Roswell Fanatics

calphysics - We're glad to hear that you're still following and loving the story. Hopefully you'll enjoy this part just as much as the others!

pandas2001 - Thanks for commenting. Michael's fey heritage will be addressed very soon. We don't want to give too much away as all of their status plays into the coming plot. But we are glad you're still reading and enjoying the story!

HypnotiqBlueEyes - Is everything over for them...well, we'll see. We will be covering the next steps of the pod squad as well as just what is to come with Michael and Liz meeting up. Soon.

AN: So I was on the site updating one of my own stories and decided to post this a day early! Enjoy! ~Ash



Diminished, useless, restrained, impotent – the words raged in his blood in ceaseless tempo as he watched his people fall around him, becoming less as they were subjected to unstable rulers and got caught up in the petty human world; until they became mere imitations of their former glorious selves. As was he. He remembered being a god among gods, a force to be reckoned with, who didn’t have to bow down to the cruel whims of a malicious Queen. The Courts had once been majestic things of beauty and power, and yes cruelty and bloodshed, but not to the extent suffered under Andais’s increasingly heavy hand or Taranis’s encroaching insanity.

When Essus had been alive, he’d had hope of things changing, of becoming in truth what they called him behind his back – the Kingmaker. Essus had been worthy of the Unseelie throne, if softer in his approach than Barinthus liked. But Essus had refused to force his sister from the throne, and then he had been killed, cowardly and viciously, by someone who was dead, even if they didn’t know it yet. The moment that Barinthus found out who had killed the man he’d loved as a brother in arms, a King, and in ways that didn’t require explanation, he would prove that Andais was a rank amateur when it came to inflicting pain. The queen had been but a babe in arms when he was at the height of his power, and he had forgotten more about creative cruelty than she had ever known.

With Merry’s, who was almost like a daughter to him, disappearance, he had once again seen a chance to right the wrongs in the Courts slip through his fingers, although he couldn’t fault her from fleeing a deadly existence he had failed to protect her from. But then he had felt the ancient call of blood to blood, and had followed it to find the child of his true daughter, the result of a night with a curious Seelie Lady in the days before he’d become one of Andais’s eunuchs. A child who was also the daughter of Uar, and as such in line for the Seelie throne, and who unlike Merry, had already come into her power, some of it, enough to fill him with hope once more.

Perhaps he could become a Queenmaker, and see the flesh of his flesh sit upon a faerie throne. His granddaughter already seemed to have a knack for alliances, with her betrothal to one of the most powerful sidhe Lords remaining in the Seelie Court, and one whom Barinthus respected for his skills and honor, a rare commodity in the diminishing Courts. She had also survived the first true test of her power, triumphing over a Noble with far more experience, and in doing so, had gained herself silent support he doubted she was aware of.

Although, he was sure that Lord Alexandru knew the name of every Noble now supporting her, and every one who did not.

In her, he also felt the faint whisper of a Goddess who had abandoned them long ago, faint whispers he sometimes thought were merely wishful thinking, tempered with fear that She would disapprove of his actions, of all of their actions, in recent centuries. He could only hope that those whispers were a sign that She hadn’t truly abandoned her people, or given up on them, and that through Elizabeth, they could be restored to their former greatness.

Rising out of the lake, he smiled at the tiny, dark-haired beauty sitting on the shore, pride stirring in his breast as she smiled back. Nainsí had been taken from him before he even knew she existed, to the Seelie Court and out of his reach as she did not share his affinity with water. By the time she left the Courts, she’d made it clear that she had no interest in welcoming him as a father, and as he’d been unaware of her pregnancy, he had acquiesced without a fight. But Elizabeth was so strong, despite her disadvantages and mixed blood, and she had never shown fear in his presence, or complained about her treatment at Court. She was worthy of her power, and her potential, and he intended to see it brought forth.

This time, he wouldn’t let chance or fate take the opportunity from him.

HypnotiqBlueEyes: Thanks for the review! I hope you enjoy the new part

pandas2001: Yay! We're so glad you liked it! It's fun but challenging to include more POV's from canon characters. Barinthus is definitely important to Liz and while we won't necessarily see more of him in this story, we definitely will in the sequel. Thanks for the review and we hope you like the new part!

Yasmania: Shame on you Also, yay and thank you muchly! Kristina worked her butt off on those chapters (she always has the best visions of Antar). We will definitely find out about Tess, but not until the sequel. Thank you for the review and we hope you enjoy this glimpse of Liz and her power
















She was walking up a hill. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been walking, or how high the hill was, but the higher she got, the more energy she felt, warming her from the inside so that she couldn’t even think of being tired. Glancing down at her bare feet, she saw that grass was sprouting beneath her toes, flowers growing everywhere her skin had touched, spreading out around her to carpet the ground in a riot of beautiful colors. Bees and butterflies appeared out of the flowers, bright and full of life, flitting from plant to plant before swarming around her in a living cloud, wings brushing gently against her skin.

Several black and yellow bees landed on her hands and she felt sudden sharp pains. Raising her hands to her face, she saw drops of blood trickling down her palms, and saw that instead of stingers, the bees had small shining blades sticking out of their bodies. Flying away from her, they landed on certain flowers, drops of her blood coating the stamens. Those flowers began to grow until they were trees instead, immense towering trunks that shaded the path she was following.

She continued to walk until she had passed the flowering meadows and the leafy giants, reaching a desolate plateau, the ground dusty and dry beneath her feet. The sun beat down overhead and she realized distantly that it wasn’t only her feet that were bare – she was nude, her skin shimmering under the sun’s rays, reflecting its radiance. A woman was walking beside her, equally nude, and so glorious that Liz could not look upon her for fear of being blinded. The woman took her hand and she felt as if the sun itself had suddenly flowed into her veins, heat and power of such intensity that it was almost beyond bearing.

Leading her across the plateau, the woman gestured down the opposite side of the hill, where two paths branched. One led to a palace of golden splendor that strove to shine brighter than the sun, but was filled with shifting shadows, smothering all life that tried to grow under the sun’s life giving rays. The other led into the distance, beyond her sight, and looked much like the path she had ascended, not dead, but dormant, waiting. “Choose, my daughter.”

Liz hesitated, sensing something familiar, and something terrifyingly unknown down both paths. Something brushed against her foot and looking down, she saw that drops of blood continued to fall from her palms, forming a crimson pool in the dust. Within that pool, she saw herself, as she was, as she had been, and as she could be, a two-faced being – one cold and cruel, and the other implacable but with a subtle twinkle in her eyes that shone with life and joy, with power and blood.

Looking up, she took a step towards the second path; before her foot touched the ground, the hill had disappeared and she was drowning in her own eyes, in the woman’s endless eyes, in blood and magic.

Waking with a gasp, Liz shuddered, gasping for air as that warm and painful energy coursed through her veins. The smell of apple blossoms and warm earth filled the air and Alex was staring at her, holding her arms, eyes dark with worry and wonder. “You are bleeding, Elizabeth,” he murmured, and she stared down to see him holding her wrists, her palms tilted upwards, small dots of blood scattered across them. Her arms bore small brushes of color, the remnants of the touch of butterfly wings, and Liz knew that if she pulled down the covers, the rest of her body would bear the same marks.

