A Touch of Fey (Merry Gentry XO Adult UC) Complete ~ 5/26

[polartwins]

A/N: The two of us are so insanely grateful for your guys continued interest and utterly apologetic for our vanishing act even after RF returned. Life hasn't been too nice to Ashita lately and I got busy with school and that annoying real life thing (I'm going to be an Auntie, yay!) but! The story is still done so I am posting the next chapter now and will go back to posting at least once a week until we have it all up. Your patience and comments are immensely appreciated, we have the best fans ever, and we hope you can forgive us for our absence! *hugs and virtual cookies for all*

Saltwater

Against her will, a tear broke free from the confines of her lashes and splashed into the lake, sinking into the dark water, too small to disturb the reflected starlight. Dipping her hands into the cold liquid, she rinsed the remaining blood off of the angry scratches on her arms, angry at herself for caring, for giving Cair the reaction she’d wanted when she’d arranged for Liz’s ‘accident’. The increased attention that Liz had received ever since the press conference, along with Alex’s friendship, had infuriated her niece, and when her increasing verbal taunts produced no reaction, she had taken to using more direct approaches to express her ire. The taste of her bitter, hateful magic had become agonizingly familiar, and Liz knew it was only a matter of time before these attacks escalated too, unless Liz showed weakness by going to her father or Alex.

She bit her lip, corralling the rising fury that was welling within her now that the pain and grief were diminishing. The urge to retaliate was strong; she was young, and she had yet to attain a hand of power, but she had more than enough mastery of her innate magic to produce an equally vicious spell. But doing so would make her just as petty and cruel as the rest of her blood relatives, and she refused to sink to their level, or to involve anyone else in her struggles. She knew Alex would comfort her, would offer to help, but he couldn’t be everywhere, and she already felt guilty for how much time he spent with her, a fourteen-year-old girl, no matter how much he genuinely enjoyed her company, or so he and her other senses said.

Rising to her feet, she rubbed her arms against the chill of the evening air, soft wind ruffling her hair and bringing a smile to her face. At least she could escape the sithen now, could use glamour to hide herself from the nosy humans and once again surround herself with nature. Something made the surface of the previously calm water ripple, disturbing her regained peace, and she watched in growing surprise and wariness as a circle of water began to spin, faster and faster until it was rising in the air and approaching the bank where she stood.

Before she could react to flee or defend herself, a man appeared out of the funnel of water, the tallest sidhe she had ever seen, with hair and eyes that were every blue and every green of every body of water in the world. He was exquisite, and overwhelming, and power flowed off of him in waves, calling to something inside of her, something that had always been missing. The taste of saltwater flooded her mouth and the scent of sea brine filled her nose, a taste and smell she intimately recognized, despite never having seen the ocean.

A deep voice rumbled through the night air, shocking her out of her daze. “Greetings, blood of my blood; I felt your call.”

Liz blinked, her mouth opening, and then closing again as the sidhe watched her with disturbing intensity. What did he mean, her call? And blood of his blood, did that mean…? Suddenly a gentle hand was cupping her cheek and she blinked again, meeting his dazzling eyes, which were suddenly glinting with deep sorrow and affection. “I see why Nainsí fled; she would have wanted to spare you what I could not spare her.”

“Who are you?” Liz finally whispered, deeply shaken by the intense feelings of familiarity she felt in his presence.

He smiled, a beautiful and painful sight, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead that sent shockwaves of power tingling through her, her blood rushing in her ears like waves crashing on a beach. “I am Barinthus, little one, your grandfather.”

[polartwins]

A/N: Well, this was a bad start to regularly updating again, I apologize. First week of school is always crazy and then yesterday, when I did get on to post and managed to update another fic, my computer decided to stop working.... It's been one of those weeks. Anyways! As a bribe to forgive us for our shoddy posting, I'm offering two new updates!


HypnotiqBlueEyes: Thank you so much for your feedback! We're so glad you're enjoying Liz's journey through faedom We'll get some Liz/Michael hints soon, but it'll be a while before they actually see each other again. In the mean time, enjoy more of both of their lives!
pandas2001: Thank you for your comment! We are definitely glad to be back
LizMichael 4 Ever: Thanks so much for your feedback! You definitely should read the series, it's a lot of fun. And here's more as requested!
cjsl8ne: It'll be a while before she sees Michael, but they'll both have some good times before then Thanks for your feedback!
KiaraAlexisKlay: Yes, yes we do know who he is. I have so many pages of notes from the books and from our own research into Celtic mythology, it's kind of ridiculous. I'm so glad you loved our twist! It is kind of odd to think that this means *spoiler for books* that Merry had mystical sex with her Aunt's father in this verse...but then, they're the fey, so that's practically normal. (And given the hints about Barinthus and her father in the last book...far from the strangest connection).

Parisa

He stroked his hands over her mostly bared back, just two thin ties holding the airy fabric to her body, his heart hammering as he traced the light tattooing of butterfly wings in several shades of blue, from sapphire to aqua on her either side of her spine, the skin shimmering slightly in areas. They were hard to make out, as if she’d gotten them done years before and faded with time as tattoos were wont to do, or if they were never finished, but her age belied the possibility.

Smirking when Parisa purred in the back of her throat, arching her back as he continued to knead and trace his fingers over the soft, silky skin, her near waist length raven hair swept away from her back and over her shoulder, cascading down the front so that he was afforded a better view. Licking his lips, he flicked his eyes up, catching her dark-blue eyes and quirked a brow, leaning over to press a kiss against pink lips, his breath snagging as the taste of honey, berry and cream filled his palate, the intoxicating scent of her power teasing his nose.

“You can barely see them,” he rumbled quietly, pulling away from her mouth, flicking a heated whiskey gaze over her flushed upturned face and smiling before he turned back to the markings on her back, sliding his hands over the curve of her spine, intrigued that they seemed to go all the way down into her shorts. Teasing the edge of denim at her waist, he pressed his bared skin into her back, humming when skin melted against skin, his lips tracing over her neck and shoulder as she sank into him fully.

“I’m only half demi-fey,” she murmured, tilting her head to offer better access to her throat, inhaling sharply when his teeth scraped over the tender, thin skin of her pulse, jolting slightly when they sank into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, leaving behind the faintest mark as he sucked the skin in his mouth. “The markings are faint because I have never been to or lived in faerie. My father was exiled from the court and impregnated my mother during that time. He left before my mother realized she was pregnant.”

“Pretty,” he murmured, sliding his hands around her waist, securing her to his body as he trailed them up over the flat, almost concave plane of her stomach, callused fingertips gliding over skin that held an almost indiscernible blue tint, and closed his eyes, moaning as her energy played over his skin, pressing his nose and lips to her temple. Brushing his lips over the crest of her cheek, he cupped her breasts gently, rolling the skin between his fingers, the soft flesh slight, but the perfect match to her willowy frame.

“I’m beginning to think you have a thing for the fey,” she teased, arching and pushing herself deeper into his hands, turning her face to capture the lips whispering over her jaw, drawing a hum of pleasure from past his as he turned her in his arms, her thighs wrapping around his waist as he tumbled her against his sheets.

“I have a thing for this fey,” he teased right back, knowing that she was only giving him a bad time, both realizing this was just a step in their lives and definitely not true love, but fun while it lasted. It was actually why he’d started dating her, knowing that if it ended tomorrow, they’d miss each other, but there would be no hard feelings on either side. Given his past, as well as the strings still attached to his heart, he didn’t want to get mixed up with anyone who would read too much into his attentions.

“Mmmm…prove it,” she murmured, sighing as his frame pressed her into the mattress, a wall of firm muscle and sinew sliding against soft curves as he captured her mouth again, shivering when her hands traced over his back and he gasped as her nails scored over sweat-kissed skin, drawing a wicked chuckle over her lips. Nipping her bottom lip remonstratively, he chuckled when she gasped in turn as he tore her flimsy shirt away and tossed it to the ground.

“My pleasure,” he lofted, both groaning as bodies collided, skin melting and fusing together, his mind emptying for once of the flash of brown and gold eyes and sun-kissed skin as her power touched something inside him, something that had laid dormant and cold over the years, something he had desperately tried to forget for his own sanity when Liz left.

