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Once upon a time, there was a thought. Little more than a name given to the first hard freezes of the year, a creature who came in the night to paint spirals of ice upon the window pane and coat the dead fields in a layer of thin ice. Names spread, become used by more and more people. With use came belief. Belief is a magic all its own.
I stood at the doorway of the gym, watching. All of Meredith's guards spend some time here at my insistence, even little Kitto. Cel was dead, as were several of his most dangerous supporters, but I would never allow myself to believe that all danger was past. Meredith had been crowned Queen by Faerie Itself, even if she had given up the crown. There were many who still believed her to be a danger to Faerie and the Sidhe and would still gladly see her dead. Which was one reason why we had gone back into exile.
The current occupant of the room was moonlight pale, like Meredith herself, though that was where the similarities ended. He was tall, practicing sword work with an eerie grace that even I sometimes find myself hard-pressed to match. His hair looked like Yule tinsel, held back in a ponytail at the moment. I knew that that hair felt nothing like tinsel, however, being far softer. We had shared a bed, had shared Meredith for many months now. But I had known how it felt long before that.
His name was Frost. He has been my strong right hand for centuries in the Queen's Ravens and continued to do so as one of Meredith's inner circle. He is the only one to whom I would entrust her life without a moment of hesitation. I have done so before. I thought, for a time, that I would never be able to again.
Frost was only just returned to us. He had been the sacrificial king, the white stag to bring magic back to Faerie. It had been his sacrifice that had brought Maeve Reed's home into its current state. Not death, thanks to Meredith, but transformation into a stag form. He hadn't died, but he had been lost to us all the same.
It could have been me. In some ways, I still believed that it should have been me. So perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised when he said on national television that we shouldn't have given up the Crowns of Faerie to bring him back.
That was a thought process I needed to put a stop to right now.
I cleared my throat as I stepped away from the doorway. One doesn't surprise a warrior with a weapon in their hands and certainly not an Unseelie. Especially one who doesn't need a physical weapon. Frost has always had more magic than others. As I said, belief is a strong thing. He began his life as Jack Frost, after all, and it is a name that is still sung at Yule time. Along with the power that he has found with his godhead, one should never have to wonder why Andais called him her Killing Frost--a name that has stuck with much of the court.
Frost slowed, turning to me as he lowered his sword. His grey eyes met mine, then looked away, but not quickly enough to hide the snow that fluttered through the winter sky of his iris.
"Doyle," he said, stepping back so that he could place the blade back into its scabbard. "I didn't expect you to be here. I thought you would be with Merry."
"She is with Galen and Rhys tonight," I explained. "I am needed elsewhere."
He looked at me then, expression bemused. "Where?"
"Where I am."
It was not often that I got to see our Frost startled. I didn't get to see it for very long this time, either, as I closed the distance between us. I reached out, dark fingers closing around the silken tinsel of his hair, getting a good grip to hold him still. Frost's hands came up, gripping at my upper arms.
He didn't push away. He didn't pull me in, but he didn't push away, either. It was a small victory. I would need more of them.
I tightened my hand in his hair, startling a small sound from the back of his throat. It had been centuries since I had heard that sound, at least at my hands. Snow swirled in his eyes, as though someone had shaken the toy globe. It was, perhaps, not an analogy that was off by much. Shaking Frost was something I had long been good at.
"What do you mean by this?" he asked, watching my face, his own held in a mask of arrogance. The mask that said he was hiding something. The mask that said he held back, held himself in reserve because to put himself out there would mean being hurt again. It was a mask that Andais had taught him with her ability to play the Ravens against one another, to make comments as cutting as any whip in her arsenal. It was a mask that I understood. We had all loved Andais once. For a being who had been created out of belief, out of love, it had to be worse.
If ever I dared raise a hand against Andais, teaching Frost that there was reason for that look would have been high on the list.
I raised my other hand, laying it against the base of his throat. I felt the shudder begin before Frost could suppress it. I tightened my fingers against his skin a moment. "Do not," I said, a growl creeping up the back of my throat. "Do not hold back from me."