A light in the dark room caught her attention, and she raised an eyebrow at him as she saw that it was coming from beneath the door that led to her private sanctum. Sliding gracefully off the bed, he held out his arm to her and she joined him, hissing slightly at the touch of the cold floor on her flushed skin. He pulled open the heavy wooden door and her legs weakened, his arms wrapping around her bare waist the only thing keeping her from sinking into a puddle on the floor.

The room no longer had a ceiling, but a sky, complete with blazing sun and faint wispy clouds. Bees and butterflies and pixies and other demi-fey flitted amongst the flowers and around her tree, now stretching above Alex’s head as it reached for the sun.

“The Goddess has come to you,” Alex whispered in awed tones, his grip on her tightening and his heart beating rapidly against her ear. Turning her head, his eyes burned into hers. “You will restore faerie to its former glory, Elizabeth, my Queen.” Then he kissed her and it burned like the touch of the Goddess, a fire that would consume her until the day she died.

pandas2001: Thank you for the comment!
Sarah: Thanks so much! I hope they're worth the wait
Yasmania: Turbulent times are definitely upon us, as for Taranis, well, his reaction will be interesting . And Michael and Liz will see each other again....at the end of this piece (which is coming up!)
Sarah again: Polar is coming we promise, and the sequel we're working on has LOTS of Michael/Liz interaction.

A/N: In appreciation of your patience and support, you get two for the price of one today

















He was going to stay. I knew it as surely as I breathed.

He went through the motions with us, listened to our advisors as they instructed us on our world and what to expect when we arrived, the damage that had been done to the planet under the usurper, Khivar’s, reign, but it was all a show. I’d watched him when he’d leave the table as we were talking, felt the restless power flowing over his body as he stared out the window as if memorizing every detail, every minute nuance of this world, sorrow flashing through his eyes every time Larek mentioned the differences between the world that sheltered us all these years and our natural home.

A beautiful place to be sure; I knew because I had memories of red seas and golden rocks and blue skies, of sun-drenched meadows, filled with trees of every shade of green dotted with blue and purple flowers, a sweet-spicy scent mixing with the deep, dank, musky scent of ochre soil. It spoke of home to me, filled me with a joy unlike I’d never known on Earth, filled me with purpose and a sense of belonging. I never embraced this land as he did. I love my parents and it will hurt to leave them, but if they were gone, there would be nothing to tie me to this arid desert.

I never felt the pulse of this land as I had with the one in my dreams. Not like Michael. He seems like just another extension of the land. And I can see better than anyone in this room, he didn’t want to leave.

Flicking my eyes away, a felt my stomach sink as I met my brother’s eyes and knew that he felt it too, that he saw just as clearly as I did that we would be leaving this Earth alone, that the time we had with Michael was limited and it hurt to see the resigned sadness fill his eyes. I think Max is taking the coming separation harder than I am, having gotten over the puppy love of my youth and accepting that Michael never saw me in that manner, but Max still clung to the hope that we’d forge a unit and leave together.

I had long accepted that Michael’s heart wasn’t in Antar; he didn’t fight the enemy in order to make our former home safe; he fought for Earth, to make sure that the land that thrummed through his veins, didn’t become the near wasteland that Khivar had made of our home planet. Well, my home planet and Max’s home planet.

Antar will never be home for Michael.

Turning back to the man in question, my heart ached because I will miss him, the man that had become a brother to me over the past couple years, a man at whose side I fought against the enemy and someone who I finally connected with on a small level and began to understand. But I think life has something different in mind for him, and I’m content to know that in choosing Earth, he’ll be choosing his heart.
















He couldn’t do it. He had tried, made the plans, closed up shop, quit his job at the Crashdown, telling Nancy that he had gotten information on his birth family and was going to go spend an indeterminate time getting to know them, gave up his apartment and said goodbye to Parisa, even if they were more friends than lovers now. He had every intention of going back to his planet and making the best of a life possible there, but in the end, he just couldn’t do it. Every time he stepped into this cave, filled to the brim with a technology he couldn’t comprehend, it made his stomach cramp and scream out that all of this was wrong.

Backing away from the flashing crystal, that wasn’t really a crystal, or at least not one that would ever be found in nature, having been made by some scientist’s hands and embedded into a machine that would shoot them from one solar system to another, he shook his head as the others spilled around it with reverence. The Granilith they called it. A thing of great power that had the ability to pretzel time, travel long distances in the space of hours and had been their greatest weapon on Antar. It defied everything natural in the universe, and for some reason, that made him balk.

He wouldn’t do this. Something inside of him refused to relinquish its hold to this planet; it was that warm fever that raced through his veins when he stood out under the sun, the burn of life that flowed when he stood in the park, a place he still haunted despite not seeing Liz in years. It was the whisper in his ears when the wind blew and the icy trickle that splashed through his body when he was near any body of water. It bound him to this place as surely as if he’d been physically tied to the land.

Lowering his gaze from the crystal in front of him, he met Isabel’s eyes and saw a sad acceptance, and resigned knowledge, as if she’d always known that he wouldn’t go through with it, and maybe she had. The two of them had grown close over the past two to three years while they were fighting their enemy; read each other so well sometimes, it was almost as if they shared a mind. He had planned to go back for her, to fulfill a plan their parents had in place, but not even for her would he leave.

Walking over to him, she slipped her arms around him, hugging him close as she closed her eyes, her breath slightly hitched as if she were holding back tears, burying her face into his neck as she clung for just a moment before pulling away and flashing him a watery smile, murmuring quietly. “Stay safe and be happy.”

Nodding, he swiped at a tear on her cheek, pressing his lips against it before pulling her back into his arms for another hug, his own heart thrumming painfully at the idea that he might never see her again. Running his hand over her hair, he pressed another kiss into her brow as they pulled away, smiling at each other as he replied. “Always.”

Watching her walk away, he drew a deep breath, bracing himself as he’d turned to Max, the other boy having walked up while he was talking with Isabel, his face slightly guarded as he stared at his best friend and pseudo brother, caramel irises filling with regret that their relationship had been so strained over the past few years. But as much as he didn’t want to hurt his brother, he couldn’t fit the mold that Max had cast him into years ago.

“Why?” Max asked, his dark eyes flashing with confusion and hurt, his shoulders slumping as he studied Michael’s face, obviously realizing in this instant that nothing he could say would change the other man’s mind about coming with him and Isabel. Looking away, he nodded, swiping a hand over his eyes as Michael just watched him stoically, a sad smile on his face.

“This is home, Maxwell,” he replied quietly, looking away for a moment as he tried to put his thoughts into words and to give his brother a chance to pull himself together. “I have been looking for something all my life; I always felt like something was missing and for a while I thought it was the alien half of me…but whatever I’m looking for, I’m not going to find on Antar. It’s here.”