Not Alone

Cair’s fingers dug into her arms painfully as she hugged Liz under the cool gaze of her grandfather and the brunette’s father, and Liz effortlessly concealed her reaction to both the petty cruelty, and the knowing glint in Besaba’s plain brown eyes as she stood next to Uar, smiling sweetly. It was her birthday, and while there was no lavish celebration, or even a simple party with cake and ice cream like her mother would have thrown, Uar did expect a greater display of forced affection from her sisters and her niece. Liz would have preferred to spend the day in her room, or in town with Alex, or in sneaking another visit with her Grandfather, but appearances had to be maintained.

Finally, Cair released her, leaving Liz grateful that the sleeves of her dress were long enough to conceal the now blooming bruises on her skin until they faded. Besaba’s embrace was shorter and less painful, as was Eluned’s, and her father refrained from such a physical display, instead handing her a small velvet box. She curtsied her gratitude, knowing better than to express it verbally, and made the appropriate comments over the beauty of the heavy and ornate antique silver earrings that lay within.

Hours later, she made her escape from Court, slipping down the corridors to her rooms as fast and silent as propriety allowed, and sighed her relief as she closed the heavy wooden doors of her bedroom behind her. A low chuckle startled her and her gaze shot to the bed, where Alex was lounging indolently, his beautiful eyes sparkling with amusement. Shooting him a mock glare, she crossed the room and collapsed next to him in a less than graceful heap.

“I was wondering where you were,” she commented lightly, hiding her relief that he hadn’t abandoned her as she’d thought after missing his presence in the throne room.

“I had to pick up a certain someone’s birthday present,” he responded, tone equally casual, and she turned towards him with a wide grin, holding her hand out demandingly, making him chuckle again. “Close your eyes,” he directed, and she frowned at him suspiciously before complying, the butterflies only he produced fluttering in her stomach. His long fingers wrapped gently around her outstretched wrist, the brush of his skin against hers making her shiver as her hormones, and magic, reacted to the contact. He draped something cool and metallic around her wrist, fastening some sort of catch with a soft click, and then placed a soft kiss on the center of her palm, sending delicious tingles through her body as the warmth of his energy flared against hers. “Open your eyes.”

She obeyed, meeting his unusually intent gaze, as a faint flush spread across her cheeks at the depth of emotion he was letting her see, evidence that she wasn’t the only one who’d felt the deepening of their connection. Lowering her eyes when it became too much, she finally saw the ethereally delicate bracelet he’d given her.

The tiny golden links were beautiful in the way only hand crafted jewelry was, each of the six charms equally as lovely, and each personally meaningful, bringing tears to her eyes as she gently fingered the small apple carved out of solid ruby, matching the fruit her tree had borne just six months before and whispered, “I love it.” Joining the apple was a mother of pearl crane (her grandfather’s symbol), a small wooden book, a tiny and perfect golden guitar for her father, an equally perfect water lily for her mother, and a crowned iron heart, making her own heart stutter, knowing that unlike her, he had no human blood to protect him from the painful bite of the iron.

“It should help protect you against ill will,” he stated softly, his thumb still stroking her palm, doing nothing to stop her erratic pulse. A faint smile crossed her face at the thought of Cair brushing against the bracelet the next time she tried to ‘hug’ her, but she quickly banished the thought in favor of basking in the warmth of Alex’s regard. Part of her, the part that had been told she was less, tainted, ever since she arrived in Seelie, still in disbelief that he wanted to be her friend, much less more.

Glancing up at him through her lashes, she nibbled on her bottom lip, and then working up her courage, shyly said, “I want one more present.” He looked startled and curious and arched one aristocratic eyebrow, making her flush deepen as she fought the urge to look away from his penetrating gaze and boldly clarified her words instead. “A birthday kiss.”

A slow smile spread across his face as his eyes darkened, and he raised his hand to her face, cradling her cheek with gentle fingers. Leaning down, he paused when his face was mere inches from hers, studying her searchingly before closing the distance. Their mouths molded together and she moaned softly, lips parting as she reveled in the exquisite sensations washing through her, a slow fire smoldering in her belly as she felt his equal pleasure and joy in the perfect moment.

Even in the Golden Court, sometimes wishes came true.


















A/N: On an only slightly related side note, is anyone besides me in love with the Canadian show Lost Girl? (Which recently came to Syfy, Woohoo!) It's also about the Fae, with the main character being a bisexual Succubus, and the secondary main character being the ridiculously awesome Kenzi, who might be my favorite fictional female ever (sorry Liz and Tess, but you'll always own part of my heart, I promise.)

[Ashita]

AN: I wanted to apologize once again for our absence. Life has been rather challenging for me the past year with a death in the family along with several other very personal issues that I'd rather not get into. On top of this, Whimsy has been especially busy with school and a real life (the nerve ) and I haven't had the chance to speak with her recently. Thus why I am posting this update under my own account, since I obviously have the wrong password or I'm spelling it wrong. Sorry about that!

I would also like to take this chance to say thanks to everyone who reviewed. Unfortunately I cannot make personal notes as we usually do as I have lost the feedback due to it being placed into the Dead and Buried section. But thanks ever so much for your continued support and I do promise to update this every one to two weeks for real this time!

And now, to make up for our egregious lack of updates, I will give you the next two drabbles....

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Something Different

Standing on the rocks overlooking the reservoir, he rubbed the back of his neck, a faint sheen of sweat dotting his brow as something inside him coiled and tensed, yearning for the cool glide of water along his skin, yearning for the taste of salt on his tongue, the elusive scent of ocean, one he’d only smelled on Liz, haunting him. At first he thought that the desire to swim, to be near the water, was just because it had been a blistering hot summer, the desert scorching his skin. But no one else seemed to fight the dry heat as much as he did and all were content to stay indoors in the air conditioning.

No, this was something different.

A new taint or flow of power rippled under his skin and through his veins; something that had awakened recently, or maybe he’d just become more aware of it since he’d been with Parisa, her power making him realize that something was off about his own, a strand different from Max and Isabel. While he still had the faint, sweet taste of metal on his tongue, he also tasted of soot and earth and a touch of brine from the sea, although how he knew the latter when he’d never seen the ocean, he had no idea.

Max and Isabel were…alien in taste despite the human DNA grafted to their alien genetics, those same genes coming to the fore and overshadowing any other flavor that may have come through. And it unsettled him, left him reeling and confused, wondering why he was different when they should have been the same.

Staring out over the water, he shivered as his skin pinched, tight with energy as the waters seem to whisper to him, its pulse thrumming in his head, its song flowing through his heart as it stroked against his powers, curling through his blood like ice and beckoning, enticed him into its liquid depths. Swiping his hand over his forehead, he knew that this wasn’t the body of water that voice was crying out for, but it was the best he could do given that he was landlocked by miles of desert, a feeling that left him restless and trapped. It grated already raw nerves.

Flicking his eyes over the water, he kicked off his shoes, thankful that no one was around to watch him as he slid cotton and denim from his body, leaving it to pool on the ochre dust that surrounded the water as it lapped to shore, standing there as naked as the day he was found wandering the desert not far from here. Striding toward the edge purposefully, something inside him nearly sighed in relief as the waters wrapped around his body, caressing his skin as he waded until he was nearly chest deep before plunging under the surface, a silent serenity filling him as he submerged.

But even in that wall of serenity, he didn’t feel complete. Something was missing and he had a feeling he’d find the answers in only one place.

Price of Power

The sound of retching and water hitting the floor echoed in the corridor of the sithen and Liz stared at her palm in numb bemusement, surprised to find it warm and dry to the touch. The power that had rushed from her had been cold and fierce, as unforgiving as the ocean, and she had felt the water fill Besaba’s lungs until her sister could not breathe, reveling as strength and glee overwhelmed her helpless anger when Besaba had gasped, pain and fear flooding her beautiful face as she collapsed to the floor, clutching at her pale, perfect throat.

Rising to her feet from her splayed position on the ground where she’d fallen when her sister had delivered Cair’s latest cantrip, she towered over the Seelie woman for the first time, skin glowing as if one of the sun’s rays had been captured inside of it and tri-colored eyes radiating warm golden-brown light until Besaba was a diminished shadow. Hunched against the floor, Besaba stared at her with hate, fear, and envy of the sidhe beauty she would never have. Liz didn’t speak, just smiled, her cold and distant Court smile, and then walked away before she could start to shake.

