Author's Note: This story is a spin off from my Tinkerbelle trilogy. Reviews were good on the trilogy and many readers said they whipped through it in a couple days, so I think you won't mind reading those stories to get the back story. I tried writing this so you wouldn't need to read those, but I'm not so sure it's working that well. This chapter has scenes from the trilogy, tweaked to be from Silvermist's point of view, to remind trilogy readers and to perhaps get non-trilogy readers up to speed.

I'm going to attempt writing this story from deep point of view (POV) for practice. It's supposed to make the reader feel more like he/she is the character. If it's not doing anything for you guys, let me know cuz it's hard to write like this. I think my trilogy had a mix of deep POV and narration. If any of you have experience with deep POV, tips are welcome. :)

She couldn't get him out of her mind. She laid a hand over the cool leaf cast that immobilized her hand and elbow. That dark male fairy, from days ago when the Queen had been ill, haunted even her dreams. She wandered to the small, shimmering blue pond below where the water fairies buzzed with excitement as they practiced placing large dewdrops on vibrant yellow sunflowers. But she couldn't concentrate, and her thoughts were far from the light-hearted world around her. Looking down, her own black hair and brown eyes reflected in the rippling pond water. The reflection danced and quivered, morphing into an abstract resemblance to a certain dark-haired male.

Lord Milori had called the male fairy Captain Sleet. Rumors called him the most vicious, blood-thirsty soldier in Lord Milori's army during the Alamur war. His black hair had hung just past his shoulders and hadn't quite gleamed in the sunlight like other fairies' hair. Instead, it had looked greasy and slightly unkept, rejecting the sunshine. Those broad powerful shoulders and thick forearms mocked even Lord Milori's physical strength. He had been clothed in dismal black, not in normal vibrant fairy colors. A leather-like belt had strained the long distance from his shoulder to opposing hip. The belt had housed empty holsters as if meant to harness weapons too dangerous to be carried outside of war. He had stood, powerful and almost intimidating, beside Lord Milori with a sword sheathed on his hip—an iron sword so strong and ungodly that few fairies could possibly lift it, much less carry it around all day.

The most halting thing about this dark male fairy, however, was his face. In there lived the darkness. He had worn a black eye patch over his left eye, and deep blue scars—the color of winter fairy scar tissue—slithered across his face in thick, deep grooves. They ran below his right eye, over his nose and across his lower left cheek to disappear into the shadow of black jaw stubble, appearing as sharp as thistles. That single icy cold blue eye surveyed the world without any sign of humanity or mercy. Her heart thudded faster. That eye reflected darkness and horrors of a tortured soul—or one that had done torturing. Once when the Queen had thought no one could hear, she'd told Lord Milori that this male fairy frightened her...and the Queen feared no one.

The moment she'd arrived at the Pixie Tree after being summoned by Lord Milori that fateful day, something had pulled inside her heart. He had been standing near Lord Milori.

The pulling grew stronger until she began walking toward him. Something about this male seemed...different. Not just darker than other fairies but different. She should have feared him. "You're an Alamur." She kept her voice low and quiet so only Sleet and Lord Milori could hear. Something drew her, like a flower drawn to the sun.

He stumbled back a step. That blue eye darted around nervously.

He feared someone had heard her. No doubt the fairies of Pixie Hollow would demand his imprisonment. Alamurs were known for their violent slaughtering of entire kingdoms only to claim it for themselves. "I won't hurt you." She looked up at him. He was more than a head taller. His breadth sent shivers up her spine. How easily he could crush all of them. But she sensed he wouldn't.

Sleet blinked. "You're not afraid of me?"

His rough, almost rusty voice grated her ears. He didn't sound like any fairy she'd ever heard. She frowned and cocked her head. What an odd question from a fairy too. "Do you want to hurt me?"

"No," he blurted, seeming caught offguard as if unused to conversing with anyone. A crease appeared between his brows. "I don't think I like you."

Ouch. His manners certainly matched his harsh appearance. "That's not very nice. I think you're cranky because you need some water. You live in winter?" She didn't wait for an answer but flew over to the river at the border and brought back a large drop of water. Heat exhaustion must be making him cranky. A smile tugged at her lips. Perhaps if she helped him, he'd be more amicable. She hovered over him and dropped the bead of cold water. It landed with a loud splash.

He sputtered and ran his hands over his face to clear away the water.

"There. Now, frost yourself," she smiled and landed before him. He'd smile at any moment from her assistance.

He scowled and shook off his arms. "I can't frost myself." He bit out the words and practically spit them at her.

Her heart stopped for a moment. Dousing a fairy left the wings too wet to fly. It was vital for survival for fairies to be able to fly. What had she done? Her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh! I'm sorry!" Snatching a leaf, she patted the leaf over his hard torso and long, unusually skinny wings to dry him off.

"What the..?!" He stumbled away and looked torn between being angry and flustered. He bumped into Lord Milori.

Lord Milori laughed at him, only flustering her more. This Alamur wouldn't take kindly to being the object of ridicule, even if in jest.

"Hold still!" Frustration and embarrassment made her cheek feel warmer, and she continued trying to dry him.

Sleet flung his hand out as if swatting away a fly. "Enough!"