I spared a thought to what the tableau would look like to another had they walked in. Most of the guards would not give it a second thought. I was their captain and Frost was my second. That was the way it had always been since Frost had come to the Unseelie. Even Galen might not speak up, though he had been in the Ravens a far shorter time. Meredith might intercede, though perhaps not. She knew I would not harm Frost.
Hurt, though? I moved my hand up against his throat, pressing harder. Not enough to impair his ability to breathe, not yet, but enough to let him feel I had control. He could have called cold from the air, even in Los Angeles in late February. Not enough to kill me, most likely, but it would have been enough to wound me. A wound severe enough to lose function of the hand that lay against his throat. Perhaps enough to lose a finger or two. He was a powerful and dangerous man. He would not have been my second were he not.
Frost did not do so. He made no movement against me, either physical or magical. Instead, his eyes closed, his hands now gripping my upper arms instead of just laying against my skin.
I watched him a moment. "You have forgotten." Forgotten much, and not just the touch of my hands.
Meredith thought that I had misspoken in the interview on the talk show. That when I had spoken up to say that I loved Frost, that I spoke only of friendship. That the mortals would make rumors of it, take it too seriously. Though I doubt she would think it herself, our princess is very sheltered. She is very American and very young. She doesn't remember what the courts were like when sex was less regulated. When a night together that got a woman with child didn't necessarily end in marriage. And when a night with another man was nothing to be ashamed of.
Frost's hands tightened on my arms, trying to pull me forward. I resisted, even going so far as to lighten the touch against his throat. His eyes opened and Frost glared at me. I shook my head, the silver earrings on my ear clinking together. "Not here," I finally said, stepping back slightly. "It is too open and I don't have what I need. What you need."
The glare turned puzzled, then relieved. He nodded, dropping his hands from my arms. "Where?"
"My room." Before, when we were living in the guest house, there wouldn't have been room. Certainly not enough room for the privacy we needed for we wanted to do. A spell could have provided it, but raising that much magic would have tipped the others that something was going on. It wasn't that the desire was anything to be ashamed of, especially not among the Unseelie Sidhe. But neither Frost nor myself had taken part in Andais' entertainments. Neither of us would want to have attention drawn to this now, either.
Frost nodded, stepping away so that I could go first. He knew where my room was, but he was my second. He would follow my lead.
The mansion had once been only a normal Hollywood mansion. It had never quite been the same since the night Meredith intended to bed Ash and Holly. Had she brought them into their Sidhe-sided power, the goblins would have been allied to us for another two months. Anybody who wished to use the goblins in their wars would have had to speak with Meredith first. More importantly, any who desired to fight Meredith or her people would have found the goblins at our call.
It did not happen that night. Instead, Meredith unleashed creative power such as has not been seen in Faerie in many, many years, certainly not since the last time that the Goddess and Consort walked among us. Not since we lost their favor. But the power has been coming back to us, quicker and quicker through Meredith. Now the house is a part of Faerie itself. I do not think it is a sithen proper, though it answers to the princess' wishes. However, there are more rooms within the mansion than ever there were before and gardens that have never existed in the mortal world. Make no mistake, it is Faerie in nature, with magic all its own. Time will tell what more it may be.
All it had taken was the sacrifice of a good man.
I shook that thought from my head as we neared my own room. With Maeve Reed in Europe with her own (though human) guard, she had allowed us use of the actual house. I don't know what she'll think of it when she returns, but I think she would approve. Whatever else the mansion had become, it meant that the guard could have their own rooms and greater privacy.
It meant privacy, though, and with the plentiful magic that came with being part of Faerie again, any spell I put up for more privacy would be hidden by the background magics. The door opened as we approached and I stepped aside, ushering Frost into the room. There were not many I would allow into the room. The room itself was light, with accents in black and silver, my colors. Frost matched very well, with his tinsel-colored hair and light colored clothing. I took a moment to watch him, allow him to take the room in before I set wards, ensuring that none would disturb us.
Frost tensed slightly as he felt the magic raised around the room, hands tightening into loose fists. I didn't move from where I was standing, watching as the subtle play of light began under his skin. There are a few things that will bring that light out. Sex has been the most common since Meredith came into our lives, but there were other emotions that would bring it forward. Fear had been the main motivation in Andais' court and I think that there was a bit of fear in this as well. After all, it had been over a thousand years since we'd last stood in a room, anticipating this. Eight hundred years, nearly, since the last time we had touched in any way that could have been considered an expression of interest.