She could not show weakness, not now. Word would spread of what had happened, even if Besaba never spoke of it, and others would hesitate to target her only if they believed that she would use this new hand of power; if they believed her dangerous in her own right, instead of because of her father, or her uncle, or her almost lover.

But the power would also make her a more significant target. Before, she’d merely been the youngest child of Uar the Cruel and an unnamed mixed-blood sidhe, unnamed to any in Court but him at least, containing enough blood to have sidhe looks and power, but remaining tainted, considered too weak to make a worthwhile ally or enemy. She had royal blood like the only mortal sidhe, Princess Meredith, and there were whispers that she too was mortal, that she too was a sign of the falling power of the sidhe Courts. As the youngest niece of King Taranis, she was several steps away from the Seelie throne, and her only use thus far in life had been as a tool of publicity.

With a hand of power however, she was no longer the insignificant and nearly invisible Princess Elizabeth NicUar, only worth mentioning because of her connections and the fact that she was the closest to pureblooded sidhe born in over a century in either Court. Now she was Elizabeth, Princess of Water, a potential power in the Court thanks to her blood, at a time when tension was rising in all of faerie. Princess Meredith faced persecution and duels thanks to her mortality and mixed blood; now that Liz was of age, at least by fey standards, and had her own Hand, she might be targeted as well, something that terrified her deeply.

Her fingers were trembling and she forcibly relaxed them, swallowing her anger and trepidation and focusing on the fact that she had just proven that mixed blood or no, she had the full measure of sidhe power, and no one could deny her heritage, or her place in Court, any longer. She might not want to be here, at least not on the terms that Uar enforced, but since she had to be, she damn well refused to be a victim.

[polartwins]

HypnotiqBlueEyes: Thanks for the comment. I really appreciated that, as well as your continued support. I, too, am hoping that life will be a little less rocky and that I can keep up with the postings here, along with my other stoies. I hope you enjoy this next segment as well.

AN: Look, I managed to actually get into the account this time! Thanks again for those who have continued reading. We really do appreciate it, especially after such a long absence from us both. Sorry this is a few days late, but my internet was being glitchy the past few days. I will make my sincerest effort to post every other Friday from this point on. I know it was weekly before, but to be honest, I'm hoping to drag this out a bit more in the hopes that Whimsy and I will have some time to actually work on the sequel together, or that I'll get in a place with my other stories where I can tackle it on my own. That being said, there may be delays given real life dmands, although, I sincerely hope not such a long one again.

Onto the next chapter!
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Palmer’s Kiss

When she arrived back at her quarters, Alex was waiting, a look of concern shading his handsome face. He instantly pulled her into his arms, her head just reaching his heart, and tilted her face up to his, sealing their lips together in a breath-stealing kiss. By the time he pulled away, her knees had gone weak as blissful euphoria flooded her body, washing away her fears and doubts until his worried question penetrated her happy daze. “What happened, Elizabeth? I felt your power.”

Blinking to clear her head, she pouted slightly at being distracted from the pleasant things his presence did to her body, but then smiled ruefully at his gently admonishing gaze, sobering as she recalled the events in the corridor with her sister. “I have a hand of power,” she stated quietly, feeling him stiffen momentarily in surprise, and feeling privileged once again that her stoic sidhe warrior let down his guard around her. “Besaba,” she paused and shook her head, unwilling to repeat the details of her sister and niece’s continuing malice. “I filled her lungs with water; I could feel her choking and,” she paused again and flushed. “I liked it.”

A smile flickered briefly across his face and he tucked her hair, not quite as long as his, behind her ear. “Good, you will not have a problem using it again then.” She smiled hesitantly back and nodded, her breath catching in her throat as his eyes darkened with desire again and he lowered his mouth to hers with agonizing slowness. Her arms slid around his neck, fingers tangling in his silky tresses as he lifted her effortlessly and carried her to the bed, tongue delicately teasing hers and sending spikes of pure pleasure thrilling through her.

Setting her down on the silk coverlet, one of his hands slid to the nape of her neck, thumb stroking her pulse point as their kiss deepened in intensity, and the other sliding down the side of her body until it came to rest on the bare skin of her thigh where her dress had ridden up, his fingers tracing small, tortuous circles on the sensitive inner skin. Moaning into his mouth, she arched towards him as his hand slid higher until it was grazing the lacy edge of her underwear, the farthest he had gone before now. Using the fingers she still had buried in his dark hair, she pulled him closer, trying to communicate without words her desire for him to continue, and gasped as he tore her underwear, dropping the lace scraps onto the floor before returning his hand to the juncture of her legs, fingers stroking and teasing and driving her wild.

Releasing her mouth, his lips traced a burning trail down her throat, his teeth nipping gently at her flushed skin and his tongue lathing away the small stings. “Alex!” she exclaimed breathily when his thumb found a small bundle of nerves that sent electricity spiraling through her veins. One of his long and slender fingers pushed inside of her and she moaned again, every inch of her body on fire as her power swelled within her, both of them shining with soft golden light that eclipsed the lamp overhead. A second finger joined the first and she crashed over the edge of an invisible cliff, crying out as the tight pressure inside of her peaked into a wave of pure satiation.

When she came back to herself, he had removed his tabard and tunic and was lifting her dress over her head. It joined her underwear on the floor and he stared at her with predatory intensity, making her breath stutter in her throat in anticipation and the faintest thrilling edge of fear. Not fear that he would hurt her, because she knew that he never would, but of surrendering herself so fully to his control, however great the rewards.

Taking a moment to appreciate his masculine beauty, she memorized the flawless lines of his face, the elegant arch of his throat that flowed into broad shoulders and a deceptively slender frame that belied the firm ripples of muscle that made up his chest and stomach, all framed by the long and silky cloud of his hair. Reaching out, she touched his pale and unbearably smooth skin, splaying her hands over his stomach and then boldly sliding them upwards, her fingers brushing against the dusky brown of his hardened nipples.

A thrumming growl escaped his throat, and his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her up to his level as he claimed her lips once again, devouring her mouth with tongue and teeth and unleashed passion. Several minutes later, when even they needed to breathe, he released her with a ragged intake of breath that she barely noticed in her own haze of lust. Gently setting her back down, he murmured something she didn’t quite hear, although she felt the answering pull of power against her skin as his magic filled the room for a moment before dissipating. Then he was pushing her down against the pillows and all rational thought was lost once again.

His tongue curled around one of her nipples and she bit her lip against another moan, the feel of his warm mouth on the over sensitized skin of her breast nearly pushing her over the edge once more. A low chuckle spilled over his lips, vibrating through her and a breathy groan slipped past her teeth. He raised up on his arms so he could see her face, and she realized distantly that he had removed his trousers at some point, his hard length pressing against the inside of her thigh. Leaning down, he whispered against her lips. “I want you to scream for me, Elizabeth.”

Before she could formulate an answer with her desire-muddled brain, he had shifted again, his hand wrapping around her hip and lifting her slightly as he pressed into her, her legs wrapping instinctively around him as he pushed past her barrier with a brief sharp pain before filling her completely, a burning ache that was both pain and pleasure. His other hand found hers, lacing their fingers together, and she gripped him tightly, an anchor in a sea of dizzy intoxication. He pulled out slowly and then pushed back in, over and over again until a sudden rock of his hips sent the scream he’d been waiting for tumbling out of her throat as a rush of ecstasy that surpassed all previous sensation crashed through her. Alex joined her and for several long moments they were both lost to the world.

It was the sound of splashing water that brought Liz out of it, and her eyes slid lazily open to see Alex propped up on his elbow above her, still inside her she realized with pleased and exhausted surprise, while surveying the room with a mix of amusement and something else she couldn’t read. Tilting her head to the side, she gaped as she saw that her bedroom had flooded, the water nearly as high as her bed. The other two rooms in her suite had flooded as well, both doors now open, and she felt a sudden sense of panic at the thought that the unexpected side effect might have spread elsewhere in the sithen.

“Do not fear, I shielded your rooms,” Alex murmured, drawing her attention back to him as he smiled down at her with affection, reaching one hand up to stroke her cheek. His eyes darkened momentarily, but then he kissed her, a sweet brush of lips that made her sigh with contentment. “You have no idea how special you are, Elizabeth.”

