked up speed, too focused on the weak, too-rapid beat of Skyla’s heart against his palm to notice that they were beginning to descend towards the palace. Breeze started to panic, looking behind him at the trajectory they were on, eyes widening.
“Shit….SLAM!” He yelled, hitting his shoulder with his free hand. “Brace for impact!”
The determined redhead didn’t realize what his friend was saying at first, but he had to force himself to refocus on the flight path that had them about 30 seconds away from crashing into one of the palace’s towers. Behind them, Jade was screaming at them to correct their course.
It was too little, too late.
“Shit shit SHIT!” Slam yelped, trying to course correct at the last second, even pivoting his body around so that when they inevitably ate a mouthful of gold and stone, Skyla wouldn’t be harmed. “Breeze, this is gonna hurt!”
Both boys curled around their queen and squeezed their eyes shut as the group made contact with the ground. Just not in the way they wanted. Slam screamed as his shoulder impacted the palace at full force, the stone doing its best to bruise and scrape his entire right arm.
“OW! SON OF A BITCH!” His arm was on fire and the affected wing was no better. He knew he was cut up and bleeding, and looking over at Breeze (who smashed his whole back into the tower) was like looking into a mirror.
His ears rang. His head was swimming with pain and the impact. But Slam knew, deep in his heart, that he was going to be able to get through this. He had to get through it. Skyla needed them.
Jade landed in the crash zone moments later. Her magenta eyes were wide, frantic, as she slid to a stop near them.
“Is Dame Skyla ok?” Jade squeaked, hands fluttering around them, unable to stay still but unsure of what was safe to touch.
Breeze groaned, unable to move from their crash site, but managed to grunt an affirmative. The pain was simply too much, and he figured waiting for help was the smarter move, anyway. They were crossing their fingers and holding their breath that the human shield they created protected Skyla from most of the impact.
“Hard to tell since I can’t move my head or neck - I think so? She didn’t get hit, I made sure.” Slam fell back against the ground, wincing in pain when his tender skull collided with the marble. The longer they laid there, with the weight of a fully grown woman on top of them, the more hellish the pain got. The more aware they became of the overwhelming heat radiating from Skyla’s slender frame.
“Dude, where are the girls? Skyla’s knees are pressing into my ribs!” Breeze growled.
Jade immediately got to work adjusting the queen’s limbs. It was difficult moving; however, she knew that the boys would not be able to get up or have their injuries assessed in their current state.
“I don’t even know what part of the palace we crashed into! How are they gonna find us?”
“I’ll be up and waving them over,” Jade cut in, quickly prodding the bruising along Slam’s ribs.
“You’re a shitty damn pilot, Slam.” Breeze moaned, doing the best he could to help Jade nudge Skyla’s body off of his chest without disturbing her.
“Excuse me! It wasn’t exactly an easy task!”
“Whatever.” Breeze wished he had his phone; he knew that phones didn’t work in the Wingdom but still . “Guess it could have been worse.”
Slam flipped him off the best he could and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the burning sensation that radiated along his body. “Yeah, we could have sent you to fly ahead for help! We’d be here all night!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Breeze coughed, getting more annoyed with Slam the longer they laid there waiting for the girls. Skyla was still disturbingly unconscious, and he knew that Slam was freaking out internally just as much as he was. But the only thing he could do was stare at the clouds in the sky for what felt like hours before he heard a number of voices far away in the distance above them, both male and female.
“Oh my god, Camille! There they are, I see them! Right there!”
“Where? By the West Tower?”
“Duh! Am I the only one with eyes?”
As they drifted in and out of consciousness, Breeze and Slam could only catch bits and pieces of the voices flying towards them.
…… “And you’re sure Her Majesty is with them?”
“Of course we’re sure, you stuck up old man!......faster you guys…..looks like they crashed!”
Breeze exhaled slowly but surely, relieved that they weren’t going to be doomed to suffer for much longer. As the voices got louder, and familiar bodies came into view, he and Slam let themselves drift off into unconsciousness.
~*O*~
Angelica was fastest of the group, second only to Slam. She knew it. Took pride in it. Gloated about both that and how gloriously sparkly her wings were every solitary chance she got.
But right about then she felt like someone had strapped her with all the speed of an upside down turtle.
The city below them was dark and quiet, almost ominously so, with only the glow of the full moon to guide her and Camille towards where they knew the council members lived. Angelica could feel panic trying to claw its way up her throat, anger following right behind it, gnawing at her ribcage. Behind her, Camille was trying to talk over the early spring wind.
“We should split up! One of us should go get the Tinker to make sure at least someone is on Queen Skyla’s side!”
Angelica snorted, fighting down the urge to roll her eyes. It truly took a lot to irritate Dame Skyla - really, it was almost obscene how patient their fairy mom was - but the council members seemed to consistently get on her last nerve. They were a traditional, wealthy group of old geezers who didn’t understand that having a queen to rule them was just as good as having Skyler back. . .
It pissed her off.
“That makes sense. You want me or you to get him?” Angelica called back.
Camille did a remarkably good impression of The Look that Skyla sometimes gave her (particularly when she was drifting into La La Land during rehearsals), and it made Angelica wince a bit. “I’ll get Tinker, you get stuffy old bastards, got it.”
With that, Angelica folded her wings and dived precariously towards the sleeping city below. The rush of cold night air on her skin was soothing, almost icy, but it kept her sharp. Kept her on task rather than thinking about Skyla. Burning and pale and so so still. . . .
Angelica shook out of her reverie with just enough time to avoid a bridge, barrel rolling beneath the structure and snapping her wings open to catch the gentle updrafts that ran through the streets. By now, the way to The Tinker’s home and workshop were ingrained in her muscle memory. But she was clumsy and irritated and didn’t trust herself not to fuck this up somehow. So Angelica focused, focused harder than she ever had before.