No, I wasn't surprised that Frost was feeling some fear. Perhaps it was only nerves. I couldn't blame him for that, either.
I waited until the tension in Frost's shoulders eased, his hands slackening to hang loose at his sides once more. Only then did I step away from the door, stepping to his side. "I need you to undress, Frost. And rid yourself of your weapons."
The lack of weaponry would leave Frost more naked than simply taking his clothing. I watched the tension start again before he let out a breath and nodded, starting to undo the buttons on his shirt. I thought to turn away, only because Frost is a private man, but I did not. The Unseelie are many things, but we are not afraid of nudity.
Clothing came off slowly because it took time for Frost to divest himself of weapons as well. Even watching closely, I couldn't tell where every one came from. He was good at secreting them away where he could have them at a moment's notice. It made for a good guard and one reason why I trusted him above all others with Meredith. The other, of course, being that he was Frost and he was ours.
Finally, though, I tore my eyes from him. There were other preparations that I needed to make and it was all too easy to allow myself to be mesmerized by Frost's body. I could allow that once everything else was at hand. Frost made it far too easy for me to forget myself.
What I needed was in the top drawer of my dresser: a braided leather flogger. It was a new purchase, only a few days before. I had seen enough of Frost's detachment to know that this might be needed and there was nobody else who could. There were only two people that Frost would allow to do this. Meredith could inflict pain, but she preferred to be hurt than to do the hurting. She wouldn't be able to make Frost break and he very much needed to right now. Had needed to, possibly, since the night he returned to us, though I had not realized until that interview.
I suppose I owed the host of the show a thank you, but I felt somewhat ashamed instead. It should not have taken another to point out that one of my men was hurting, especially one who was as close to me as Frost. I would apologize for my inattentiveness to him later, once we were done.
When I turned back, the sight took my breath for a moment. It wasn't that I had never seen Frost naked. In fact, I had seen him naked quite recently as we often shared Meredith's bed together. We did not avoid touching each other then, but this was the first time I had seen him this way while we were alone in quite some time. Frost glanced up at my breath and I did not hide my appreciation of his body from my face. He was not making an effort to be attractive, but it was bad manners not to show some interest when you see any of the Fae in a state of undress for the first time. Now wasn't the first time between us, but it was the first time for a long while.
Frost paused, then his expression lightened and his mouth quirked into a half smile. Yes, it had been a very, very long time.
I took a moment to steady myself, then set aside the flogger so that I could remove my shirt, dropping it to the side. Looking up, I was gratified to see the heat in Frost's face as well. I knew well what I looked like, with my night-dark skin and black clothing, relieved only by the silver rings in my ears and a single, silver nipple ring. But more than the heat, what struck me was the affection in Frost's face. He was, in his own way, a being of love, formed and shaped by it when he had been little more than a thought given life. That he felt affection and love was no surprise, even after all that Andais had done to him. I had seen the proof of that with Meredith.
That he felt that for me, after all that we had been through together? Well, perhaps I shouldn't have been so surprised at that as I was at that moment. It didn't stop me from stepping forward, sliding my hand to the back of his neck and pulling him forward into the first kiss I had shared with him in nearly eight hundred years.
Frost relaxed against me, opening to the kiss as the air chilled slightly between us. I stepped back before he could drop the temperature too much, squeezing my hand on the back of his neck before letting go. "Turn around," I said, voice rough, clearing my throat as I turned to pick the flogger up again. "Put your hair over your shoulder and your hands against the drawers."
His face went hard for a moment, a little unreadable, but he did so. He pulled his hair to the side opposite me, pulling it forward so that that silvery mass of hair splayed against his chest. Once done, he turned and placed his hand against the top of the bureau, feet shoulder width apart and a step back the furniture. There were many positions I could do this in, but this would be the best for the moment. I would not tie him down, nor would I put him on his knees. Andais had used both ways of keeping a man subservient to her, after all, and we had all suffered at her hands. I would not bring that into this room. This way, Frost was able to keep his feet and could move if he needed to. I did not think he would, though. If he had not trusted me to do this, Frost would not be in the room.