[polartwins]

Calphysics - Thanks for the comments. You likely missed it because we were having trouble getting into our joint account for the first update, and it weas posted under an individual account. Unfortunately that meant the old update information was still attached to it. As far as I recall, the tree survived the flood and is fine. And yes Alex was waiting for her first show of hand. It is sort of a coming of age in a way. Well not exactly of age; when they come into their powers they obtain a different status. Prior, Liz couldn't have really protected Alex because she had no real power in the court. Now, her counterparts have to recognize her as a force to be watched. Glad you liked the new part!

HypnotiqBlueEyes - Thanks! We're glad to be back! And thrilled you enjoyed the new update.

pandas2001 - Well as I explained to Cal, we were having problems updating the September post, and it may not have sent out alerts. We are glad that you are continuing to enjoy the story and hopefully you'll like this next update as well.

AN: My apologies on this being two days late, but the computer was acting up Friday and then I couldn't actually pry it away from others yesterday. Since this next two are on the short side and kind of filler, you get them both today! Thanks to everyone who continues to read! ~Ash

AN2: BTW, in the second drabble, the Mom-o-gram (in italics) is an actual version of the destiny message. However, this one was written for the trading cards that came out at the time, and was not used on the actual series. We much preferred this version, and incorporated it rather than the show version.

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On the Outside

Max watched Michael and Parisa talk amongst themselves, huddled in a corner booth far from him and Isabel, the two of them serious outside of the occasional bubble of laughter or a soft smile or tender kiss shared between them, the easy way Michael acted with her making his gut simmer with resentment and even a touch of jealousy. Not because he begrudged his best friend the girl’s company, he was even glad that Michael seemed to move on from his infatuation of the Seelie princess, but his easy way with her grated when contrasted with the tense, often contentious relationship between him and his pseudo brother of late.

Looking away from the couple, agitation rippled over his skin as they laughed once more, making his stomach turn sickly as his gaze wandered over the Crashdown diner, his leg fidgeting as he tried to ignore the whispers between them, scowling as Mrs. Parker came out of the back, her face lighting up when her eyes fell on Michael and Parisa. Watching as Liz’s mother crossed to their table with a smile, his stomach soured even further as the three chatted, Michael’s smile genuine and open with the woman who had become his mentor in a way.

She had adopted his brother, taking him under her wing, and he was glad Michael had someone to turn to when his powers exploded in spectacular fashion in front of the woman, especially given the fact that Hank had never cared what happened to his ward as long as the checks continued. She was pivotal in Michael’s emancipation as well, she and her husband standing up for Michael in court and giving him a job when he needed it to make rent and pay his way. He knew he should be grateful for the way things worked out.

But all he saw was the fact that his brother never turned to him anymore, and that due to his training with Nancy, seemed more at home in the fey world than with his alien roots. While Michael had a natural curiosity about his other side, he didn’t seem to have the drive or burning need for answers like Max and Isabel did, seemingly content to be seen as fey. He admitted that the fey or psychic world made things easier on them, allowed them to hide in plain sight as opposed to worrying that every little display of power would make them stand out like a sore thumb, but it was only an act.

Shoving himself out of the booth, he left some money on the table as he flicked one last glance at the other booth before spinning on his heel and heading out the door, his heart panging when no one was there to joke with him as he headed out, making smart ass remarks about their classmates or ribbing each other.

Standing on the outside of the diner, he looked back, watching the three joke once more; he had always felt like he stood on the fringes most of his life, first when he and Isabel were held out of school to catch up, both too painfully shy to function in their parents eyes and then outside the unit of Liz and Michael.

When she left, Michael shut them out further; not intentionally, but her leaving had left a hole that he and Isabel couldn’t fill no matter how they tried. But for a while they had managed to form a unit, until Michael moved out on his own, and then once again he found himself in a place he hated, on the outside looking into his brother’s life.

Destiny Revealed

Mind whirling, he staggered out of the caves, the pods still flashing through his mind as the words from the orbs Max and Isabel had powered circled through his head in an endless loop, filling his mind with more questions than answers. Staring out at the desert terrain, his eyes danced over ochre dirt and rock, sage-colored brush dotting the landscape, his shoulders tense, skin tight and aching as that electrical thrum, the one tasting of something alien, filled his head. Of everything his mind conjured over the years, he hadn’t expected this.

My children... You have lived before. On a planet not yet discovered where you live now. My son, you were the beloved leader of our people. My daughter, you were a brave warrior. You both perished in a conflict that enslaved our planet. Your essence was duplicated. Cloned. And combined with human genetic material so that you could be re-created as human beings...

When they came there for answers, Isabel having seen the way in a dream, memories of their past flooding her mind late one night as if something had been triggered when she came of age, he hadn’t expected to find out that his planet, or his alien half’s planet was subjugated, enslaved, under the whim of a man that had no care or loyalty to his people. Scrubbing a hand over his face, it still seemed unreal to him – Max a leader, Isabel a warrior – although in a way it made a sick sense, Max was always trying to run the show and Isabel could be scary as hell when pissed off.

And he, well hell, he had no idea what he had been. Apparently he wasn’t important enough to be mentioned in their mother’s message outside of being lumped together as just one of four with no distinction, no matter how much Isabel tried to reassure him that he had been the powerful second-in-command of the planet. If he hadn’t been expendable or extraneous, then there would have been something said about the part he played in this tragedy that befell their planet.

Their planet – it felt odd to think that. He had acknowledged his alien side in an abstract, thoughtless way, but it hadn’t hit home just what that meant for him; that he might have a family out there somewhere, with a home and a purpose, that someone else might be relying on him to come back. Yet, it felt so wrong to him. He didn’t have as strong a draw to his alien side as he did to his earthly side unlike the other two; he wanted answers just as much, but this was home, and the idea of leaving made his stomach cramp.

Our enemies have come to Earth. That is why the four of you have been sent. To use your skills, your knowledge, your leadership to combat the enemy and prevent them from taking over another race, another peaceful people. You will know the enemy only by the evil inside them. But be careful, they have learned to mask it well. I ask only one more thing, of you. Learn enough to come back and free us... Help us. I love you.

They were here, this enemy he’d never seen, and didn’t know what they looked like, what they were capable of, or hell, even what they were called, since all Max and Isabel’s mother mentioned was some cryptic nonsense about how they would know their enemy by the evil inside. Yeah, that was nice and vague, and utterly useless when it came to detecting them. Obviously their parents didn’t know anything about this world if they thought sending four children with no instruction, and limited gifts with only some nonsensical, pointless clue to guide them, would be adequate in wiping out the enemies influence.

Oh, and come home and rescue them to boot. Fantastic.

Compressing his lips, he ran his hand over his hair, the electric thrum of his powers building, coiling tightly inside like a viper just waiting to strike, the familiar burn making him flinch as he drew deep, even breaths to quell the rising energy before it peaked and lashed out at the nearest thing or person. As much as he’d like to sink into that power, to give himself over to the crackle that wrapped around his body, sending it out in a satisfying destructive surge, singeing everything in its path, he withheld, knowing that he was going to need all the excess power he could gather to defeat…whoever the hell it was they were supposed to defeat.

Closing his eyes, he tapped into the pulse of the land around him, the warm caress of sun soothing the electric burn with a feather light stroke of sunbeam, the rich, musky earth filling his nose and a dry, arid wind chasing down his spine, cooling the heat boiling in his core and he sighed, muscles loosing as tension melted away under the play of the land. Opening his eyes, he swallowed thickly, his gut twitching at the idea that this planet, his home was at risk and squaring his shoulders, he stood on the bluff, arms crossed over his chest, vowing he’d never let it fall in the enemy’s hand.

Even if it meant he died in the undertaking.

[polartwins]

AN: Ugh. Sorry, I got caught up in one of my own updates and completely lost track of the days. I've had a bit of a deluge in ideas for my stories and I wanted to get the information down before I lost it, knowing just how fickle muses can be. Thanks to pandas2001, HypnotiqBlueEyes, and Yasmania for your comments. We're glad that you're enjoying the new updates.

And onto the next drabble.

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First Blood

“I challenge Princess Elizabeth to a duel.”