Angelica, baby, I know you wanted to be a doctor but. . . . I think we should focus on your strengths rather than silly dreams, don’t you? You’re very good at dance, though!
The words her mom had once said to her came rushing back accompanied by a wave of nausea. She’d been eight. Eight years old, not very good at school, but wanting to do something to make her mommy and daddy proud. But then her mother had looked her dead in the face, said that, and the dream was gone. So she focused on dancing instead. Practiced and practiced until her feet were raw, and her knees hurt, and her shoulders ached so bad she could hardly stand it.
And it still hadn’t been good enough.
Until Dame Skyla had smiled at her after her first performance at High Hope, statuesque and regal and so kind , and told her that she was proud. Sixteen years, and that had been the first time someone had ever been proud of her. . .
Tears burned Angelica’s eyes as she came to a skidding stop outside The Tinker’s home, bashing on the front door with her fist until she heard movement inside. “TINKER!! TINKER, OPEN UP! IT’S AN EMERGENCY!!”
She wouldn’t let Dame Skyla down.
Not now, not ever.
The door flew open, revealing a disheveled Tinker in a bright violet dressing gown. “Angelica? My child, it’s as dark as the eye can see. What could be such an emergency that you woke me?”
It was then that he seemed to see the tears on her face, his irritated expression morphing into one of concern. The old man wrapped her in a tight hug, hand cradled to the back of her head as Angelica tried her very best not to burst into tears.
“Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Whatever is there to fear?”
Angelica pushed away from him in a heartbeat. “Tinker, you have to come! Dame Skyla is so sick! She’s got some sort of weird. . . hot fairy disease! She’s running a fever and she hasn’t had any energy and now she won’t wake up and. . . you have to come! Camille’s getting the council members right now.”
The Tinker’s eyes widened, then grew very hard. Stoney in a way she’d never seen them before. “Take me there. Quick! We haven’t a moment to spare!”
Angelica nodded, wiping away her tears with a shake of her head, and jumped into the sky. The Tinker was right behind her, his wings huge and powerful as they took to the thermals that swirled throughout the Sky City. The palace loomed overhead like an omen, dark and still. A mountain overlooking the people below.
She’d always thought the many windows and balconies looked kind of like skull eyes in the dark. And, in her panic, they looked even moreso.
Angelica took a deep breath, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that Tinker was keeping up. He was, seemingly without issue, and she wondered just how strong he was. How much power he’d been hiding all these years.
Then she caught sight of Camille arguing with a few of the council members midair, and she lost the train of thought.
“Hey!” she yelled. “What’re you all just floating around for!?! Queen Skyla may actually be dying!!”
One of the council members - an old, balding man with a paunch and angry amber eyes - turned and scoffed at her. He seemed to sneer down his long nose, very clearly unhappy with the early awakening.
“Young lady, you may be a Sky Dancer, but you are also distinctly not a fairy,” he sneered. “I’m certain that you and your. . . colleagues are misinformed as to the true seriousness of the situation.”
Angelica bristled at the disdain in his voice, magic crackling over her skin. “Alright, dickless the clown, listen - “
The Tinker cut her off before the tirade could truly begin. “Lord Cielo, it is indeed late. But knowing the virtue of our Sky Dancers, this issue cannot wait!”
Despite the familiar cadence of rhyme in his words, the Tinker’s tone was colder than Angelica had ever heard before. Next to her, Camille shivered slightly, and a warm hand wrapped around her elbow. For the first time since arriving, Angelica realized just how cold she was, skin covered in goosebumps in the late-night chill.
Lord Cielo narrowed his eyes, and the disdain that he’d displayed towards the younger girls was also evident when faced with the Tinker. He glanced at the tall, middle-aged man to his left, then the other to his right. The trio of worms looked like they wanted nothing more than to argue the point until well past daybreak.
“This issue does not concern them! And frankly I will not be disrespected any longer by Her Majesty’s pet projects, especially when she is otherwise indisposed and incapable of shielding them from any sort of consequences for their behavior.”
The Tinker looked ready to toss him into the same tower that Slam and Breeze had crashed into. “By slandering the royal Sky Dancers, you slander Her Majesty. Whether they be fairy, or human.”
Lord Cielo bristled, preparing to defend his point of view by getting in the Tinker’s face, and Angelica shivered in disgust at how oily he seemed. “I slander no one except for this rude, insolent, human child that thinks she’s above our customs.”
At that moment all desire to take these men to Skyla had vanished from her body, but it had to be done. She reluctantly readied herself to fly forward and lead them towards where she was almost positive the boys and Jade had landed, when Camille muttered “Gosh, that dude is creepy.”
That was an understatement. “Reminds me of a really fat greased weasel. Or Snape from Harry Potter mixed with a cave troll.” Angelica remarked in her most sarcastic, bitter tone to date, a feat which would have had Slam high-five her with enthusiasm if he had heard it.
Camille snorted. Maybe too loudly. The Lead Weasel shot her a look that was pure venom mixed with disgust. And it made Camille shrink back in fear, triggered by a gut reaction from years of not living up to her father’s expectations.
Taking a deep breath, Camille drew back slightly before lifting her chin. She was a Sky Dancer ! She wouldn’t be treated like a pathetic, whining child by some over-greased morally-corrupt high-class weasel that thought he was the gods’ gift to fairy-kind. Beside her, Angelica bristled, opening her mouth to clap back at the fat old man. She never got the chance, however; the Tinker stepped in before she ever had the chance to.
“You, sir, will NOT speak to her so!” Tinker growled, eyes flashing with a silver light. “Lest my true powers I be forced to show.”
The night sky about them swirled with a gust of cold wind. The bright moon overhead seemed to darken, dipping them into near-total darkness for all of a second before the light returned. Angelica and Camille shot each other wide-eyed looks, shocked by the display of power that Tinker had made. For them .