“What are you going to do? You gave up everything…” Max asked, waving his hand in emphasis over the opening to the cave, referencing the fact that Michael had already closed this end of his life and had nothing to tie him to Roswell.

“Well, I finally have answers about my alien side,” Michael smiled, looking out toward the entrance of the cave, the land beyond it tugging on him, calling his name for lack of a better world, making that strange strain of power flood through his body once more before he turned back to his brother and clasped his shoulder. “It’s time to find out what the human half has in store for me. We both know I’m different from you and Isabel; it’s time to find out why.”

“Zan, it’s time,” Larek called, interrupting their conversation and making his heart lurch as he realized that they were really going to do this, his throat constricting as a haze of tears filmed his eyes and he swallowed thickly, nodding as Max acknowledged his advisor before turning back as Larek stated. “All going need to be in the chamber and all staying need to exit for their own safety.”

“Okay,” Max nodded, clearing his throat as he stared at Michael once more, hesitating for the briefest of moments and fidgeting as if he couldn’t quite decide how to say goodbye to the man standing in front of him. “Take care and be happy. The Granilith bless you and your journey.”

“And you, my brother,” Michael choked, also hesitating for a moment before he damned it all and yanked the other man into a hug, closing his eyes to quell the hot prickle in the back of his eyes as he let go of a life that never really fit from the beginning. “Take care of Izzy.” Pulling back, he gave Max a half-smile, nodding quietly as he finished in a strained tone. “The Granilith bless you and your journey.”

Flicking one last glance at Isabel, he slowly turned and exited the cave, the door sealing behind him adding to the burn of sorrow in his veins as he descended the rocks, moving far enough away from the cave to prevent injury. Heart in his throat, he inhaled sharply as the ground began to rumble beneath his feet and he mentally counted down the seconds, his heart throbbing wildly in his chest as he watched the sky, a flash of pain searing through his blood as the ship broke free from its enclosure and spiraled into the sky, gone in mere seconds, taking the last of his known family with it.

Standing there quietly, he continued to stare at the wisps of white smoke trailing through the air, the wind already blowing them away, shoulders tensing as he held back the well of emotion beating through his body – the cold, aching burn of loss in his heart and the wild, inviting pulse of the land thrumming in his blood.

A/N: Thank you all so very very much for your reviews. We have both adored working on this story and it thrills us to pieces that you all enjoy reading it so much. Here are two more chapters, and after this we only have five or six more to go until the end, and then the sequel Also, I am with you Yas in not being able to wait for the sequel, and thanks for the bump Sarah!















The Nobles flitted around like the butterflies that inhabited her garden, just as colorful, and just as purposeful as they moved around each other in the intricate choreographed dance of politics, a dance in which she was an unwilling participant, the favored rose in a field of wildflowers. Accepting a drink floated her way by a Brownie, she smiled in gratitude and felt a flicker of surprise when the woman bowed, a gesture that was not a part of the official dance. Before she could ask the question bubbling behind her lips, the Brownie slipped away with all the innate speed and grace of her race, and Liz frowned momentarily, before resuming her Court smile as another Noble approached, murmuring complimentary words about her appearance.

She returned the flattery, wishing that she were back in her garden with the real butterflies that ignored her in favor of the far more interesting flowers – a place where she could be an observer, instead of a focal point. Alex returned to her side at that moment, slipping an arm around her waist, and she relaxed into his muscular frame, smile softening into something natural at the familiar and welcome touch of his energy.

“The King wishes to speak with you, Elizabeth,” he stated gently, and Liz almost lost her smile, only years of training keeping it fixed on her face as her body tensed, all pleasure in her lover’s presence disappearing. The Noble she was speaking to looked delighted at the further sign of her standing in Court, and brushed off Liz’s apologies for cutting their conversation short. Liz carefully expressed her gratitude and then allowed Alex to guide her across the marble floor to the throne, and the terrifying man ensconced in it.

For such a frightening man, he was beautiful, even more stunning than his brother, Uar. His hair was the color of a sunset – a deep bloody crimson, a breathtaking red-orange as if the sky was on fire, and shimmering strands of pure gold, the color of the sun itself. His eyes were many petaled wonders, every shade of green imaginable edged with white and black, and his skin dazzled with light and color, a refracted prism of loveliness. His voice was like rich, spun honey when he spoke and it flowed down her skin like warm rain. “Elizabeth, my dear, are you enjoying the ball?”

Liz felt her knees go weak under the onslaught of his persuasive power, and only the touch of Alex’s hand on hers kept her from being lost. “Yes, Uncle Taranis, your Court is as beautiful and kind as ever,” she responded carefully once she caught her breath, knowing that he would be unaware of the true meaning of her words. The King did not usually put forth such effort for one such as herself; his magic almost held a touch of seduction, and she shivered at the thought, hoping that her use of his familial title would put a stop to that idea, if she wasn’t just imagining things.

“Call me Taranis, Elizabeth,” he said with a warm little laugh that took her breath away once more, the sound manifesting physically like a caress on her skin. Once she could think again, she cursed inwardly, her fear deepening. Surely even the King, whose sanity she had long doubted, wouldn’t try to seduce his own niece? Alex’s hold on her hand had tightened, and he was tracing soothing circles on the underside of her palm, out of the King’s sight. His comforting touch frightened her even more, for it told her that she wasn’t the only one to feel the change in the King’s manner towards her.

She never thought she’d wish again to be ignored and disdained by all in Court, but that was infinitely preferable to whatever was happening now, and she could only pray that she was wrong, and that her betrothal to Alex would protect her from whatever plans the King might have to take advantage of her unwanted rise in power and reputation.






















Nancy sat on her daughter’s balcony, staring at the stars Elizabeth had so loved, her face a serene mask of pain and loss. It had been over thirteen years since she’d last seen her daughter, last held her in her arms. If she hadn’t been taken, if Uar, whom she both loved and hated for first giving her Liz, and then taking her away, hadn’t found them, Liz would still be gone. Her beautiful, intelligent and determined daughter would be at a university somewhere, learning and studying and falling in love; but, she would have been able to call home, visit on breaks, and most importantly, Nancy would know that she was safe.

The news loved to report on Princess Elizabeth of the Seelie Court, the youngest royal born on American soil and aunt to Princess Meredith, who had recently returned to her place in the Unseelie Court. They loved to discuss her betrothal to Lord Alexandru, a handsome Seelie Noble, and member of King Taranis’s Royal Guard, and show her on dates or shopping trips with him. They didn’t explain the shadows that a keen mother’s eye could detect in those stunning tri-colored orbs of brown and gold. They didn’t mention if everyone else at the Seelie Court was as enamored of the Princess as the official press releases declared.

They didn’t say if she was happy, safe, loved.