The words resounded in her head, echoing like a portent of doom, at complete odds with the icy calm that had fallen over her the moment that Lord Eochaidh had shifted from insults to declaring his intent. Her Uncle, King Taranis, had shown her increased favor ever since her hand of power manifested and she became the Princess of Water. It didn’t help that soon after, Princess Meredith had fled from the Courts, upping Liz’s importance as a positive press tool for the Seelie, or that her relationship with Alex had become public knowledge, bringing with it a powerful alliance to the family as, much to her very happy shock, he had approached her father to begin discussing betrothal terms.

When she was a mostly ignored relation of the throne, no one, other than Cair or Besaba had openly showed her hostility, merely disdain and dismissal. But now, when she had the King’s favor, the love of one of the most powerful sidhe remaining in Court and the only true healer left among the Seelie, she had become a threat.

“What blood?” she asked coolly, ignoring the tensing of Alex by her side, refusing to lose the protection of her current detachment.

The golden-haired Lord eyed her with equal coldness, clearly weighing his options, and Liz let a faintly malicious smile cross her lips, knowing exactly why he hesitated. If she truly was mortal, as he’d so poisonously insinuated, he could kill her, but through the sharing of blood, she could also kill him, just as Princess Meredith had succeeded in doing in one of her duels before she left the Courts.

“Third blood,” he answered confidently, with a derisive twist of his lips, indicating his lack of fear of the threat that she posed. “What weapons do you choose, Princess?” he queried, managing to make her title an insult.

Third blood meant that no armor could be worn; no protection other than your magic and your skill. Alex had been training her in the use of knives and guns, and deemed her competent, although nowhere near his level of skill, but Lord Eochaidh had centuries of experience on her in the use of bladed weapons, and ever since Princess Meredith had killed with a gun, they had been banned from use in duels.

That left her with magic, and the hope that her new Hand of Power would be enough to overcome Lord Eochaidh’s, which could produce a dart of intense light as deadly as any blade. “Magic; Lord Alexandru will draw my blood.”

Lord Eochaidh sneered and stepped forward, one of his allies following close behind with an unsheathed blade, both of them moving to stand within the center of the marble floor which the other Nobles had cleared, circling the edges of the room with edgy, but silent anticipation, most, Liz was sure, rooting for her demise and as painfully as possible – such was the nature of the fey, no matter how sugar-coated the Seelie pretended to be. King Taranis drew a containing circle around them after Liz and Alex stepped forward, before resuming his throne, face as dazzling and impenetrable as ever.

Liz wondered idly if he would punish Eochaidh for the loss of her use if she died.

Alex’s eyes were dark and unreadable, only the thin line of his lips revealing his inner fury and fear to her, and she managed a faint smile for him as he pulled out his own knife, blade sharp and gleaming in the golden light of the room. He pressed the tip of the blade against her lower lip, slicing downwards quickly and cleanly. It hurt, a lot, but it was a necessary pain – if the cuts he made healed over too quickly, then Eochaidh’s blade wielder would get to redo them. Moving deliberately, Alex repeated the gesture with her wrist, and the hollow of her throat, the gentle caress of his thumb against her pulse as he cut her making her detachment waver ever so slightly.

“Are the wounds satisfactory?” Taranis asked, interrupting the moment, and Liz examined the crimson blood trails trickling down Eochaidh’s pale flesh and matched his nod. “Make oath to one another,” Taranis commanded.

Alex stepped off to the side, his intense blue eyes lingering on her for one painful moment, and then Liz stepped forward, meeting Eochaidh in the middle of the circle, grateful that her heels were only two inches high that night instead of her usual four. He hesitated for a moment, and Liz saw the tiniest flicker of doubt in his gorgeous tawny eyes, the smallest inkling of fear that maybe she was mortal, and that maybe with the sealing of the oath, he would become mortal within this circle too.

Liz balanced carefully on her toes, tilting her bloodstained lips towards him, letting him see in her eyes that she did not share his fear (or at least was better at hiding it) and his face darkened as he grabbed her chin almost angrily, pulling her mouth towards his and pressing their lips together, the salty taste of their blood mingling on both of their tongues.

Shoving her away, he raised his hand, arrogant smirk once more gracing his face even as she thought drown, staring at his muscular chest and picturing it filling with water as that cold, fierce energy filled her once again. A moment of unease flashed across his face as his breath halted and suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder as a bolt of energy winged through it, spilling blood down her dress and making her flinch.

Die, she thought furiously, focusing so hard that she could smell sea brine once more, and could feel his lungs convulsing as if she had her hand wrapped around them. She watched with satisfaction as water bubbled out of his mouth and he clutched at his throat after a second bolt took her in the leg, his aim ruined by the increasing lack of oxygen in his body.

A sidhe couldn’t die from drowning, not unless mortality was invoked, but it would hurt like death. Smiling grimly, she watched as he fell to the ground, water flowing endlessly out of his mouth and nose, even as her own legs began to crumple beneath her. His hands had fallen uselessly to his side while hers was still raised in his direction, and she dared to risk a glance in the King’s direction.

After one, agonizing moment, he nodded. “I declare this duel over. Does anyone argue this?” he asked with the arrogant confidence that no one would.

Arrogance that was fully justified.

“I declare Princess Elizabeth the winner.”

Liz breathed a sigh of relief when no one protested, and somehow managed to keep her feet despite the intense pain in her right leg. Hopefully this victory, and the fact that Eochaidh (whose heart she could still feel beating) had not died, proving that she was not mortal, would prevent any further challenges. The carefully blank faces of the Nobles surrounding her did nothing to indicate one way or the other, and as Alex wrapped a supporting arm around her waist, she sent up a silent prayer that she would survive her newfound strength.

[polartwins]

HypnotiqBlueEyes - Yes, Liz is quite the little bad ass now, and will continue to grow in power and strength as you will see. For the question of her and Alex, look no further than this drabble; however, keep in mind that the Sidhe are not forced into exclusivity unless the male manages to impregnate the female. Because children are such a rarity in this day and age, anyone that proves a fertile pairing are instantly bonded to each other and are not allowed to sleep with another. As to the question of how Michael plays into this, well that is still a ways out. He still has things to do in Roswell.

pandas2001 - Thanks for the comment and yes, she is finally coming into her own and will continue to grow in interesting ways. As to where it's going, well, we'll have to wait and see.

AN: Thanks to everyone for reading and I hope the holiday was wonderful for those who celebrated.
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Immortality

Alex slipped his arm around Elizabeth’s slight frame, satisfaction and the ragged edge of fury lingering in his veins after Taranis declared her the winner. Eochaidh was still unmoving on the floor, and he smiled grimly as the Noble’s blade wielder summoned a healer once the protective circle was broken. He was the only one in Court who still retained healing magic and Eochaidh’s companion knew better than to ask for his help, which meant that the injured sidhe would be forced to rely on minor spells and human methods. He would still heal faster than the humans even thought possible, but it would be far slower and more painful than the spoiled Noble would be used to.

It was better than he deserved.

Elizabeth suddenly crumpled and he tightened his grip, keeping her upright. “With your leave, my King, I will escort Princess Elizabeth to her quarters for healing.” Taranis waved his hand dismissively and Alex carefully bowed before turning and half-carrying, half-guiding his dark-haired beauty out of the room. She was so young, and felt so fragile in his arms, her usually vibrant golden skin pale from blood loss and shock. The relief he felt when Eochaidh didn’t die, proving that his lover, his love, wasn’t mortal, had been so intense that he’d actually feared losing control for the first time in centuries, and had felt the weakening of his stoic detachment – detachment that the tiny Princess had slowly been eroding ever since she collided with him in this very throne room.

Once they were clear of the massive throne room doors, and the antechamber with the Great Tree, he lifted her fully into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he lengthened his stride. The doors to her quarters opened of their own accord and he frowned briefly. He hadn’t used his powers to do so, and Elizabeth was fading in and out of consciousness; the implications given the way the sithen had brought her the apple tree, and the other plants now filling her sanctum, both delighted and disturbed him.

Temporarily setting it aside, he carried her to the bed, gently laying her down on her back. Using the knife he had spilled her precious blood with, he cut the material of her dress and carefully peeled it away from the shoulder wound, the cloth dark and tacky with her blood. Placing his palm over the wound, he let warmth seep from his body into hers. She gasped, and her eyes fluttered open, meeting his as electricity danced between them at the feel of her magic opening to his. Pulling his hand away, he brushed a kiss over the unblemished skin, reveling in the blush that spread over her delicate cheekbones as a small breathy sound of pleasure escaped her.