They rounded a corner to find Jade yelling and waving them down, the mild humor that she’d found in the situation disappeared. Angelica was left with a sick feeling in her guts again.
Slam and Breeze were on their backs, Skyla sprawled across their torsos.
And she wasn’t moving.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Angelica hissed under her breath. “Oh my God, Camille, I see them! Right there!!”
Camille was quickly by her side, eyes widening at the sight before her. “Where, by the West Tower?”
There was a flash of anger that pulsed through her, so strong that Angelica couldn’t bite down the impulse to be snarky. “Duh! Am I the only one with eyes here!?”
Councilman what’s his nuts - the one with the fancy name Angelica never bothered to learn - scoffed behind them. “Are you sure Her Majesty is with them? It simply seems as though your esteemed cohorts have gotten their wings tangled.”
The anger escalated, especially now that she could see Jade waving them down frantically, and she snapped, “Of course we’re sure, you stuck up old man!”
Camille jumped in before Angelica’s temper could take over. “It looks like they’ve crashed - they could be really hurt, guys!”
It took a second, maybe two, for Tinker to dart past them in a rush of air that shocked Angelica more than she cared to admit. The older fairy was quickly kneeling beside Slam’s prone body, and she could just barely make out the words he was muttering to her friend. Bile crawled up her throat when she saw just how still Breeze was.
Almost as still as Dame Skyla, body pale and too reminiscent of a corpse for her liking.
For a second, it seemed as though the councilmen were actually going to take them seriously now. But Angelica didn’t have her hopes up. Not with the fear so stark and raw.
Angelica landed next to Breeze, skidding to a stop and kneeling down next to her friend’s prone body. “Breeze? Breeze, c’mon - this isn’t funny! Wake up and look at me, okay?”
Groaning, he cracked open his dark eyes to squint up at her. “Angel?”
There was a flutter of something in her belly at the nickname, and Angelica let out a watery laugh. “Not sure about an angel, but I’ll take the compliments where I can get them.”
Breeze cracked a watery smile. “Definitely an angel. . . not quite like Dame Skyla. But still an angel.”
Gently, very gently, Angelica helped Breeze to sit upright, watching as Jade and Tinker worked to move Queen Skyla’s prone body off the boys. He groaned, clearly uncomfortable, and held his left wrist at an awkward angle. “How are you feeling? What hurts?”
“Are you kidding? It feels like Slam dropped us into a fucking marble wall. Which he did .”
Angelica flicked him on the forehead, lips pulled into a pout when he flinched away. “Be serious! What hurts? Did Queen Skyla get hurt?!”
Breeze turned sheepish. “Sorry. Mostly it’s just my ribs and my wrist. I think we managed to keep Queen Skyla safe from the brunt of it, though. I thought Slam was going to turn himself into a human crash mat.”
Raised voices from both Tinker and the council members caught their attention, and so Angelica and Breeze turned to face the commotion, arms wrapped around each other.
“.....you can not be suggesting what I think you are!” The Tinker’s voice had gone so loud, so high, it was almost jarring. He was standing protectively over Skyla’s body like a father figure, ready to strike at the group of councilmen that were trying to manhandle her how they saw fit. He legitimately growled at the tall councilman - fuck it, he was now Tall Bastard One - when he stepped forward to try and touch the queen.
It was almost. . . feral behavior? Angelica didn’t quite know what to think. But she did know it was mildly disturbing that the kindest, most placid man she knew could turn into a sharp-toothed, beast at a moment’s notice.
“We cannot and will not approve of just anyone in this city, Tinker!” Councilman Cielo folded his arms across his chest, indignant and pompous. “This has quite literally never happened before!”
“What are they talking about?” Breeze whispered to Angelica, trying to keep his voice down. It didn’t make sense to him that they had never seen this sickness before, while at the same time the Tinker was yelling at them for some past mistake.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think Queen Skyla can get any paler.” She focused on Breeze to keep her grounded and from literally bum rushing the councilmen.
Then, Short Bastard Two - Christ, she really should have paid more attention to Skyla’s lectures on the Wingdom - began gesturing to Skyla’s form and saying:
“She will survive the night, Tinker! Have her lovely companions take her to her chambers and we will have a list of preferred suitors by morning.”
Both of their brains short-circuited.
“SUITORS?” They yelped, again trying to keep the amount of noise down as best they could. But what in the actual FUCK?
“You’ve all lost your damn minds!” The Tinker growled (damn, grandpa!) and reached for Skyla’s wrist, making the point to describe, out loud, how she burned with fever. How it was taking him significant effort to find her pulse.
“Follow your precious royal protocol, gods damn it, and she will pass away in hours. You know this. You know how we would normally treat this!” The Tinker’s face was flushing bright red in anger. “I have served the monarchy in some fashion since I was a small boy. I tended to the Skyswirl Stone and its scepter when King Skyhawk was on the throne. I was considered a guest of honor at his son’s wedding!”
Tinker stopped to take a breath, looking at the council with more contempt than anyone had looked at Skyclone. “I will only say this once. It doesn’t matter who it is. King Skyler, who we all would agree is a great man, married her. Chose her . And I will not be the one to tell him when and how his beloved wife met her end. That will be your responsibility.”
The council members all looked as if they had been struck in the face repeatedly and doused with a large bucket of ice cold water. He was right, of course, and while they knew King Skyler was the polar opposite of his brother, they did not want to bear witness to his reaction.
Short Bastard Two audibly gulped. “It won’t come to that.” He turned and barked orders at Jade and Camille to send for a few of the palace guards to pick up Skyla, under the Tinker’s direct supervision.
Finally! Some action. Angelica actually agreed with him for once, as the boys were in no shape to lift anyone - especially not a dead-weight queen with fuck-off huge wings - anytime soon.
