An Epilogue
A/N: I'M BACK IN THE FUCKING BUILDING AGAIN!!! I am back on my Milarion bullshit which I haven't been on since I was like ten years old! Loved Wings of Starlight! But was hoping the book would have had an epilogue set post Secret of the Wings. It didn't, so this is my take on an attempt at that! Hope you guys enjoy it! Xxxxxxx
Ao3
FF.net
It had been a very long day.
One that Queen Clarion was sure would find it's way into the history books of Pixie Hollow.
So far, the dust-keepers had found no damage to the Pixie Dust Tree. But Clarion had installed an around the clock rota to continue doing checks just in case.
And with the temperature currently in a perfect balance to keep the Winter fairies cool and the Warm fairies heated, it made sense for some of the frost-talent fairies to stay the night instead of sending them all the way back to Winter so that they could have a rotation of rest before getting straight back to their work of trying to unthaw the world of Pixie Hollow.
Clarion had explained as much to Artemis when she had informed her that Lord Milori would be staying in the palace that night.
Judging by the raided bridge of her dark eyebrow, Artemis did not approve of Clarion's request. But when Clarion insisted that she could have the night off to spend time with her wife, there was little she could do to refuse.
"If he tries anything, I will kill him." Artemis said, regardless of the fact that Milori was waiting besides them. Thankfully he did not appear offended, only slightly confused.
Clarion could not blame Artemis for wanting to protect her from the person that she only knew as the boy who had broken her heart. In all her years of existence, Clarion had yet to find anyone more loyal than the scout standing in front of her; something made all the more evident by the fact that ever after the endless promotions that Clarion had bestowed upon her, the scout-talent fairy still retained her original duty as her night-time guard.
"I appreciate your concern." Clarion said in sincerity.
Artemis nodded. Then with one last glare in Milori's direction, she started to march towards her quarters.
When she turned the corner, Clarion could still hear how the the prosthetics of her leg, echoed in time with the soft sway of the Palace's wooden walls, as though even separated, the wood was still part of the Pixie Dust Tree, just as the prosthetic was a part of Artemis.
With the scout gone, Clarion turned her attention back to Milori, who was already looking at her with such open want she swore she could feel it in the air.
She fiddled with the bedroom handle, hoping to hide her blush as she stepped inside.
She had been offered Queen Elvina's room after her passing. But Clarion had kept the room she had occupied as a Princess. And besides from the new crowns that Petra had created for her, the room had seen few additions. Until now.
Or it would have if she had not felt Milori falter at the threshold of her room.
It was only then that she realised that due to everything that had happened, she hadn't had the time to tidy her room. It felt childish, not that she'd ever truly known was it was like to be a child, to worry about such things. Yet she couldn't help but be bashful of the glasses of golden glitter left opened on her dresser or how the iced wind of the frost must've frozen then shattered the pot of ink on her writing desk.
But Milori was not looking at her desk. Instead he stared at the view beyond her balcony window, of the ice capped mountains of Winter that glistened like diamonds under the glow of the stars.
Now there had been many reasons behind why Clarion had kept her old room. It had been the only place she could ever truly call her own and even though Elvina had long returned to the stars, to sleep in the place that had once been her sanctuary felt wrong. Although the main reason was that every night, Clarion could look beyond the branches of her balcony to the Winter Woods, as though she was looking through the bars of a self imposed prison of guilt, to serve as a reminder of the consequences of her selfishness.
"My home is carved into the caves of those mountains." The soft astonishment in Milori's tone drew her from her thoughts. "Every night I would look for the light of the Pixie Dust Tree. Sometimes, I told myself that even against the dust, I could pick out the starlight of your glow. But I until now I didn't truly believe that I was actually looking at you."
He looked at her now as though he still couldn't truly believe that she was in front of him, like she was a star that had somehow fallen within his touch. She could scarcely believe that he was here herself. It had been nearly four-hundred years since she had allowed herself to dream what it would be like to show him her home. And was a strange comfort to know that her longing had not been alone.
"Perhaps one day, you could show me yourself."
"I suppose it would be only fair, after you graciously allowed me to see your lovely room." Milori said, his grey eye's lingering on the yellow covers of her unmade bed as he finally crossed the threshold towards her. "May I ask where will I be spending the night?"
Clarion worried that Milori's sharp wits hadn't dulled over the years, as she did not want to dwell in the ensuing awkwardness as she explained what she had hoped had been obvious.
Then she caught the small upturn of the corner of his smile.
She couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of her. The sound only igniting even more as though all the laughter she'd kept from her birth spilled out of her.
Milori's hands came to steady her, his thumps pressing into the crooks of her elbows to stead her as she threatened to double over.
"Sorry." She said between fits of giggles. "It's-it's… It's just been so long since I've head my own laugh!"
"For me it has been three-hundred and seventy-eight years, six months and eleven days."
Suddenly her laugh was stolen in a gasp and she launched her lips against his as though they were her last chance for air.
The kiss the pair had shared before that Fairy Mary had exclaimed such scandalised shock at, had been chaste.
Briefly, Clarion wondered what Mary would thing of her now, before her every thought was overtaken by the feeling of Milori's lips against her own.
Despite the chill in the air she felt feverish as she kissed him with abandon. Her hand found the nape of his neck. His hair was shorter than it had been then, but still long enough for her grab a fistful, as she pulled him closer. Warmth blossomed inside her core, as his hands held her waist, holding her flush against him. Through the paper like petals of fabric, she could feel the quickened pace of his pulse it beat in time with hers.
Though even those petals began to feel like a barrier as she flung her arm around his shoulder in desire to be as close to him as possible.
Milori must have thought the same as the hand that had been cradling her lower back, slipped underneath her dress.
Then her finger brushed his wing.
As though scolded, she snatched her hand away.
Milori let her go, snapping his hands back to his side as she scrambled away.
"I'm sorry," Milori said, fists balled as though having to physically hold them back from offering her comfort. "I shouldn't have-"
"I destroyed your wing!" She cried, unhearing to his words as the guilt that had creeping up inside her like a glacier burst like a damn. "I injured you beyond repair! How can you even look at me?"
She turned away to face the mountainous view and with Milori standing behind her, she felt trapped between her two most selfish sources of guilt.
She dared not move, as doing so would mean that she did not deserve it.
"I was the one who decided to cross and it was not you but the sun that melted my wings." Milori did not touch her, instead she heard the soft yet sturdy sound of footsteps as he came to stand behind her. "Besides with your beauty, how can I not look at you?"
Her stomach betrayed her as it fluttered at his words. But that didn't stop it from also feeling sick.
"You do not judge Artemis for her prosthetics, do you?"
"Of course not." She said, that royal conviction snapping into her tone. She could never do such a thing to any of her subjects but especially not to one of her dearest friends.
"I have lived my life twenty times over since the loss of my wings. They are as a part of me as the white of my hair or the grey of my eyes. Please," An edge of ice kept into Milori's tone. "Do not pity me Clarion."
The use of her name, pulled her to him. He had still been one of the few to call her that without her titles. Finally she turned around, only to find that he was not facing her. Instead the broken expanse of his wings was the sight that greeted her.
This close, she could see how the melted edges of his wound has snapped like an incomplete spider's web, the silk-like flesh that had once been a light blue now empty of colour, as they lay limp against his skin.
"Did it hurt?" She asked, unable to stop the question from tumbling out.
"It was the most painful experience of my life." He paused as his breath caught. "Until I had to say goodbye to you."
Then he turned around and in the reflection of her golden golden glow, Clarion was hit with the full force of conviction in those dark grey eyes.
"I would have given my leg, my head and my heart if it meant saving you. But more then that, I would have gladly given up my wings if it meant I could just be with you."
If it weren't for her duty to her people, she would have given her wings to be with him too. And she knew that he knew that and understood that too.
Clarion reached behind his back. After he gave a gentle nod, she touched the edge of his broken wing. It was softer than she had expected and still tingling with warmth. As she traced along the shattered spirals, she felt him shudder underneath her.
"Can you still feel this?" She asked.
"Y-yes." He said, unable to keep the tremble from his voice.
With her other hand, she cupped the curve of his chin. Underneath his ageless beauty, she felt the faded marks of old scars. One she did not know the origins of, only that she had not been there to protect him from them.
"I need you to know that I never pitied you." She told him, her voice as strong as when she spoke to all her subjects. "I only ever admired and respected and loved you."
In her eyes, she saw that admiration of hope that she had inspired all those years ago.
"I have only ever loved you too."
She reached up to meet him in the same moment that he bowed his head.
The kiss was unlike the desperate passion before. Nor was it like the sweet chaste of the one earlier. It was somewhere in the middle. A push of a promise that their love would no longer remain in the past, but could bloom in the present once more.
And this time, when Milori's hand slipped beneath her dress, she did not pull away.
This is what I needed after reading this book 😭😭😭 I need more people to talk to about this