Moving down her body, he pulled up the bottom half of her dress until the creamy flesh of her upper thighs was exposed, and the ragged hole marring the skin and muscle above her right knee. She winced, body tensing as he placed his hand over it, but then slowly relaxed as his magic slid into her body, repairing the damaged tissue and spreading warmth like fire through her veins. Glancing up, he captured her desire-dazed eyes and smiled slowly before leaning down and place an open-mouthed kiss over the spot he had just healed, listening for the tell tale sound of her soft moan. Instead of pulling away once he heard it, he trailed his lips up her thigh, pushing her dress up with his hand and exposing her pale silk underwear.

Her hands found his, clutching at them as need rode her body, and he paused, hovering over the apex of her legs as he looked up at her once more. “You are mine, Elizabeth, always.” Then he lowered his mouth to the silk and the warm, damp skin it covered, laving it with his tongue and suckling until her hips had risen off the bed and she was keening with lust. Gently biting down on her clitoris, he held her tightly as her back bowed with the strength of her orgasm, before sliding up her body and swallowing her sated sigh. Burying his hands in her hair, he stroked her cheek with his thumb, waiting for her small shudders to pass as he memorized her face, the satin texture of her skin, the expression of ecstasy on her delicate features, the way her long lashes fluttered like butterflies against the tops of her cheeks.

It had been four hundred years, before the Courts even came to America, since someone had awakened his heart and desire like this slip of a girl, daughter and niece to two men he had come to hate, but served of necessity. And in her, he sensed the potential for a future where he, and his people, would no longer serve an unworthy King, but an eminently worthy Queen. She needed to be protected, cherished, loved, with every breath in his immortal body, until that future could come to pass.

Her eyes finally opened, the lids heavy and light gleaming in their gold and bronze depths sultrily beckoning to him as she smiled and lifted her lips to his, whispering against them “Yours always, my Alex.” Then she kissed him, and it burned all the way down his throat as he silently vowed to be hers always; her friend, her lover, her guard, her faithful subject, for as of that day, he no longer followed a King, but the girl who had effortlessly and innocently made herself his Queen.

[polartwins]

calphysics: Many thanks! We think it is an exciting time for the Seelie and that it's definitely time that new life was breathed into the court; of course, to really bring about growth and healing, one must first cut out the rotten, corrupted bits, so there will be a bit of a battle to come.

HypnotiqBlueEyes: Thanks! Always love to see your comments and your continued enjoyment of the piece. Unfortunately, there won't any Alex/Isabel. While the fey sometimes take mortal lovers, humans cannot withstand living within the depths faerie; even stepping within its doors for any reason, they often need tangible things lke iron and specialized creams to prevent being overwhelmed by glamour and other magic. Overexposure to it and the Sidhe's powers will eventually lead to becoming elfstruck if they aren't careful. Even Liz and Merry, with their diluted humanity, had problems from time to time until they started to come into their powers. And since few fey willingly leave the sithen for extended periods of time (the lesser fey can even fade if they are away from sithen for too long), it's not a viable pairing. We hope that doesn't ruin your enjoyment of the story. And we hope you enjoy the next installment!

AN: Two drabbles today! Partially because they are on the shorter side and the other,because they are directly connected to the same event. Enjoy!

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Questions of Being

Holding the metal book in his hands, he sank down onto the couch wearily, the months of preparing for battle and practicing his powers wearing on him, not to mention the time spent on the sparring field leaving him stiff and achy. Yet he was too keyed up to actually think of getting any sleep. Stifling a pained grunt, he idly flipped through the pages until four faces stared at him from the pulsing, warm metal, two familiar and loved, the other an unknown, as he puzzled out the information Kal, their so-called protector, had recently unlocked.

Rubbing his hand over his sweat-kissed brow, he wiped away the days grit with a careless pass of his hand and stared at the images, his eyes blurring slightly in exhaustion, and a touch of emotion he’d rather not explore. He wondered what exactly had happened to his sister and why her pod had been delayed. Elliava. Was she even alive? He hadn’t heard of another child found roaming the desert that summer they emerged, but he remembered all too well the floating, flowing blond curls and pale face, peaceful in repose as Max and Isabel dragged him out of the cool, dank cave and away from her.

He’d always known that something was missing; that they weren’t supposed to leave that cave and that someone was supposed to be there waiting for them. He felt a pang every time he watched Isabel and Max over the years, knowing that there was something pivotal missing from his life, a feeling he’d shelved as envy for them getting the better deal in life. But now he understood – he had a baby sister, someone who depended on him, one that had been left behind.

Frowning, his stomach clenched, the familiar burn of guilt and helplessness making it lurch sickly as he flopped his head against the back of it, staring at the ceiling with blank, contemplative eyes and hoped with everything in him that she had found someone to care for her and hadn’t ended up in the government’s clutches. Shuddering at the thought, he tipped his head back to the book and traced the symbols, his lips thinning as he wondered what they stood for, a frustrated sigh spilling over his lips as he wished he had a way of reading and understanding what was in its pages. He had a feeling that this was the link they’d been searching for all of their lives.

Feeling the slightest prickling on the back of his neck, he looked up uneasily, glancing around his apartment as he caught the faint whiff of ocean brine and tasted spice and crisp, sweet, red apple on his tongue, his heart leaping, visions of gold and various shades of brown swimming before his eyes until he shook his head at his preoccupation with a faerie princess he hadn’t seen in years. Scratching at the fine hairs standing on end at his nape, he shivered apprehensively, flicking a cautious glance to the door before chalking the feeling up to his natural paranoia and tension due to the endless waiting game he was playing with Khivar and his lackey, Niccolaas.

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, he startled when the metal warmed in his hands, a faint, ethereal silver-blue glow flooding his hands, dragging his eyes back to the book, eyes widening as the heat grew until it was just a degree shy of being too hot to handle within his bare hands. Blinking hazily as a ripple of red electricity crackled over his hands, he turned the book slowly; mouth gaping slightly as the symbols seemed to fade from the pages and words appeared, blazing across the page with reddish-orange fire.

Wishing Well

Liz stared down at the fountain she used for scrying, now surrounded by a wild variety of greenery that had transformed the room into a beautiful bower, and idly wished that it was larger. When the stone started to grow, she leapt back in shock, heart hammering against her chest in fear and awe. The sound of groaning and creaking filled the room and the stone flowed – there was no other word for it. It was like it was pulling more stone out of the ground as ripples flowed up the marble base and into the basin until it was twice its original size, without once disturbing the water within.

Cautiously re-approaching the fountain once all motion had ceased, she gently rested her hands on the sides, strangely not surprised to feel that the stone was warm beneath her fingers, and almost pulsing with life. The words ‘thank you’ nearly spilled off her tongue and she carefully caught herself, changing her words mid-thought. “It is a beautiful fountain, and it will be very useful.” One more pulse tingled against her hands and then the stone was once again quiescent and cool to the touch.

Her reflection blinked at her, a little pale as her eyes conveyed a warning. Alex had warned, and she had observed herself, that the sithen seemed to respond to her desires and needs, ever since her first tree had sprouted. It was wonderful, and dangerous, for if anyone, especially the King, became aware of her connection to the sithen – she shivered – the consequences could be deadly, at best. And now, if that idle of a thought could produce such a dramatic reaction, she would have to watch herself even more carefully. The thought of something happening in the middle of throne room if the sithen decided that she needed it…it would be bad, very bad.

Taking a deep, steady breath, she focused on the water, summoning the image of her mother, who was conveniently with her father in his office at the Crashdown, going over inventory. Smiling wistfully, her fingers hovered over the water as she ached to reach through and touch them, to feel that they truly were real, something that was sometimes hard to believe after all this time in faerie. It had been almost ten years since Uar came to take her to Court, ten years of being Princess Elizabeth or Daughter with a capital D instead of her father’s Lizzie-Bug.

Those ten years had brought more joys than she’d expected; she had truly come into her own, had been able to embrace her heritage in a way she never would have in the human world, and had Alex, who made everything worth it. But none of that took away the daily pain of missing her family, of craving the normality and stability she had taken for granted before, or her need for relatives who loved her and cared for her, and not what she could do for them.