The Quiet One looked at his peers and nodded when they all seemed to give their non-verbal assent. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like this part.
“Send for the boy.” He spoke, begrudgingly, directly to the Sky Dancers. “Leopold Cloudweaver, eldest son of the Cloudweaver Family. He lives here in the sky city - the second house to the right off the plaza. It has a distinctive pitched roof. Patina bronze. Now go!”
Breeze, Angelica could see, was about to ask why him? What for? When the Tinker’s entire disposition turned grim.
“When you return with the boy, I will explain everything. Queen Skyla certainly won’t like it, but it’s time you children learned about our physiology. A proper lesson.”
There was a level of intensity in his eyes that Angelica hadn’t seen before, a quiet form of serious resignation that made Angelica’s stomach flip uncomfortably. After a moment, the council members began to file away, heading towards the formal Council Chamber that Queen Skyla had pointed out to them so long ago. Angelica shared a pointed look with Camille.
This was about to get far more serious than what she was comfortable with. . .
and she couldn’t help but dread what was coming next.
~*O*~
Breeze and Slam managed to stay upright long enough to supervise the guards bringing Skyla to her chambers. They watched, eagle-eyed, as the men in gilded armor gently placed their queen amongst her many pillows, gently arranging her limbs to make her as comfortable as possible. Breeze’s heart ached; despite their care, it didn’t seem to do much good. With each movement she made, Skyla moaned in agony, brow furrowed. Her skin was the color of milk, drained and pale save for two spots of high-color on her cheekbones. Sweat glistened on her brow, on her arms, pooling in the dips of her collarbone.
That was their mom .
And she was - they could deny it no longer - dying .
A quiet, desperate whimper broke him from his thoughts, and Breeze had to physically grab Slam to keep him from doing something stupid. Or, well, stupider than usual.
“Watch what you’re doing, fuckhat!” Slam growled. “She’s DELICATE!”
The guards had clearly been trying their best to be careful, but the boys could tell that they knew what they were dealing with. They worked quickly, rearranging the pillows and blankets so that she was very nearly cradled in some kind of cocoon or nest, her wings fully extended underneath her. Carefully, so very carefully, they began arranging her gown, her limbs cradled against the sumptuous cocoon they’d built for her. The furrow in Skyla’s brow smoothed slightly as the cool fabrics touched her skin, but not much. In the low light of her bedchamber, Skyla looked almost like a statue, an Egyptian pharaoh going through the initial phases of mummification. About to be entombed and enshrined in a sealed room filled with finery.
Slam ground his teeth and shuddered at the thought.
Breeze clamped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, ignoring the yelp that followed his touch. “Dude, chill . It’s literally impossible to touch her without her whimpering somehow at this point. It wasn’t on purpose. Let it go.”
Even though, deep in his heart, Breeze wanted to follow Slam’s example, he knew that he had to be the level-headed one here. The guard that had caused Skyla to whimper immediately drew back, a murmured apology leaving him, and soon the queen was fully settled. They left without another word.
And then they were left in a silent, empty bedchamber. What was once a comfortable, plush room was filled with a vague sense of dread, unease. The smell of Skyla’s sweat was oddly pleasant, like flowers and honey, but it still made Breeze’s stomach tighten with nausea.
“We should go,” he whispered, scared to break the newfound quiet. “Tinker and the girls are waiting for us.”
For a moment, Slam didn’t move. He was rooted in place, face contorted in an almost childish expression of indecision. Breeze let him linger for a bit. This was hard. This sucked . So, when Slam took a few tentative steps forward, cradling his bum shoulder and favoring one hip, Breeze didn’t bother asking him what was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
“We’ll get it taken care of, Sky Mom,” Slam murmured. “I promise .”
With that, he leaned down - only wincing a bit at the pull on his bruised rib cage - and pressed a featherlight kiss to her pale forehead. Skyla whimpered a bit at the contact but soon settled.
Breeze didn’t know if that was a good sign or a really terrible one.
He turned to fix the guards, who were now standing at attention in the corner of the room, with a hard look. “You two are going to be on guard, right?”
One of them - tall and broad with a face that looked like it’d been carved in granite with a spoon - stepped forward with a nod. “That is correct, Sir Breeze. We will be stationed outside Her Majesty’s bedchambers until such time you or a member of the council dismiss us from post.”
Slam hobbled over to them with a scowl. “You dipshits had better keep your heads on a swivel. I don’t trust Skyclone not to send his imps as soon as he figures out that Queen Skyla is sick. And last time he sent the imps, none of you assholes saw them.”
The guard stiffened, something close to insult lighting in his dark eyes. “Of course, sir. We will be monitoring closely for Skyclone or any of his ilk. Of that you can be assured.”
Breeze and Slam shared a look, unease building in their bones, but could not deny the sincerity in the man’s gravelly voice. Instead, they nodded, and Breeze extended a hand for a shake.
“In that case, thank you for your service and let us know if you or your colleagues need anything.”
The guard blinked in surprise, a grim smile on his face when he clasped Breeze’s hand in a mitt that was rough and huge compared to the Sky Dancer’s own. “Thank you. And the same to you - ask for Charlie if you need anything from the guard.”
Nodding, Breeze turned and jerked his head for Slam to follow him from the room. They didn’t turn to look back at Skyla.
Their hearts couldn’t take the sight of her, so still, so quiet.
Neither said a word as they made a slow, arduous trek back to the sitting room where Tinker had taken the girls. The night air was silent and warm and stifling. Far too beautiful for the situation they’d found themselves in. It felt almost. . . sacrilegious.