Nancy knew just how deadly the beautiful Seelie Court could be, just how cruel to anyone who didn’t measure up to their standards of perfection. The fact that her daughter did provide such positive press for the Court would provide a measure of protection, but how far that protection actually stretched…Nancy feared the answer. Her daughter had been so sweet, so full of life, so fascinated by the way the world worked, and she hated to think of her spirit crushed and hardened by the reality of Court life, by her exposure to the frequently lethal and always painful dance of politics and power.

Someone stepped through Liz’s bedroom window onto the balcony and Nancy spun, shocked at the rush of immense power that she should have detected long before he got so close. Her father stood there, magnificent despite being dripping wet and smelling of her bath salts, his sea-colored gaze unreadable as he calmly met her glare. “Barinthus,” she spat, lowering her hands and crossing her arms over her chest, knowing how futile attacking him would be if he meant her harm.

“It’s nice to see you again, Nainsí,” he replied in an even tone. She smiled bitterly and turned away, once more staring over the balcony, refusing to ask him why he’d come to her after all this time. “Your daughter is beautiful, and very strong,” he commented as he came to stand next to her, and she whirled again, glaring at him as shock and indignation swirled through her veins.

“You’ve seen Elizabeth?!”

He nodded, apparently indifferent to her roiling emotions. “She is very powerful, Nainsí, and is gathering powerful allies as well.” She stiffened, afraid and angry at the direction his words were taking, hating the thought of her little girl reduced to being a political pawn, even to her Grandfather. His next words stole the breath from her body. “The Goddess has come to her.”

“Liz,” she whispered, hugging herself tightly, torn between laughing and crying at the thought of her daughter being a vessel for the Goddess whom Nancy had never put faith in – a position of power and blessing yes, but also a position of sacrifice, one that might cost her daughter more than she was willing to pay, more than Nancy was willing to lose.

Keep her safe, she prayed silently, and felt no reassurance, only deeper shock, when the scent of apple blossoms wafted across the balcony.

HypnotiqBlueEyes - Poor Liz indeed; but that is the life in Faerie - filled with pretty illusions to hide the knife-like thorns until it is far too late. I couldn't imagine living my (Ash) life on the edge like that 24/7; as you pointed out, it has to get ridiculously exhausting. Although, honestly,I can't wait to put Michael into this setting as we all know diplomacy is not his strong suit. As for Taranis...he really is a shady character...

pandas2001 - Taranis is kinda smarmy, isn't he? I'm not quite sure what he's up to, but it can never be any good. And the smell of apple blossoms...I wonder what the Goddess is up to now.

AN: And now, the answer to Michael's fey heritage... in part. Also, as some of you may notice, Michael blatantly lies in this drabble. Typically, the fey do not lie - they bend the truth, stretch it, split it so thin it's hardly recognizable as truth, but they will not outright lie. However, while Michael has benefited from Nansi's instruction, he does think more like a human, thus lying to hide his true origins.
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“Sorry, I don’t mean to stare,” Laurie replied quietly, her stunned jade eyes, just a shade too electric in color to be considered fully human, flicking over his face as she tucked a strawberry blonde lock, the color again just this side of human, behind a fey-tipped ear and swallowed thickly as she ripped her gaze away, realizing that she was being rude to someone raised in a human world. The fey would welcome the staring, taking it as a compliment to their beauty, but she sensed that the man before her, while obviously descended from her line, was more human in thought than fey. “The resemblance is just uncanny. I swear I’m looking at an old picture of my grandfather.”

“No problem,” Michael murmured, shifting uncomfortably when that searching, curious gaze returned to him, trying not to tense under her probing as his mind reeled, fear and a sense of elation filling him, that in a way, his instincts had been right when he assumed he was fey all those years ago. Looking away, he shivered as the power lying under her skin touched his, the faint taste of ocean brine filling his tongue, followed by the warm glow of sunlight, its buttery and almost citrus tone filling his nose. He never realized that sunlight could have a scent and flavor until he started to pay attention. “I’m sure this is all a shock to you.”

“Yes, how…when…do you know anything?” she asked, shaking her head as she busied her hands with the tea service at her side, pouring herself a cup of Earl Grey after he declined the offer of a beverage, just needing something mundane to occupy her mind as she fit the puzzle pieces together. Licking her lips, she turned back to her…uncle, yeah, he would be her uncle. She didn’t doubt his claim, as the proof of his heritage was stamped on his face, but it was hard to believe that her grandfather had a child with another woman; he hadn’t breathed a word to her.

“No, nothing really outside what I told you,” Michael shrugged, picking at his jeans as he lowered his gaze, praying she didn’t see the lie in his eyes, and continued with his pre-planned story. He had decided to keep his alien origin a secret as it would be safer for them all; the last thing he wanted was people to get wind of his less than earthly status and come down on her family. “I don’t remember anything before the accident. It wasn’t even until I was an adult that I could find information on my mother; my father’s name wasn’t listed and it was a stroke of luck that I stumbled onto the picture that led me here.”

Michael watched as she mulled the information over, his heart pounding as he wondered if she’d turn him away, doubtful of his claim considering he had no proof of his parentage, since, well, there was no proof. He wouldn’t blame her if she kicked him out as a fraud. But he couldn’t tell her how he knew of his roots, because that would mean exposing himself and his origin, and it had been difficult enough for Isabel to get him the pertinent information before she left. He couldn’t risk the exposure.

Leaning forward, he looked her in the eye as he reassured quietly, “Look, I’m not here to claim any part of your inheritance or even a place in the family; I just want to know who…what I am. I’ve always felt different from my foster family, and I need answers to put this part of my life to rest.”

“No, that’s not what…” Laurie assured hastily, realizing that her silence had him feeling a little uncertain of his welcome rather than her just being a little floored by his physical appearance and its uncanny resemblance to her beloved grandfather. Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, she explained. “Different, yeah, you could say that. Um, as you probably guessed I’m…we’re…fey through my paternal side. We are a mix of Seelie sidhe, selkie and human blood.”

“Selkie?” he questioned faintly, one of the seal people, who were able to shed their skins and become human. Suddenly his draw to the ocean and other bodies of water made sense, along with why he felt so trapped and restless in the desert, his mixed blood must have prevented him from having a skin. Scratching at his brow thoughtfully, he hummed, drawing Laurie’s gaze to his face again, a soft smile touching her face when she noticed his gesture.

“He used to do that too,” she observed quietly, her smile deepening when Michael’s head snapped up, his eyes burning with curiosity as she nodded, sipping her tea before she explained further. “The scratching of the eyebrow. Grandpa used to do that as well whenever he was thinking or worried about something. I remember he would try to deny it, to keep his feelings to himself, but that quirk always gave him away.” Setting down her cup, she looked at him for a moment and then asked, “Where are you staying?”

“Oh, I haven’t decided. I came straight here,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders, his gut burning with questions about Charles Dupree, but he didn’t know where to start and it probably should wait until she had some time to process it all. Meeting her inquisitive gaze, he scrubbed his hand over his face wearily, tired now that she asked the question. “I figured I’d find a hotel after if…if you didn’t kick me out right away and hole up there for a day or two.”