Her mother made a face at something her father said, and he laughed before pulling her in for a kiss. Liz blinked back tears, her smile widening with genuine happiness that her parents’ relationship had survived the revelation of who she and her mother truly were, to grow even stronger, and that they still had each other, that they were safe.

With one last longing glance, she swiped her fingers over the water, the cool droplets clinging to her skin as the image changed, a brooding and handsome young man appearing. His dark blond hair was mussed and clinging to the nape of his neck in sweat-dampened curls that made her fingers itch with the urge to tug on them. His grey t-shirt was of a closer fit than she was used to seeing on his tall and broad frame, and she found herself appreciating the view of his muscles in a way she hadn’t before. Blushing faintly, she moved her gaze to those stormy whiskey eyes, which were lost in thought, staring down at the strange metal book he held in his lap.

Michael, Mikey, was living proof that she hadn’t been the only one growing up, the only one becoming comfortable in her own skin and her own life, and she wished deeply that she could have shared that process with him, her first and best friend.

He rubbed his brow, looking tense and tired, and she wondered what had given him that weary, responsible aura. What had changed in his life, and the destiny he had known so little about when she left? Did he accept his heritage? Both sides? Would he ever leave, her and Earth? If he did, she hoped that his planet had water, so that she might, if she tried hard enough, still catch a glimpse of him, continue to walk that bittersweet razor edge of looking without touching, missing without forgetting.

Alex knew of her continued observation and affection for Michael, and she wondered if the two would be friends if they ever had a chance to meet. She thought so; they were both warriors and protectors at heart, something she was now old enough to recognize in the friend she’d only known as a troubled child.

The strange metal book he was holding started to glow, and suddenly, so was the water in the fountain. A wave of strange energy, tasting like the bitter metal she’d sensed in him all those years ago, filled the room for the barest second before dissipating, the water clear and empty once more. Blinking in shock for the second time that afternoon, she stared at her fingers, the tips numb and beginning to tingle. Apparently he was connecting with his heritage and she could only hope that he found whatever answers he sought, and that those answers didn’t take him forever out of her reach.

[polartwins]

AN: As always, thanks to HypnotiqBlueEyes, pandas2001 and Yasmania for reading and commenting. And thanks to those who have read but haven't said anything. We are thrilled for the support. Hope you enjoy the next installment!

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Unexpected Answers

Pacing the living room silently, he watched Isabel read the tarnished, metal book from the corner of his eyes, fighting back a smirk, and the urge to flinch, when her mouth and eyes rounded, one slim brow arching as she looked up at him silently for a moment before going back to the tome in front of her. Flicking a glance over to the page she was staring at, he smiled grimly when he saw his face staring at him, linked eternally with hers, or at least that had been their people’s master plan.

A plan that he wanted no part of and yet, he had no choice because it was written, planned, destined if you will, before he was even out of his pod. He’d never had a choice in any decision in his life, or so it seemed.

Sighing, he walked towards the window, feeling the ties and binds of other people’s expectations, and wants, constricting his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs and making the walls close in on him, leaving him struggling to make sense of everything – duty warring with desire, past with present, predetermined design with free will. Rolling his shoulders, he leaned against the sill heavily, his eyes dancing over the cool, desert night; the bitter taste of resignation coating his tongue as he listened to his betrothed (?) flip through the pages listlessly, each clink cementing a life he’d never sought.

“Isn’t this awkward?” he muttered under his breath, not even realizing that he had spoken aloud until the book snapped shut, clanging through the room like a bell, making him jump and turn his head slightly so he met her weary and slightly exasperated gaze. Flushing, he stared back out the window, not really wanting to delve into the intricacies of their former lives at this time, but knowing that there was no way to avoid it either. In order to defeat their enemies, they first had to understand where they fit into the big picture.

“Oh, come off it, Michael,” Isabel sighed, running a hand through her tangled blonde locks, fixing him with a weary glance as he turned around, her lips quirking slightly with amusement as she crossed her arms over her chest and sunk into the couch cushions. “We knew about our relationship before the book translated itself.”

“Yeah, but it’s one thing to think it and another to have it confirmed,” he lofted humorlessly, his lips compressing as he fought the tide of obligation and burn of resentment sweeping over him as he stared off into the distance, his mind still whirling with newfound knowledge. To find out that he had more in common with Liz than expected blew his mind; the fact that his family was high nobles on his planet made his skin tighten and creep slightly.

For all he imagined, he never thought…Iorath, Lord Protector of the Antarian Forces, first born, high lord and second-in-command in the council, betrothed to Princess Vilondra – it still boggled the mind. The general part felt like a second skin, but second-in-command of an entire planet?

“It was a long time ago; another lifetime – literally,” Isabel continued, shaking him out of his musings as she clambered off the couch and walked over to the window slowly, leaning her hip against the sill as she faced him with a wry, almost sad grin and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Besides I’m under no false illusions, Michael. I never stood a chance this time around. Your heart was taken a long time ago.”

“I’m not in love with Parisa,” he refuted automatically, his tone slightly defensive as he looked away, unable to meet the frank, assessing gaze leveled on him and knowing full well that she wasn’t talking about his pretty fey girlfriend, but another fey girl who had wormed her way into his heart the first time they met.

“Who said I was talking about Parisa?” she chuckled, her laugh slightly brittle, and tinged with a touch of bitterness, before she shrugged it aside, shelving the unrequited affection she had held for many years in an effort to make the stubborn man before her face his own feelings and finally get off his ass to do something about it.

“Who else…?” Michael trailed off, swallowing thickly and looking away when Isabel stared at him pointedly, a trace of annoyance flashing in her dark brown eyes as she scoffed under her breath. Licking his lips, he focused on his hands and shifted uneasily as Liz flooded in his mind before he smirked, shrugging carelessly. “She’s betrothed.”

“Betrothed, not married,” she countered implacably, striding away with an impatient roll of her eyes and heading into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a Coke, quirking her brow at the unusual number as she knew that Michael preferred Snapple and wondering if it was Parisa’s choice of drinks. “Sort of like us, and we see where that led.”

“She’s a Princess,” he continued weakly, turning his back to the other girl, his features growing stoic and closed, although if he were honest, that wasn’t really an issue anymore. According to his lineage, his bloodline was just as royal as hers, not that he’d ever be able to share that with anyone other than a handful of people.

“You’re a High Lord, first born and second-in-command,” Isabel argued, flicking him an impatient glance, but seeing his point; he could never share that part of his heritage. “Granted, it’s on an entirely different planet, but noble nonetheless.”

“She probably doesn’t remember me,” he murmured as he turned back to the window behind him, grimacing as he recalled the Seelie Lord that hovered at her side on many a public appearance, his hand resting possessively on her waist. “After all, she has Lord Alexandru falling over her every word…”

“Jealous much?” Isabel shot back, her lips quirking when he glared at her over his shoulder and shook her head, barely quelling the urge to roll her eyes at his petulance. “Besides, I doubt that she’s forgotten you anymore than you’ve forgotten her.”

“It’s been years,” he replied dismissively, getting tired of the circular conversation that they’d had many a time as he stalked into the kitchen agitatedly, his stomach swirling sickly as he saw the destiny book sitting on the couch as he passed. Whether she remembered him or not was moot; he had duties to fulfill and he would never fit into her world no matter how much he wished it were possible.

“And yet we’ve been having the same conversation since we were fourteen,” Isabel sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation before making another point rather bluntly, knowing that nothing else would get through the stubborn man before her. “Plus, didn’t you say that you felt her presence when you were reading the book? She’s fey; they have numerous ways of spying without being in the same room.”

“Maybe; it smelled like her.” he admitted quietly, remembering the prickling on the back of his neck and the elusive scent that had haunted him for more than a decade, his heart panging with a hint of guilt and something he could never explain as he grabbed a Snapple out of the fridge and opened it, looking off into space pensively. “But I can’t think about that. Right now I have to focus on Khivar.”

And maybe one day, once his home was safe, he could explore the thought once more.

[polartwins]

HypnotiqBlueEyes - Yeah, can you imagine finding a book like that and realizing your entire life has been planned for you? I mean, I can't see Michael giving into it, but it still has to be creepy. As for when they meet up, I will say they are getting closer to that, but still have a few trials to get through alone.

pandas2001 - It is complicated and will get even more complicated as we get into the other story, which Whimsy and I were plotting last night actually. We're hoping to get a few chapters done while she is on break.