When the door opened, everyone immediately turned to look at them. It was obvious that Angelica had been crying, and Breeze’s heart twisted at the thought she’d been here crying and he’d been none the wiser. Camille looked almost manic, frantic energy twisting off her in waves as she twisted at her fingers and bounced a leg. And Jade? Jade just looked resigned. Broken, half-alive, her eyes shadowed with something that almost looked like shame.
Immediately, Breeze felt Slam leave his side, hobbling over to flop next to Jade without an ounce of grace. For once, she didn’t scold him for his clumsiness. Instead, her hand immediately found his and squeezed with every ounce of strength she could manage while trying not to hurt him. Following his friend, Breeze slowly, carefully made his way over to where Angelica was sitting. He carefully lowered himself between her and Camille. They wrapped themselves around his arms, and he sighed out as big a breath as he could when Angelica lowered her head to his shoulder. Everything was sore. He was tired.
But nothing felt as good as feeling them, safe and sound, beside him.
Breeze glanced over at Tinker. The old fairy had never looked his age before now. He’d always seemed to ooze life and light, a form of youth that made his light eyes twinkle with mischief as he spoke in verse. Now he looked every inch the tired old man, lines deep and shadowed about his eyes. A hand pressed to his weathered brow.
“Tinker? What’s going on?” Angelica warbled, voice harsh and full of tears in the heavy quiet. “ Please tell us what’s happening!”
A heavy sigh escaped the wizened old fairy, and he looked up at them with sad, serious blue eyes.
“What has Skyla told you of fairies and their biology? Anything?” His voice had left the measured verse they were all so used to, and Breeze felt dread starting to creep into his throat.
“Not much at all,” Jade answered first. “Just enough to teach us how flying works and how we can use our power moves without injuring ourselves. What has that got to do with anything?”
Tinker sighed again, kneading the crease between his eyes. “Quite a lot, my young dancers, quite a lot indeed.”
He straightened his spine, fixing them all with a hard look. “Before I get into details, you all must understand something: to be a fairy is to be magic. It is in our souls, our minds, and our bodies. It fills our every cell and bone and muscle fiber, every synapse and sinew. It is us. We are magic. Do you understand?”
Breeze could feel the dread creeping up his spine like molasses, thick and cold. Slowly, he nodded, catching Jade doing the same out of the corner of his eye. Angelica’s grip on his arm tightened just a tad. Tinker watched them all with a sharp, assessing gaze, and only continued when he appeared satisfied their attention and understanding was firmly on him.
“Good. That being said, our biology is quite different from humans. Humans do not have intrinsic, magical connections to their spouses - what we refer to as mates - in the same way fairies do. When a fairy finds their mate, the marriage ritual forms a bond between their magic. Between their souls. And this bond creates a drive. A biological imperative, if you will.”
Jade suddenly sat bolt upright. “You’re talking about a mating drive, right? Like when animals in nature have breeding seasons.”
Tinker nodded. “Correct. Fairies are in-tune with nature and its beasts on a far deeper level than humans. And this is because of our magic. Naturally, we have a much higher drive to mate during spring, as this is the ideal time to mate and produce offspring. The common vernacular for this drive in mated couples is Heat.”
Angelica sniffled and interjected, “This is really cool and all but what the actual fuck does this have to do with Dame Skyla getting sick?!”
Breeze felt a sudden jolt of sick realization, and the poison of dread began melting into his bones. “It’s the Heat, isn’t it?” he murmured. “The Heat is killing Dame Skyla.”
Tinker nodded gravely. “Yes, young ones. I am afraid that our dearest queen has not been taking sufficient care of herself since Skyler has fallen into the otherworld. Not taking a lover or mate during Heat has serious consequences for bonded fairies, particularly bonded females. The magic is suffocating her, driving her temperature up and sensitizing her nerves to drive her to take a mate. And Skyla has ignored it for long enough it is beginning to shut her down.”
Slam sat bolt upright, and Breeze caught how his face tightened with agony at the sudden movement. “So you’re trying to tell me that Dame Skyla is so horny it’s actually killing her !?!? What the actual fuck , Tinker?!”
Tinker actually winced at that. “There is no need to be so crude about it. But that is essentially correct, yes.”
“Holy shit,” Camille wheezed. “Her body is literally rebelling because she doesn’t have Skyler to bone. . . .”
Tinker interjected quickly, a hard frame of what almost looked like anger filling his blue eyes.
“Stay your tongue! Queen Skyla loves King Skyler deeply, incredibly so. In the past years, she has never taken a lover, refused the idea of betraying her beloved in such a manner. So she fought through the sickness that Heat forced her through. However, it has been worsening over the years. This is the worst that I have ever seen her. And I fear that this year, we will be unable to avoid the need for Skyla to take a lover.”
Breeze felt a stab of revulsion pierce through him. “Wait, wait - that dude you guys were talking about earlier. . . You’re just going to have him rape her?!? SHE CAN’T POSSIBLY CONSENT TO THIS!!!”
Tinker looked so ashamed, his gaze dropping to look at the elegant marbled floor beneath them. Finery masking the dark, dank underbelly of royal life.
“I cannot tell you how I regret it coming to this. But I fear Skyla has been avoiding me for this exact reason. She knew that I would convince her to take a lover, to allow her body to heal. And she could not allow me to do that.”
Jade let out a keening whimper. “She’s willing to die rather than betraying Skyler. . . she’s willing to die .”
Tinker’s pained expression hurt. Hurt far worse than he was willing to admit.
Slam jolted to his feet with an incoherent noise. His hands fisted in his hair, tears filling his dark eyes. “This is so FUCKED , man!!! We can’t just. . . she can’t just. . .”
Horrified, numb, Breeze watched Slam’s lip begin to quiver, his friend breaking down before his eyes. He knew that Slam didn’t have a great relationship with his own mom. That she’d been distant and uninterested in him for pretty much his whole life. But it hadn’t really connected until now just how much his friend relied on Queen Skyla. How much her support and kindness really meant.