“You’ll stay here,” she said firmly, holding up a hand when he made to protest, shaking her head in the negative as she faced him, frank interest in her eyes as she studied him thoughtfully and reiterated. “You’ll stay here. I have plenty of room, as it’s just myself in this huge place except for when my aunt and uncle occasionally pop up from their nomad lives. This way we can talk and get to know each other. And…you’re family. This is where you belong.”

A/N: Thank you all very much for your feedback and yes, for those of you who asked, new developments will be bringing Liz and Michael in touch, soon In the mean time, here's our first glimpse of one of Liz's other relatives



















Liz shifted restlessly, the delicately embroidered brocade of her ornate gown making her skin itch. The dress was stunning, gold thread on a sea of royal blue, in perfect contrast to her shimmering skin and the rich waves of dark brown hair that fell past her waist, as well as drawing attention to the blue flecks scattered across her tri-colored irises. Besaba had taken one look at her, radiant despite her lack of jewelry, makeup, or any other form of ornamentation, and had instantly claimed the cushioned chair before the mirror, leaving Liz to stand behind her like an attendant. Liz smiled, repressing a chuckle.

Uar had insisted that she join her sister when she contacted her daughter to extend another invitation to the Yule Ball, hoping that lure of meeting her other aunt for the first time would entice Princess Meredith into attending. Liz was undeniably curious as to why they suddenly wanted to welcome their black sheep of a relative with open arms, especially given the clear signs of Taranis’s meddling she had sensed even before Alex had brought them to her attention.

She was not sure why the King wanted his great-niece to attend this year’s ball, but in the end it wasn’t likely to matter as Merry had already declined the ‘honor’. Liz sincerely doubted that anything would change the Princess’s mind, and rightfully so. As the heir to the Unseelie Court, Meredith could not insult her own Court by attending the Seelie Ball in lieu of the Unseelie’s, no matter how much Taranis or Besaba (who had been far too eager to contact her estranged daughter) wished her too. But, she didn’t mind being forced to assist in inviting her, for she was deeply curious about her other niece, who unlike Cair, was barely older than Liz herself, and who had both studied and lived in the human world.

Meredith might be the one person in all the Courts who could truly understand the struggles Liz dealt with, as she strove to reconcile the two very different worlds she came from.

Besaba made the call and Liz watched with fascination as a tall and devastatingly handsome sidhe male, with skin black as night, answered. He could only be Doyle, former Captain of Queen Andais’s Guard, intimidatingly known as her Darkness, and one of Princess Meredith’s lovers. He left to inform the Princess of their call, and Liz studied the tense lines of her sister’s shoulders – this call might just be more fun than she’d originally thought.

Doyle entered the mirror’s line of sight once again, followed moments later by the Princess and another sidhe, pale, green and lovely. He sat on the bed beside the Princess while Doyle remained standing, a silent and deadly presence that reminded her of Alex.

Meredith looked faintly startled for a moment as her stunning emerald eyes drifted from her mother to Liz, but quickly recovered her composure while Besaba greeted her, and Liz took the time to examine the other woman. She had the beautiful spun-ruby hair they called Unseelie red, and shining moonlit skin that was the perfect mirror of Liz’s sun-kissed flesh, with lovely, glowing, green and gold tri-colored eyes. She was dressed simply in black shorts and a red top that perfectly complemented her hair, and Liz hid another smile at the further tightening of Besaba’s posture. Besaba, clad in an ornate, stiff gown much like Liz’s own, her hair in an elegant coif framed by leaves of beaten gold, and her lovely face enhanced by subtle makeup, could not hold a candle to the radiance of the woman on the other side of the mirror.

How she must hate her daughter for daring to be more beautiful, more sidhe, than herself.

“Why, thank you, Mother,” Meredith was saying when Liz refocused on the conversation, suddenly aware of and amused by the sweetly worded insults her sister had been giving to someone besides her for once.

Before Besaba could speak again, Liz delicately cleared her throat, smiling brilliantly. “Greetings Princess Meredith, Princess of Flesh, Child of Peace and Heir to the throne of Unseelie; I am delighted to finally meet you.”

Meredith looked pleasantly surprised and the sidhe lounging behind her on the bed grinned in open amusement, a quick flash of white teeth against pale green flesh. “Greetings Princess Elizabeth, Princess of Water and the Lost Daughter; I am also happy to meet the newest member of our family.”

Liz curtsied gracefully, her smile widening as she saw her sister’s pale hands tightening on the arm of the chair.

“Well, daughter, we should not let it go so long between talks,” Besaba stated without any trace of emotion, attempting to regain control of the conversation. Liz continued to smile, eyes twinkling as they met her niece’s, not at all surprised by the quick down-turning of the conversation that followed after and went precisely as Liz had expected, with Besaba continuing to waver between insulting and ignorant while her daughter steadfastly maintained her position. The hints of some promised reward from Taranis were intriguing though, and Liz made a mental note to ask Alex if he knew what the King had promised her sister if she successfully enticed Merry into attending.

Finally, it ended. “It means, dear Mother, that I will not be attending the Seelie Yule Ball.” Besaba gaped and Meredith turned to favor Liz with one last smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth, and I hope we can meet in person someday soon.” Then the mirror blanked and Liz was left with an angrily frozen sister, mouth half-open to protest again.

Liz grinned. Meredith was fast becoming her favorite relative, and she too hoped that they got to meet in person someday. It would be nice to have another relative who didn’t want to use her or kill her.

A/N: Thank you all again for your continuing and greatly appreciated feedback. We are working on the sequel (where you will see more Merry and Liz (and yes, their respective men ) and have but three chapters left in this story. Enjoy!





















“Hmmmm…” Laurie murmured under her breath, sliding a strand of butter-yellow hair behind her ear as she studied the sheaf of papers in front of her. Rubbing lightly at her temples, she sighed wearily and closed her eyes, rolling shoulders to release the tension that had built up over the course of the day. Sometimes the fey’s pleasantly barbed conversation gave her a raging migraine.

“Is something wrong?” a low, warm voice queried from her office doorway, startling out of her dark thoughts.

“What?” she asked absently, looking up and smiling when she found Michael lounging against the doorjamb, the hint of concern in his eyes and tension in his shoulders belying the feigned nonchalance of his stance. Shaking her head, she waved it off before beckoning him closer. “Oh, no. Nothing of importance, just…Court politics. Things have been a bit tense lately and…well that’s neither here nor there. Come, sit down; I actually wanted to talk to you.”

“That is never a good thing,” he drawled, pushing off the door and walking over to slouch into the chair in front of her desk and smirked, his whiskey-tinted eyes twinkling with mirth at her ill-spoken words.

“No, I suppose not,” she laughed, the tension releasing from her body as she studied her uncle quietly. “I should have chosen my words better. It’s nothing bad; I just wanted to go over some “courtesies” or pitfalls that may come up when we’re at court.”

“I thought the plan was for me to keep my mouth closed as much as possible?” he joked, his lips twisting into a deprecating smile. “Trust me, it’s better that way. Delicate courtesies are not really my…thing.”