AN: And onto the next chapter....

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Vanquished

They stood on the bluff, in front of the Granilith chamber, hands linked and locked as they stared down the advancing enemy, their bodies taut and strained with tension, the power building in their cores crackling in the air as they pooled and shaped it, weaving it into a single thread of pure energy. They could feel the missing link to their fourth, a member they had never found and feared dead, as they built it, but they didn’t need that extra trace of power to complete this task. The Skins were weak on this planet unlike Antar, needing a husk to survive Earth’s atmosphere, the combination of elements in the air toxic to their lungs and corrosive to their skin.

All they had to do was trigger the seal on their husks, break the seams on their suits and stand back; let nature take its course. It seemed almost anti-climatic after the silent war they’d waged with Khivar and his allies for dominion over Earth, but they weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It didn’t bother them that it might be seen as the easy way out, because in succeeding, they would have preserved the planet as they were cloned, created really, grafting two strains of humanity, and commissioned to do.

Michael stared at the advancing Skins coldly, taking the center spot in their triumvirate as he had the strongest defensive powers out of the three and often acted as a focus for the electric burn of combined energy that built to a white-hot flash. Gritting his teeth, hair plastered to his temples as sweat trickled over his spine, he smirked viciously as the enemy faltered, feeling the rising power dancing on the wind and growing concerned for the first time, knowing how vulnerable they were in this environment.

But it was too late for them to retreat as the power rippled around the royal three peaked and time seemed to stop for a moment.

Fixing glowing caramel eyes on his arch nemesis, the general of the other side, his lips curled derisively as Nicolaas glared back at him defiantly, his back ramrod straight as he read his death in Michael’s eyes and broke formation, lunging toward the three just as Michael closed his eyes and let go of the power. Grunting as the energy throbbed inside, his body snapped taut as a wire, head thrown back as it exploded out from the three of them in a low frequency pulse, arcing out from ground zero in a hot wave, sending the air whipping around them as the low pops of seals breaking filled his ears.

Inhaling sharply, his body sagged slightly as he opened his eyes, flakes of ‘skin’ floating in the air around the three of them, the field covered in a thin layer of dust from the husks popping and whatever lying inside them disintegrating instantaneously as the air and sun hit them. Flicking his eyes over the destruction wrought to the remaining enemy, he smiled in satisfaction; relief trickling through his body as Isabel and Max relinquished his hands and looked around uneasily, all of them not convinced it was over quite yet.

They still had one enemy to take down and he’d be a lot harder than his army as he was like them, not a Skin. Khivar only preyed on the other species, a group that came from an impoverished state on the planet, promising them great power and wealth if they helped him take out the royal family, all the while never intending to share his throne with the people. He would have powers to equal their own and without their fourth, he was worried that they might not have enough juice to kill him.

Panting shallowly, he tapped into the energy swirling around him, letting the golden stream of sunlight fill his senses, gently restoring the energy he’d just expelled as he exchanged a look with Isabel, searching her face questioningly, a grim smile touching his lips as she nodded quietly, confirming his initial thoughts with her empathic powers.

“He’s nearby,” she confided in a low, quiet voice, her dark eyes flitting over the brush, shuddering slightly and grimacing as if the feel of his aura left her disgusted and dirty. Sniffing slightly, she braced herself as she warned, “He’s coming closer. I would know that scum anywhere after the way he tried to charm and lead me from Rath’s side; it was like sludge, brackish and oily. It made my stomach churn.”

“I’m hurt Vilondra,” a voice called out of the brush in front of them, gleaming blond hair catching the sun just right, so that it appeared gilded, a benign smile flashing over a modestly handsome face, in direct contention with the malicious intent shining out flashing blue eyes. “What an unflattering view you hold of me, my dear. Do you not remember how I made you beg for my touch at one time?”

“He lies,” she spat in a hushed tone, speaking for Michael’s ears only as he stepped in front of her, shielding her from the other man’s view, his hands clenching as Khivar’s mocking laugh filled the air and bit back a snicker at Isabel’s muttered observation. “I would rather mate with that perverted, little pipsqueak he used to order around, than let him lay a hand on me.”

“Bravo, you managed to wipe out my forces,” the blond man observed nonchalantly, dusting off the flakes that had landed on his clothing without care, as if he wasn’t swiping the remnants of his army away like they were nothing more than dust or debris, making Michael’s lips compress. He may not have cared for the enemy, but they deserved more respect than what their so-called leader was demonstrating.

Flicking fiery bourbon eyes over Khivar, he braced himself, covering both Max and Isabel, as he didn’t trust him, the slight edge to his tone setting Michael on alert. Narrowing his eyes coldly, and unobtrusively tapping into the power lying in the sun-baked soil at his feet to strengthen his flagging energy, he smirked disdainfully as the blond man continued almost conversationally. “You never would have accomplished this without Ava on Antar.”

And that was the crux of it and the answer to his dilemma of whether or not they had the ability to defeat their enemy – they were on Earth, not Antar. Khivar couldn’t tamp into the vast amounts of power surrounding them as he would on their home planet, but Michael had been shaping and controlling Earth’s natural currents for years.

“But you’re on my planet now,” he stated coldly, his lips curling into a sly, satisfied grin as the other man’s eyes flickered with a touch of uncertainty at the reminder, realizing for the first time that defeating the royalty before him might not be as much of a given as he initially thought. Splaying his legs shoulder width apart, Michael clenched his fists, his knuckles audibly cracking as he drew a deep breath and reached into the unwavering pool of energy in the pit of his stomach, his back stiffening as he caught the faintest flinch and coiling of muscle from Khivar, sneering tauntingly. “And I have the advantage.”

Flinging his hand up, he unleashed a blast of power just as Khivar’s shot up, white hot electricity flowing from his palm and meeting the searing, red burn of Michael’s in the middle of the field, the two bursts exploding into a spray of sparks and a crackling boom that resounded through the air as they converged. Gritting his teeth, he grimaced in determination, his eyes burning with an intense, seething hate as he shoved his power against the blond man’s, his lips quirking sardonically when he felt Khivar’s hold slip a fraction of an inch and he played on it, shoving the stream of power back a little further.

Grunting when Khivar shoved back, he drew a deep breath, ignoring straining muscles and the sweat dripping along his temples and back as he continued to pull on the energy in his body, shaping it and shoving it along the rope of electricity in front of him. Clenching his free hand, his sight focused to a pinpoint on the enemy, he cursed under his breath when his energy faltered slightly out of weariness, losing the ground he had gained plus an inch or two.

Setting his teeth, he quickly pushed more energy into the blast, pushing back once more and nearly sighed in relief when he felt a hand on his shoulder, the cool blue, almost metallic pulse of Isabel’s power lacing with his, followed quickly by the green, electric burn of Max’s as they combined powers, the added strength blasting through Khivar’s confidence as they gained ground.

Smirking as the other man visibly struggled to retain his ground, Michael closed his eyes, tapping into the currents surrounding him, the warm play of sunshine, the cool brush of water, the fresh breath of air and deep musk of earth running over his senses and soothing the acidic burn of his nerves, replenishing him. Pooling the warm pulsing life into his gut, he wove the four streams of power into one massive ball of yellow power, building it inside as he did with the skins, his body growing hot, heavy and taut as it curled familiarly in his core before he opened his eyes and coolly stared the other man down for a long moment, smirking when he read resignation and defeat in those chilling blue eyes.

Drawing a deep breath, he let the power rip out of him, his body crackling with power as it once again whipped taut, every muscle in his body rippling as the current tore away in a last ditch effort, shattering Khivar’s pool of power and sending him flying, his body radiating with white hot glow for a moment before it disintegrated, his ashes curling on the arid, desert wind. Dropping his hand, Michael stared at the mound of gray soot and slumped, his frame quaking with fatigue as he tipped his head skyward, relief and strangely, an almost hollow sense of loss, resounding through his soul as he slumped, his hands hitting his knees as he let his breath out in a heavy sigh.

It was over. Earth was safe.

They had done what they were sent to do and could go home.

Lifting his head, he gasped as it spun dizzily, his vision darkening as the toll of using so much power overwhelmed his senses and he lurched sickly, the ground sliding out from under him and careening toward his face as he lost consciousness, his last thought resounding through his head as blackness overtook him.

It was worth it.