Angelica stood a second later, wrapping Slam in a bear hug that had to hurt. But it didn’t seem to register. Instead, Slam clung to her with all he could, face buried in her hair as his shoulders shook with quiet sobs.
“This is fucking disgusting.”
Camille’s quiet outburst, filled with disgust and resignation, struck Breeze right in the core. He snorted. Tinker looked like he was in his own personal hell, watching Slam and Angelica cry with tired, ancient eyes. And she was right. This whole situation was fucking horrible and the fact that they’d have to have someone essentially rape Skyla to keep her alive was. . . shit, he didn’t have the words.
But this was what their world was.
And none of them could undo what had been done.
“How long until the council members return with the candidate they’d chosen?” Jade asked, voice thick was tears and revulsion.
Tinker laced his fingers together, tears glittering in his silvery beard. “Young Leopold is in the Council Chamber with them as we speak. And we cannot stop the course of this. Not if we wish to see our dear queen live to see another day. She is too far gone for any other method to work.”
Breeze felt tears sting his own eyes, clogging the back of his throat with an ache all-too familiar. He wrapped his arm tighter around Camille, feeling his friend leaning tighter into him. The room was still. Quiet. Too filled with the knowledge of what was about to happen. What they couldn’t prevent.
All Breeze could do was close his eyes and pray to his ancestors that things would be okay. It was the only thing they had remaining.
Hope.
~*O*~
time passes differently in this place.
his name is skyler. he remembers this. remembers shape and form and sensation mixed with sentience. He remembers the feeling of magic in his fingertips and his bones and his veins. He remembers fights and smells and sounds and. . . .
skyler remembers. remembers golden palaces and treacherous brothers and buried parents. remembers the horrible winds of the death spin that landed him in this awful place. and remembers….remembers….remembers…and…
alone. yes, of course. skyler is alone.
always, eternally, interminably. alone.
the reality of this washes over him periodically, as soon as he remembers the day of the incident. It never fails to strike him, never fails to spike an ache of yearning in his ethereal breast. because while he is here, his skyla is not. his beautiful, wonderful skyla. more precious than the jewels in their wingdom, more beautiful than the stars in the sky. here he is ageless, aimless. trapped in the space between life and death, spirit and form. but his skyla is not.
skyler remembers his present and her past. somehow, some instinct, some intuition, tells him she’s aged a decade. over three decades old, his beautiful wife, and he remains static, a mere thought, unable to watch her bloom into her own as he so desperately craves.
skyler remembers her laugh. her smile. kindness. the radiance of her spirit and the gentle warmth of her beauty. he remembers how her nose wrinkles with her giggle, how her eyes sparkle when they gaze upon him. remembers the more adorable fluttering of her wings when she became impassioned. every piece and perfect particle of his adored bride, trapped in his memory like a crystal figurine. he can witness her. he can watch her from this in-between.
but the silk of her skin, the comfort of her embrace, is naught but a dream.
by the gods he loves her so.
and it is torture.
for skyler is alone.
the years pass in an amalgam, a blur of velvet passing from one breath to the next. he misses her terribly, painfully. and when she calls upon him, skyler wastes no time in using his energy to go to her side. their moments are fleeting, barely noticeable in the grand scheme, but oh how he craves them!
this form that is skyler cannot feel, not truly, so when the warmth reaches him, it comes with a jolt of sickening realization. that bone-deep sense of knowing that his dearest has reached heat of spring. her tenth one since his disappearance. her tenth heat of spring spent without a partner, without the need for mating being satiated. with each one that passes, the ghost of his own biological urges grow fiercer, more intense. and each year brings its own sense of gnawing dread.
he knows this cannot last.
and it is with this dread that the heat of spring strikes him full-force, and panic clenches his non-existent heart in an iron vice.
the heat is all-consuming, agonizing, burning his spirit from inside and out, jolting nerves that could no longer feel and slicking skin with non-existent sweat. it is needles under nails and knives on tender flesh and red-hot iron twisting in his bones. liquid iron smelted to his skeleton, binding him to the earth with sickening weight.
he is brought to his knees, staring into the in-between and seeing nothing. the heat has never felt this visceral before, and immediately he thought of her. For if he is suffering…then…
where is his wife?
where is his skyla?!
skyler clenches a fist at his chest. his power is waning, minimal, and it takes more effort than he is normally forced to use to summon his magic. but the panic is thrumming on his nerves, screaming in his synapses. find her, find her, find her!!
and the veil parts, revealing his skyla.
his beautiful, foolish skyla, sprawled on her bed and thrumming with magic, slicked in sweat. unconscious, uncomprehending. his heart aches, his eyes burn and fill with acid tears. he reaches out to touch her, to soothe the quiet moans that escape her parched throat. she’s so beautiful. so broken. and as he reaches to touch her, his fingers do not brush her overheated skin. rather, they pass through her body. incorporeal. meaningless.
his eyes widen, aghast and disappointed. the heat rises. the nerves burn. sensations are pain. everything aches. his groin is on fire .
his wife is dying.
his. skyla. is. dying !
the panic rises like acid in his throat, vomit that he can no longer create thanks to his spiritual nature. he claws at the veil separating them. acid tears burn his eyes. he screams. it makes no noise. he shouts. no one hears.
he wails .
no one is there to witness.
no one but his skyla, all sunshine curls and moon-pale skin, curves swathed in moonlight and draped in fine silk. she is beauty and fire and passion and desire and she is his , his everything , and she is
dying
and there is nothing that skyler can do but bear witness and share in her suffering.
the tears flow, and skyler bears witness, watches his skyla take short, shallow breaths of agony. traces the curve of her breast beneath her silken gown with ghostly fingers.