“True enough,” she smiled, leaning back in her own chair, shaking her head in amusement. That was the understatement of the year. “And yes that is the plan, but there are some generalities that will pave a smoother path for all involved.”

“Meaning you want to make sure I don’t put my foot in my mouth.”

“Yes,” she agreed, electric blue eyes dancing with laughter at his assessment. Michael never failed to make her laugh and lift her mood. After a youth spent in boarding schools and in rambling loneliness as her family all but neglected her, she felt blessed the day he came into her life. “While I find your bluntness refreshing, and amusing, after a day of split truths and veiled innuendo, not everyone will look so kindly to your…eccentricities shall we say?”

“Flaws,” he smirked, scratching at his brow absently, a habit that never ceased to remind her of her beloved grandfather. “Just call it like it is and call them flaws.”

“But charming flaws,” she contradicted; falling easily into the easy banter that had grown between them over the months he’d lived here.

“That’s splitting the truth a bit thin, even for the Fey is it not?” Michael snorted, arching a brow knowingly.

“Well, yes,” she snickered before pausing and casting a long, assessing glance at the tall, sandy-haired man in front of her. As far as she knew, he hadn’t been raised in a fey environment and thus lacked the education in culture that other fey received. Although, he was a bit secretive of his past… “Wait, how do you know…?”

“I learned of your silver tongues from a childhood friend and her mother,” he smirked, a mischievous light sparking in his eyes as his lips twitched, obviously fighting back a laugh. “I’m sure you’ve met her as she is part of the Seelie Court.”

“At Court?” Laurie asked faintly, her brow puckering and mouth drawing in confusion at his admission. “But how did you meet then? I know you’ve never been to the Court. Were her parents…traveling?”

“No, she lived in the same town as me,” he hedged, picking at his jeans nervously and averting his eyes to hide the flash of pain that streaked through them before they blanked, seemingly reluctant now to talk about his friend. That was…curious. She would bet there was a story there.

“Fey don’t usually live away from the sithen,” she probed hesitantly, uncertain on how to inquire of the unknown fey’s status as potential exiles without being rude. “The lesser fey usually fade and the sidhe weaken, can even fade themselves if they will it.”

“Uh, it’s…complicated,” Michael shrugged. “I really don’t know the full story myself.”

Laurie sat back at that, studying the man before her. That was a lie. She knew that as sure as she was fey, but she didn’t call him on it despite his acknowledgment that he knew the rules of fey. The memory obviously brought him a great deal of pain and trying to corner him into a confession at this time would be much more detrimental to their blossoming relationship than lie itself would be. She was certain, once he was comfortable with her, he would be much more open in telling the story.

“Right,” she murmured soothingly, looking away to give him a moment to get his emotions under control. Fey also did not point out another’s weakness in fear that they would have their own weaknesses displayed before the Court. “Well who is it; I might know her and can arrange a meeting.”

“Liz, her name is Liz,” he murmured absently, before shaking off the dark thoughts that etched themselves into the harsh lines and planes of his face. Turning back to Laurie, he smiled sadly and clarified. “At Court she goes by Elizabeth NicUar.”

“What?” she spluttered, her head snapping back to Michael in shock, stunned eyes flitting over his face as she tried to make sense of what he said. “You…she…the…you’ve met the Princess?”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” he grimaced, thinking that her shock came from his familiar use of Liz’s given name rather than referring to her proper form of address and smiled weakly. “I’m notorious for forgetting titles.”

Laurie’s head spun, thoughts whirling through her head a mile a minute as she tried to put together the official information that the Court had released about the young Seelie Princess and the information that unknowingly fell in her lap from the last source she would have ever expected. Closing her gaping mouth, she pressed a hand to her face, rubbing tiredly at her eyes and sighed, knowingly life just got a little more complicated.

“Yes, well,” she croaked, clearing her throat quietly as she latched onto the last thing Michael said and expounded on it. “That is one thing to remember when we’re at Court; always address someone by their proper title if at all possible. Especially the Royals; they tend to get a bit…tetchy when it comes to that.”

“Right,” Michael muttered, casting a wary glance her way. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” she apologized, shaking the cobwebs out of her head and marveling internally at how small the world really was; and that her uncle had once been the Lost Daughter’s childhood playmate. “I’m just a bit floored. I mean, this goes against things we were told.”

“I’m not surprised,” he scoffed bitterly, his mouth twisting into a disgusted moue. “That bastard would hardly acknowledge what he did to Liz and her mother.”

“Her mother?” she asked, cocking an inquisitive brow, knowing the mother had been a great mystery at the Court. “Did she die and…?”

“No,” he shook his head, a soft smile touching his lips as his eyes took on a distant cast, as if thinking of a fond memory. “She still lives in my home town; we’re actually very good friends. She took me under her wing when I was younger and helped me gain control of my powers. She also managed to sneak in a few etiquette lessons, although, most didn’t stick.”

“Goddess,” she cursed softly, rubbing her forehead thoughtfully as she realized what an uproar this new information could bring if it got out into the open, not to mention how dangerous it could be for those who knew. “Michael, while I really would like to hear all about your years in Roswell, you must never reveal this to anyone. I cannot stress the importance of your silence on this matter. There are people who would kill not only you, but me, the Princess’ mother and anyone else who knows if this were to get out to the Court.”

“Trust me, I’m not planning on blabbing it to the world,” he snorted, darkened eyes flashing dangerously. “I know what that bastard did to Liz’s mother; I know he wouldn’t hesitate in completing the job if anything went against whatever pat story they dreamed up in the Court. I would never hurt Liz or her mother that way.”

“Good, good,” she nodded, flashing him what she hoped was a reassuring smile as a trickle of fear traced its way down her spine and turned to the matter at hand; his education in their ways just got a lot more imperative. “Okay, we’ll discuss this further later, but first things first, we need to prepare you for meeting the princess, which means, yes, you will have to be instructed in etiquette. We can’t have you making a fool of yourself before we can even arrange an audience with Princess Elizabeth.”

A/N: Thanks so much for the feedback you two! We deeply appreciate and enjoy your enthusiasm for this fic As for your questions: This well be an Alex/Liz/Michael story, as for how that comes about, we'll get there , in the sequel which answers the next question. Kristina and I are in the progress of writing Queens of Faerie, we're several chapters in and know our end goal, along with most of the steps along the way (the hard part is canon, given that half the books occur in the space of like, a week, albeit a week distorted by the sithen messing with time).


















Liz listened to Alex’s heart beat, strong and eternal and reassuring, as she stared blankly into the darkness of her bedroom. Things were changing, big things, and it was no exaggeration or fanciful thinking to say that she felt the hand of fate upon her. Nor was it a comfortable feeling. Unlike the humans, fey ‘fairytales’ rarely had happy endings, and those who got caught up in the games of power and Goddess were lucky to survive, and very unlikely to end up safe and happily married despite the odds.

Fucking Disney.