The Sidhe can take more damage than humans. I imagine that it hurts just as much, whether human or Sidhe, but we heal nearly every wound much faster and do not go into shock the same way. Without the addition of cold iron or time spent in the Hall of Mortality, there is no way to cause one of us to die by way of a flogging. Despite his worries, I knew that Frost was as Sidhe as any of us. His skin shown with our lights, responded to our own. We were not in a place where he could be harmed and I would never do this in such a place. This was, after all, not an act meant to inspire fear in Frost.
I waited until he was settled, position chosen and comfortable for him before I stepped forward. I held the flogger in one hand; the other hand I laid against his back, feeling the ripple of muscle as he reacted to the touch with tension. "Breathe," I reminded him, which got an indelicate snort in response. I smiled at it, but kept my hand in place, allowing Frost to get used to the feeling. Slowly, the muscles beneath my fingers relaxed into acceptance, his breathing deepening.
Only when he was relaxed did I step away, rolling my shoulders before raising the flogger, bringing it down against his ass. Frost stifled a cry and his shoulders tensed again so that I paused. Not out of concern for his pain, because it was a cry of surprise, but to allow him that moment to remind himself that things were different than the last time he'd felt the sting of a whip, that the hand behind it was different. I didn't move until the tension seeped from his shoulders. Then I stepped up and began again.
Our Merry is a warrior blooded, but she prefers the gentle ways; sex and life rather than death and sacrifice. We are not all such gentle creatures as she. There are times that blood and pain are required to do away with guilt. Guilt was an emotion that Frost keenly felt. He felt it for the fact that Meredith and I had given up the crowns of Faerie to bring him back to us. He felt it for having accepted being the sacrificial king with no fight. Now I needed to break his body so that his mind could let it go and find some peace.
It was not as easy as it could have been. Sidhe are strong, so the strokes could be harder than would be wise with a human. I patterned them over his shoulders and thighs as well, listening as they began to loosen Frost's tongue as well. He was never loud, but then he never was. I would know by the sound of his voice if it was too much, trusted him to tell me. He didn't need a safeword, though I knew he had one. He had been at my right hand for more than a dozen centuries.
I knew him. I understood him. I loved him.
I kept going until his legs buckled. He caught himself on his elbows, breathing hard and sweating. Actually, after a moment, I realized that the breathing wasn't just hard, it was hitching. Frost was crying. They were tears of exhaustion and emotional release that, in all honesty, I was relieved to hear. Setting the flogger aside, I stepped up, placing my hand against the small of his back. There were no marks there. I never wished Frost harm. There was little I could do to him that would not heal, including kidney damage. However, that didn't mean that he wouldn't hurt and bleed until the healing finished. That was far beyond what he needed to ease his mind.
"Come away from there," I said, softening my tone as I slid my arm beneath his chest. He did not fight me. He turned toward me instead, sliding a shaking arm around me but letting me carry most of his weight. I praised him softly, in tones only he could hear, despite the spell around the room. They were words that were meant only for his ears, after all. I did not need to speak them loudly for them to be heard.
Frost hissed softly as we moved toward the bed. He groaned as he laid down, wincing with the movement until he was settled, laying still. Whether it was to avoid aggravating his injuries or simply because he lacked the energy to move, I did not know. I took a moment to get rid of my boots and trousers before climbing onto the bed beside him. I took a moment to look over his back, checking the color and scores across his skin. The light still flickered under his skin, shifting with the play of muscle as he breathed. I moved closer, laying my hand against the small of his back again. Frost made a sound, pushing up slightly into my touch. I smiled, leaning down to press my lips to his shoulder. The sound repeated, higher with a little pain laced through it.
There were many paths that opened before me, so many things that could be done. Many I dismissed out of hand for the moment. Another time, sex might have been a possibility, but neither of us had been aroused by the flogging. It had been intended for penance, not as prelude for more. It didn't stop me from laying my mouth over one deep scrape, lapping at the blood as Frost shuddered and groaned beneath me. I didn't put magic into the lick, though. I could heal with my tongue, but it wasn't necessary here. The scrape was deep enough to bleed but no more than that.