suddenly a memory of their final coupling returns to him with startling clarity, a memory filled with sweet moans and sweat and teeth and the smell of jasmine floating on night air. he can still feel her fingers twisting in his hair, raking trenches down the planes of his back. heat surges. fills him to the brim with an energy that shoves at his senses until all he can see is curves and skin and teeth and tits, the flutter of lashes on high cheek bones and plump lips that he wants to bite and -
skyler surges back.
his thoughts are devolving into pure lust, his breath comes in heaving pants, the pressure in his groin nearly unbearable. his fingers tremble. his stomach is filled with knots, the likes of which he has not felt in nearly a decade.
the heat of spring is taking over.
he cannot tear his eyes from the curve of her hip, tracing the dip in her nightgown at the apex of her thighs. skyler’s mouth waters at the thought of tasting her, tracing her lower lips with tongue and teeth until she writhes beneath him, fingers fisted in his hair and nails digging into his scalp with the most delicious sting. he aches for her. beautiful thick thighs and round breasts and. . .
he must leave.
he cannot. . . no, he will not , allow the primal beast of a male fairy in heat tarnish his view of his skyla. she is beautiful and precious and worthy of cherishing, but for so many more reasons than her body.
and tarnishing that view of her is neigh-on blasphemous.
so as skyler allows himself to be pulled into the in-between, he sends a prayer to whatever deities will listen that it is not too late for his love.
for what is the hope of returning to a world without her in it?
~*O*~
Of all the shitty, terrible things that could happen to Leopold, he thinks being woken by members of the godsforsaken council at three a.m. really is the worst.
The young noble yawns, attempting to scrub the sleep from his eyes as he glares blearily at the collection of old, entitled shits sitting before him. There are visible hints of disgust in their beady eyes - particularly in Lord Moonshade’s shrewd, cold eyes - but it just makes him slouch harder into the plush cushions of the palace meeting room. He spreads his legs, a haughty smirk curving his lips at the indignant disdain it invokes.
Serves the old fucks right, anyway.
“So anyone going to tell me what you old bastards want?” Leo drawls, voice rough. “If I’m gonna get drug out of bed at ass o’clock in the morning, it better be worth it.”
Lord Moonshade, head twat of the council of uptight cockthistles, clears his throat and fixes him with a hard look. “Lord Cloudweaver, I can assure you that this matter is of the utmost importance, and we would appreciate you handling it with grace and discretion .”
Leopold meets him with a sharp stare of his own. Being a noble came with its perks, sure, but fuck if he didn’t hate the goddamn protocol of it all. The rules and regulations and godsforsaken customs. It’s a significant factor that has played into his own minor rebellion, the magical tattoos scrolling across his arms and torso stark and unabashed.
“Discretion I can handle. The grace part? Well, that depends on what exactly this oh-so-important task you’ve deigned to assign me with is.”
Lord Fuckhat - okay, so it’s actually Fogcliff , but Fuckhat fits him so much better - sputters, his considerable jowls wobbling with the motion. “Lord Cloudweaver! Your attitude is highly discourteous to the other members of this council!”
Leo sneers, twisting his fingers to pull his pipe from its special pocket dimension. He was terribly glad he’d decided to pack it before he went to bed. Saved him time and trouble. The pipe lit with another lazy flick of his wrist, and he relished in the burn in his lungs as silvered smoke floated onto the cool night air.
“Discourteous my ass, get to the point or I’m leaving. It’s bad enough I have to deal with you pompous shitlords during the day - no one is paying me enough to deal with you when I’m supposed to be sleeping .”
Lord Moonshade shot him a dark look, borderline murderous. But Leopold is nothing if not his mother’s son, and he meets it without flinching.
Still, he wasn’t prepared for what would come out of the older man’s mouth next.
“Her Majesty, Queen Skyla, is in the midst of a very serious Heat. We require a young, strong fairy male to. . . service her, until such time as she recovers from its effects.”
The world screams to a halt.
Everything dissolves into a whirlwind of static and silence.
Leopold is not stupid. He’s been educated on the implications of magic and biology in how fairies mate, particularly in the dawn of spring. His married and mated friends have told him it is an experience like no other, a deeply primal connection between two people that cannot be replicated. A biological phenomenon not meant to be taken lightly.
And here the council is, telling him Queen Skyla must take a lover to get her through such an event?!
“No fucking way.” The words spill from his lips before Leo can stop them. “Queen Skyla is already mated. And I know for a fact that she has said for many years no man other than King Skyler would share her life or her bed. I will not be privy to whatever. . . shit you withered dicks have come up with to make her go back on her word.”
Lord Moonshade turns a rather interesting shade of puce. Leopold almost wonders if it’s cause to be concerned before he reminds himself that he most certainly Doesn’t Give a Shit. Instead, he takes a large puff from his pipe, blowing out plumes of smoke that weave into birds of prey.
“We are all well aware of what Queen Skyla has said in the past, little lordling ,” he hisses, forked tongue slithering between teeth that are too sharp, too white, for his face. “But the fact remains that Queen Skyla’s heats have remained unchecked and un-countered for a decade. And now it has come with such force that she will certainly die if she does not mate. Tonight !”
Shit.
Shit!
Leopold knows the other members of the council very well. He’d grown up around them, knowing that he would be taking his family’s seat when he came of age. He knows the line and how to dance around it. His ability to sniff out a lie is unparalleled. And right now? Lord Moonshade isn’t lying. At all.
Fuck.
Sitting forward, Leopold stares directly at every member surrounding him. They all wear grave expressions, eyes hard and flinty. The judgment is tinted with grave stoicism. And it suddenly strikes the young man that he has all the power. He controls the room, a situation that he - a 20-year-old scion with a position he never wanted - has never found himself in.
“So you want me to fuck the queen?”
. . . could he have phrased that better? Perhaps. Is it worth it for the looks of scandalized rage on the council members’ faces?