No, being a catalyst for change was not safe or comfortable or easy, and while she knew her people were fading, trapped under the yoke of an unfit King, she had never had any designs on being the one who attempted to fix that. She wasn’t sure it could be fixed, but she was sure that she no longer had much of a choice. Between Goddess sent dreams and ‘gifts’, and Taranis’s ‘kindly’ attentions, she was very much in the center of the storm, with no way of knowing where the winds would blow her and if she would survive the fall.

The scent of apple blossoms stole into the room as she felt Alex stir beside her, the dark and quiet space no longer feeling empty, but suddenly filled to the brim with magic so thick she could breathe it in like air. Alex sat up abruptly, reaching for the sword under his pillow, but there was no physical enemy for him to fight.

Things appeared, floating through the walls, shapes and colors more fantastical and ephemeral than any of the ghosts she’d seen in the sithen. There were creatures she could name only from legend, and others she could not; there were dancing trees, and bloodied weapons. All of that and more swirled around the bed, mesmerizing and dangerous, and then leapt forward, diving into their bodies until Liz couldn’t see or hear or feel anything but the pulse of power in her blood and the voice of the Goddess in her mind – loving, terrible, and incomprehensible.

When her senses returned to her, she was flat on her back on the bed, Alex bending over her with wild eyes, his skin glowing with golden power that nearly matched her own sunkissed complexion. Every part of her body was also radiating into the room, banishing the shadows into shrinking things that hid in the corners and crevices.

"What happened?” she croaked, mouth dry and throat sore as if she’d been without liquid for days.

His face gentled somewhat and he laid a hand on the pale column of her throat, healing energy slipping into her and making her sigh in relief. “Do you remember the whispers that the Nameless had been unleashed?”

Liz nodded as he helped her sit up. Nothing of it had been spoken of in court, as it was clear that the topic was not one Taranis approved of and his was not a temper to provoke. But the lesser fey, a few of whom had contacts among the Unseelie court, had brought the rumors to her that the weirdling formed of the willingly sacrificed powers of the sidhe, in order to weaken themselves enough to prevent the humans from kicking them off the last continent they were welcome on, had been set free, purpose unknown. How that related to their current situation, she did not know, but she trusted that Alex wouldn’t have brought it up unless it did.

“I was one of those who gave up a great deal of my power,” Alex said solemnly, his eyes distant, seeing a past she could barely fathom.

“How powerful were you?” Liz asked cautiously, wondering how much he could have lost, he who was still feared and respected by many as the only healer in the Seelie Court, and one of the only sidhe who could – by magic or weapon – bring true death. His touch would not kill, but it would invoke temporary mortality for the immortal sidhe lords, and then they could be killed just like a human, though not as easily of course. There were very few things that could bring death to the sidhe, among them Queen Andais’s sword, but those few things were feared as nothing else was.

He looked at her, back in the present, and quirked his lips into an amused smile. “I am older than most realize. I was once known as Miach, the son of the great healer Dian Cecht.”

Her eyes widened in shock, she knew that name – Dian Cecht was the healer to the first King of the sidhe, when they were known only as the Tuatha De Dannan, the invaders who pushed the Fir Bolg out of the Celtic Isles. She suddenly felt very, very young.

Alex took her hand in his, stroking her palm as if he could sense her sudden doubt in what appeal she could hold to someone of his status and age. “My father tried to kill me when I proved to be the better healer and so I fled to another court, as we were not just split into two then, but into many courts with many kings and queens. Eventually he died and our courts faded or combined and I became a member of the Seelie Court, a guard to Taranis, with the power to bring life or take it, and not with a touch as you have known, but from any distance, whenever I willed it so.”

He shrugged gracefully, old pain darkening his beautiful eyes. “Who I was and what I could do frightened even the sidhe, and I gave up power every time we sacrificed to the Nameless in order to ensure our welcome to these lands. But tonight,” his eyes burned like blue flame, unquenchable and hungry for things she could not put words to, “tonight those powers returned to me, which means the Nameless is no more.”

Liz felt faint, terror washing through her, not of Alex, never for him, but for what else this could mean. “Did everyone who lost power get it back?” she managed to ask, voice a trembling whisper.

He shook his head and pulled her close until she could hear the reassuring beat of his heart once more. “No, we would feel it, and hear it, if that were so. I do not know what happened, but the Goddess had a hand in bringing those powers here tonight.” Tilting her chin up with one finger, his face sobered. “You were not there to sacrifice to the Nameless, but you too have been gifted; do you not feel it?”

She blinked, not sure whether to nod or shake her head. She felt different, felt things inside of her that had never been there before, but what they meant, and what power they might hold, she did not know. She could only pray that the Goddess knew what She was doing, and that the price for being the instrument of Her will would be worth the reward. Well, that, and she would pray that such power would be enough to keep them safe, from all who wished them harm, as more power in faerie usually meant a larger target painted on your back.

A/N: You guys rock! Thank you so much for the feedback and interest in this story, Kristina and I definitely love writing it and seeing the reaction (especially given the relatively small Merry Gentry fandom) has been amazing. Also, finally, the moment you've all been waiting for! One more chapter to go and then this story will be complete and we well (soon) begin posting the sequel.




















The gown she wore for the Ball far outshone the one she’d been instructed to wear for meeting her niece, in both appearance, and discomfort. Floor length crimson silk with a belt of golden rope and incredibly detailed embroidery in gold, silver and copper thread; it was beautiful, but heavy and stiff, and she deeply hated it, along with the evil five inch heels she was wearing beneath it. She’d even had to accessorize with the earrings and matching necklace Uar had gifted her with over the years, although she had been able to slip on her charm bracelet, hiding it under the draping sleeves where she could touch it for reassurance.

At least looking at Alex almost made up for her ridiculous get-up, she thought with an appreciative smirk, taking in his uniform, far more intricate and sheer than usual, perfectly displaying his muscular physique and making her fingers itch with the urge to touch and tease until he took her away from here and back to their bed. His hair was pulled back with a loop of beaten gold and his oh-so-kissable lips were curved into a frown as he surveyed the room from the small corner alcove they were standing in.

“You must be careful, Elizabeth,” he stated, turning towards her with concerned blue eyes and making her lose her increasingly inappropriate train of thought. Taking her hands in his, he smiled gently, stroking her fingers. “Be the perfect Princess you are so adept at being, and I will do my best to keep us from attracting Taranis’s attention.”

She nodded and tilted her chin up, silently demanding a kiss. He obliged with an affectionate smile and darkening eyes, and she hummed happily into his mouth as his lips softly caressed hers, adding fuel to the fire he always created beneath her skin. Sighing in discontentment when he pulled away, she carefully adjusted her glamour to conceal the flush he had brought to her skin, and the desire in her eyes, and curled her arm through his. She just had to get through the Ball, and then she could have her way with him.