I settled beside him, finally, stroking the undamaged skin above the swell of Frost's ass. He settled beneath my touch, nearly boneless in his relaxation. At least, his body was relaxed. He turned his head after several minutes, watching me with eyes that said his mind was not nearly as relaxed as his body was after the beating. He had come back to himself enough to think and, I hoped, to be able to understand.
I moved my hand from the skin of his back to the hair on the back of Frost's head, just a gentle, supportive touch. He closed his eyes, allowing us to simply be for a breath or two before sighing. "I still--I don't understand."
Not surprising and about what I expected him to say. I stroked my hand slowly across his hair, moving closer so that Frost had to move as well, laying partly on top of me. I thought the closeness was something that we both needed. "What don't you understand?"
He laid his head against my shoulder, arm stretched across my chest. From where he lay, the contrast between our skins must have been interesting to see. I assume so, at least, because he would not look up at me. "Why I'm here," he said slowly, thoughtfully. "Why you brought me back. You had the same dream I did, the same vision. A sacrifice had to be made to bring the magic back to Faerie. One of Merry's kings needed to die. When it seemed to be me..." He trailed off, uncertain. It was a crack in his demeanor that he only showed me or Meredith, because he knew we wouldn't judge him for it.
I curled my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Losing you hurt Merry," I said slowly. "It hurt me. Knowing I would never again have you at my side, that you would not see your child grow up? It left an ache within us both that could not be ignored."
"But the sacrifice--"
I shook my head once, cutting him off. "Another sacrifice was made in your place."
His head lifted, though he paused part way up and made a sound that I thought meant his back and shoulders protested the movement. I slid my hand up to press his head back down against my shoulder. "We sacrificed power and crowns for your life, Frost. And that power mattered nothing to either of us. Not nearly so much as you do."
Frost made a protesting sound against my skin. "What of the Sidhe, then? What have we sacrificed there?"
"I do not know." Quite frankly at this moment, neither did I care. "They would not have accepted Meredith as their queen. There would have been plots and assassination attempts. We would run ourselves ragged keeping her and the babies safe." I sighed, shaking my head. "There is no telling what the future will hold for us, my Frost." He stilled for a breath at the possessive, but soon relaxed once more beneath my hands. "And the ways of the Goddess are many and varied, and each nearly incomprehensible to us. We were crowned by Faerie, but Faerie accepted our trade. Perhaps the crowns were never really meant for us to begin with. There will be two children, soon, who may be the rulers that the Sidhe have wanted for so long. Or perhaps we will create a new court here by the Western Sea."
There were possibilities, nearly endless possibilities, each with more hope than we had felt for millennia. "But Merry loves you. And I love you. I need you here, Frost, with me, to protect what is ours. Our Merry and our family. Our people.
"I am not meant to be king alone. I need my second. I need my strong right hand." I slid my hand down, using it to tilt his head back. It was not a comfortable angle, but I could see his eyes and that was enough. "I need you, Frost. We need you."
His eyes were grey again, like a late afternoon winter sky could sometimes be. There was no snow, no nervousness or indecision in them, only acceptance and determination. "Then here is where I will be."
Then he pushed up, hissing in pain but sealing his mouth over mine. I smiled, turning my head slightly to return his kiss.
I wish it could all be that easy, but there was much still to do. Being here in LA didn't mean that we were entirely safe. Cel was dead, but there were others in the Courts who saw Meredith as a threat. Taranis was still absolutely mad and one day he would come back to haunt us, no doubt.
How Merry would react to the idea of Frost and I having once been lovers and wanting to be so again? That alone was in the Goddess' hands. She was young and very American, but she was Unseelie. She also understood emotions far better than her aunt ever had. She did love Frost, after all, as did I, and if there was an emotion she needed little help understanding, it was love.
A man does not need to be a lover of men to love a man, nor does a woman need be a lover of women to love a woman. Love is a gift of the Goddess and Consort. It goes where it will and takes what form it will. All that matters is that the love is true and that you believe in each other. Because love and belief are a magic all their own.
So mote it be.