Absolutely .
Lord Moonshade cleared his throat again, evidence of his temper slipping evident in the sharpness of his teeth, the shadows on his features. “You have been given the incredibly important task and honor of mating with Queen Skyla to keep her from succumbing to her heat. However, if we cannot trust you to take this task with the seriousness it is due, we will absolutely find another, more suitable candidate.”
Bristling with nerves and insult, Leopold knows the glimmer of smug satisfaction in the older man’s eyes stems from his supposed “win.” His pride has always been a sore spot. But thinking about sweet, kind Queen Skyla being subjected to the tender. . . . “affections” of the other younger nobles makes his skin crawl. Idiots, the lot of them, with loud mouths and absolutely no regard for the feelings of the women they bed.
Deep in his soul, Leopold knows that if Queen Skyla were to come out of her heat after being bedded by one of them, she would never be the same. They would hurt her. And he knows her kindness too well to allow that.
He sits back into the plush couch, taking a final drag on his pipe before banishing it to its pocket dimension. “I agree to take on this task. But on the condition that you never ask specifics about my time with Her Majesty and that none of the other noble scions be allowed near her during this time.”
The council members glance amongst themselves, whispering in bureaucratic legalese that makes his lip curl with disgust. As though Queen Skyla and her delicate predicament is a commodity to be traded. Which, he supposes, it is to them.
Gods, how he hates nobility!
Finally, after a long, breathless moment of inane discussion, the sharp eyes of the other council members turn to look at him. As always, Lord Moonshade speaks first. Always the mouthpiece. Always the mastermind.
“We agree to your terms, Lord Cloudweaver. Now, we mustn’t dally. I will escort you to Queen Skyla’s chambers so that you may start your task.”
Leopold feels his nerves prickling as he follows the older man from the room, eyes tracking their progress until the grand, heavy-wood doors to the meeting chamber shut behind them. The palace is dark, still. More quiet than he has ever experienced in his years of coming here. Familiar hallways merge as he follows Lord Moonshade deeper into the palace, until he realizes suddenly that he has never been to this section of the palace. The marble columns are unfamiliar, and he is now being watched by portraits of monarchs long passed.
Lord Moonshade pauses before the most recent portrait, and Leopold tracks his gaze. King Skyler stares down at them with regal solemnity, a thick arm wrapped about his queen’s delicate waist. He looks every inch the monarch. Powerful but gentle. Stern but kind. Leopold almost feels jealous. His own father had never displayed such a temperament. But it is the woman standing beside their king that truly captures Leo’s attention.
Queen Skyla is a beautiful woman. Far more beautiful than anyone he has ever met. Not simply in physical beauty, however. Instead it is the gentle kindness in her eyes, the brilliance of her smile, that allows her true beauty to shine. The beauty in her soul. For as long as he can remember, Leopold has known their queen to be above all kind. The servant children of the castle adore her, constantly sneaking away to find the queen and listen to stories of her academy in the human realm, to beg for sweets. And they are never turned away, always met with a warm smile and a soothing tone.
To think of such a woman suffering, alone, in her heat without her mate makes his stomach turn.
“I trust you understand the importance of the task we have entrusted you with?”
It nearly startles him, Lord Moonshade’s smooth voice breaking the delicate silence. Leopold turns and glares, only to find the lord fixing him with a tired, even look. It is the most approachable that he has ever seen the man, and it makes him blink in shock.
“I do. Queen Skyla is a good woman. I will do my utmost to ensure her health and safety.”
A single nod is his response, and they continue their journey into the depths of the castle.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, they are standing outside the royal bedchamber. Two guards, burly and stern with wings that billow about them like sails, stand watch outside. Leopold is not intimidated easily. But it is difficult not to when faced with such granite-chiseled faces. He takes a deep breath to steel his nerves before speaking.
“You are relieved of duty, gentlemen,” Leopold orders. “I will be caring for the queen until further notice.”
One lifts an eyebrow, glancing over at Lord Moonshade - who nods only once - before answering. “Very good, Your Grace. You need only summon us if you require assistance.”
They march away, not glancing back as they disappear into the early-morning darkness. A solid hand claps on Leopold’s shoulder, and he is met once more with Lord Moonshade’s flinty, cold eyes.
“Do your duty. The Wingdom is counting on you. Failure is not an option.”
With that, the old fairy turns and marches back the way they came, withered hands folded neatly behind his back.
Leopold snorts. “Yeah, no fucking pressure or anything. Great pep talk! Asshole. . .”
His fingers are shaking. The pressure of it all is starting to weigh upon him. But he knows that this is his duty. And that he will not be allowing anyone to potentially hurt the queen in such a state.
So, steeling himself again, Leopold opens the heavy doors and steps through.
Immediately, he is struck full-force by the scent of night-blooming jasmine and lilacs. Heady and thick, swimming through his senses like treacle. It makes his blood warm, his head filled with smoke. Leopold feels his wings flutter in response, catching the silver veins threading through them shimmer out of the corner of his eye.
Each footstep feels like it is placed on a cloud. Swimming through mist and magic.
The royal chambers have a sitting room, full of sumptuous couches and thickly upholstered divans. But he knows that behind the curtains, gauzy and diaphanous as they are, lies the bedchamber. And in that bedchamber, the queen.
He takes a deep breath, allowing the floral scent of her pheromones to fill him, and strides through the curtains. The sight he finds nearly knocks him over, steals the breath from his lungs.
Queen Skyla, still and quiet, is spread across the sumptuous covers of her bed. She is a vision, ethereal and angelic. All pure blonde-hair and pale, creamy skin and curves curves curves , wrapped and traced in a silken nightgown, and suddenly it is as though he is drenched in fire .
He is hers .
She is his .
And this? This moment? This night in the dawn of spring?
It is theirs .