Something was different in the air as they moved into the crowd, something new. It didn’t have anything to do with the strange events of three nights before, the powers released from the Nameless that had somehow found their way into the sithen. Nor was it the strangely attentive actions of the lesser fey; she’d become accustomed to that in the past two years, even comfortable with it as she no longer worried over them spying for Taranis or Uar – if they had, her garden would have become an open secret long ago, and she and Alex would have suffered the consequences.

The Nobles were as fickle and fawning as ever, very few willing to openly display any harbored dislike of her after her triumph in the now years old duel with Eochaidh as well as the two that had followed before his faction had given up, not to mention the King’s continuing, disturbing, favor.

No, it was something else, a familiar ache in the back of her mind that had her scanning every unfamiliar face, those who rarely attended Court, but came for certain celebrations. There were even more of these than usual thanks to the increasing unrest between the two Courts, and she was distracted from her search by the requirement of greeting every Noble who approached them and exchanging a few pleasant words, reciprocating compliments, and sharing platitudes on the beauty and power of the Seelie Court.

Alex smoothly guided them around the outskirts of the room, careful to keep them away from the large knot of sidhe around the King, without seeming as if they were avoiding him, just following the natural flow of the room. They were aided by the fact that Taranis was more boisterous than ever, due to, Liz thought privately, the failure of his attempt to get Princess Meredith to attend.

She still wasn’t sure why he’d been so keen on her niece coming to Court, and she wondered if the designs she feared he had for her, he also had for Meredith. Alex’s hand gently squeezing hers brought her out of her dark thoughts, his strong and steady presence infinitely comforting, and once again she found herself thanking the Goddess for whatever part she’d played in bringing them together. Her years at Court would have gone far differently if it wasn’t for his love, protection, and support, far more genuine and loyal than the attentions poor Meredith hadn’t received from her first fiancé, and she knew that he would be by her side for whatever was to come.

Finally, she turned to greet the latest person who approached them and saw Laurie, their lovely blonde publicist, who had always been kind to her during the numerous conferences she’d been forced to attend. The fine boned woman was one of the others in Court with mixed blood – human, sidhe, and some other lesser fey that smelled of the sea. Standing behind Laurie, in a human style suit, was a tall figure that made Liz’s stomach bottom out as an electric shock of recognition burned through her.

“Michael?”

A/N: Thank you all so much for your continued interest in and support of this story. We loved every second of writing and posting it (and will continue to do so for the sequel which should be up soon) and appreciated every single comment. Also, yes, we are in fact evil, and you will think so even more so after this


















Michael stared at the glittering throng, the swirl of color dazzling to the eye, not only in terms of their dress, but also in the sheer inhuman shades of hair, skin and eyes. It was almost daunting to be among so many fey in one room after his mostly human existence, since few fey strayed far from the land of faerie, the outside world harmful to many because of the metal, concrete and glass that dominated it. The sheer number had him shielding as hard as he could, and yet, their power and beauty hit him in waves, and had him reaching for the iron nail he had stowed in his pocket.

Chest easing as the cold metal slid through his fingers, he blew out the breath he had been holding and turned to his niece, exchanging a rueful smirk when she cocked her brow at him, looking pointedly at the hand in his pocket and sending him a ‘I told you so’ glance before turning back to the shining brilliance in front of them. Taking the lead through the doors, the royal-blue silk of Laurie’s dress shimmered in the low light as she navigated the court’s treacherous waters, introducing and speaking for him, obviously worried that his far too blunt tongue might get him banished from the party before it had even begun.

Usually, such maneuverings would annoy him, and he would have put a stop to it before they had gotten too deeply into the game, but even he had to admit that he was ill prepared for the charmingly veiled insults and silky innuendo that blanketed the shining throng. He was more of the state-it-as-you-mean-it sort. Besides, there was only one reason he was here tonight, and he didn’t want some small blunder preventing the meeting with his best friend, and the girl who had haunted his every dream, for the first time in years.

Flicking his eyes over the gathering crowd, he dropped his shields a touch, gently probing it as he searched for that elusive taste of brine, sweet, red apple, and cinnamon that he’d come to associate with Liz, his breath snagging as he felt a familiar ripple of energy moving along the perimeter of the crowd to his right. Placing a hand on Laurie’s back he subtly guided her towards that golden stream of power as they made their way along the edges, his eyes blind to the curious glances thrown his way, and his heartbeat rising in tempo as that familiar strain grew stronger, that same heart in his throat at being this close to her after all these years.

Halting when Laurie did, he tossed an impatient glance towards the fey that halted their progress, letting his ire show for the briefest moment before he carefully schooled his expression into a bland, blank mask and even managed a weak greeting when Laurie pinched him, sending him an admonishing look. Smiling charmingly at the woman before them, her flat brown eyes and normal skin alerting him that she was of mixed blood, he placed a courtly kiss on her hand, redeeming himself in both women’s eyes before glancing back towards the edges of the crowd.

Sucking in a breath, he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye and turned his head a fraction, a familiar cascade of nut brown, gold and raven hair swirling as she tipped her head up to a tall sidhe, happily accepting his attentions as he kissed her softly on the lips. Stomach roiling sickly, he glanced away, swaying imperceptibly at the visual confirmation of what he knew to be true from the media; she was engaged to some powerful Seelie Lord, and happily so based on her reaction to his kisses.

Swallowing thickly, he glanced back, his lips thinned in a determined line, his eyes dancing over her ravenously, noting that she was decked out in her full glory for the solstice celebration, the deep crimson of her gown a perfect complement to her glowing, sun-kissed skin, so radiant, it needed no adornment. Noting the way her eyes sparkled like gold-set topazes, he reluctantly smiled to see her obvious joy despite the uneasy swirl of jealousy in the pit of his gut, before he flicked his gaze to the man guiding her possessively through the crowd, his eyes narrowing when blue and silver eyes glanced around protectively.

Startling when Laurie tugged his arm, he tipped his head down, watching his petite blonde niece curiously, and flushed when she sent him a knowing look, having heard numerous stories about his brief childhood friendship with the Seelie princess before she joined court, a secret they guarded given the official story handed to the press. Laurie wasn’t stupid; she had known that the facts hadn’t added up, but was shocked to learn that Michael had a tie to Princess Elizabeth. Taking his arm, she guided them through the milling people, careful to keep her eyes averted so no one else would halt their progress.

Holding his breath as Laurie set them in Liz and Alexandru’s path, he watched as the petite brunette laughed lightly, her eyes flashing as she turned to face the newest in a long line of courtiers paying their respects. Liz’s eyes warmed slightly as she glanced at Laurie, smiling their greeting before her eyes traveled over him curiously and time stood still, their eyes clashing and her mask slipping for a moment as brown and gold eyes widened in shock, her lips trembling slightly as she whispered, “Michael?”

His lips curved as she stared at him wide and unblinkingly, the questions all but buzzing audibly in her brain before she recalled their setting and the mask rose once more, not wanting to give anything away. His eyes flicked up to the tall man hovering at her side, his blue eyes dancing between them blandly, body tense and on alert as Liz continued to stare at him and he nodded once before turning back and greeting the tiny brunette quietly. “Liz.”