Suddenly, she was flung back through the air. A strange cracking sound filled the air just when she slammed to a halt against something cool and hard. Searing pain exploded up her arm and zinged down her back. The world froze for an instant. Even her heart stilled. Then she collapsed to the ground. Numbness gripped her heart. Then panic and pain swept up from deep inside. She blinked hard. What had happened? Air. She couldn't breathe. Her chest convulsed, trying to drag in the air that wasn't there. This is what it felt like to have a body stunned. Sleet and Milori ran over, eyes wide with shock. She blinked hard and pushed herself up to a sit. White hot pain shot through her arm, ripping a whimper of pain from her throat.

"I'm sorry. Are you alright?" Sleet knelt, his hands roughly patting her down quick for injuries.

She held her elbow and got up, ignoring Sleet's outstretched hand, and clutched her arm to her body. Keeping her eyes downcast, she nodded and tried to sidestep them. Why had he hit her? No one had ever hit her. No one had ever beat her. Her throat closed up. Everything blurred from the threatening tears.

"Let me see." Sleet reached out, his voice and manner no more patient than minutes ago.

She recoiled. Her heart raced. She wasn't about to let him close enough to see how he'd hurt and confused her. What had she done to earn his hatred?

Lord Milori stepped forward and eased her arm away from her body. Something pressed upward under the skin. "It's broken."

Rosetta and Fawn flew over and started fussing, but her senses zeroed in on Sleet. The sharp throbbing didn't hurt quite as much as the heartache. She kept her eyes diverted from him but still sensed his presence.

"I'll take you to the hospital," Sleet said quickly.

Staring at the ground, she shook her head. Thankfully, Rosetta and Fawn hurried her away toward the hospital.

Later that afternoon, she sat on the hospital bed in her clothes with her arm wrapped in leaves. Hospitals felt so empty and frightening. The healer should be coming back soon. He'd said he'd return in a moment a long time ago. Her arm didn't hurt with the pain medicine, but she still wasn't going to stay here a minute longer than necessary.

A throat cleared near the doorway and quiet footsteps entered the room.

She looked up. Her shoulders tensed. Sleet stood there looking hesitant.

"Don't be frightened," he rasped and marched forward, bringing his arm out from behind his back to shove a bouquet of flowers in her face.

She sneezed.

"Oh. I'm sorry." He reached to grab a tissue off the counter, but he bumped the bed.

Sharp pain shot up her arm, making her cry out. She clutched her arm and squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deeply until the pain eased.

He straightened and turned to face her. "I...Are...I'm sorry, I'll go." He spun around and his feet rapidly ate up the distance to the door.

Why did he come here if he hated her so? That tugging in her chest started again, like a bee being drawn to honey. "Did you try to hurt me this afternoon?"

He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to look at her, his eyes sad and shoulders ever so slightly slumped. "I'm not gentle and I'm not patient. I keep to myself, and I don't remember anymore how to be a friend. I don't remember how to be careful with a female." His voice had a gentle and less raspy edge when he spoke softly. He slowly came closer. "It has been years since I told someone I'm sorry...until today. Now those seem to be the only words I can say to you."

She cocked her head and studied him. There. Remorse glimmered in his cold eye. He was on new ground apologizing like this. He wanted to be gentle, but he had no idea how. He was a lost soul, surrounded by love and happiness yet so completely alone. "Why are you here?"

He swallowed hard and looked away. "I wanted to make sure you're alright."

"But, an Alamur doesn't care about others." She frowned, unable to figure him out. A bitter smile crossed his lips, looking like a sneer if she hadn't known better.

"I don't fit in with the Alamur and I don't want to. But I don't fit in with Bright Fairies either."

Loneliness and sadness radiated from him, so powerful that they made her own heart ache.

Then he gave her a slight bow and walked to the door.

She reached out but was too far to stop him. "Wait!"

He turned.

"I'm not the Queen." A smile and frown battled to win over her face. "You don't need to bow to me."

"No, but it's the least manners I can show you after breaking your arm and botching everything else." His eyes fell and his wings drooped.

She swallowed hard, her heart breaking for him. What had happened to have left him so...empty? He looked so fierce and violent, but just below the surface a sea of melancholy hopelessness drowned him. She could feel what he felt. He ached in ways she hadn't even seen in fairies before. It wasn't grief like she'd witnessed in Lord Milori or Queen Clarion during their years apart. It was as if he...as if he knew he must live so isolated from the world, watching but never being a part of it. An Alamur wouldn't have ever received love or friendship in his lands, but he lived here. In this land where he saw everyone else receiving it. Where he had learned what those gifts meant. And what it felt like to not receive them. Clearly, he was defined in their land not because of who but what he was. Being an Alamur meant being an outsider. A loner. Always fearing banishment if anyone here found out his secret. If Alamurs found out he hadn't tried to overthrow the Queen, they'd undoubtedly end his life in horrible ways. To not belong anywhere...it was beyond imaginable. He needed a friend, whether he would admit it or not.

"Do you want to stay? I'm still waiting for a cast." She offered a slight smile. "I told my friends to go on to the party for the Queen recovering, because the healer said two hours ago it would be just another thirty minutes until I can go home. I don't really like hospitals." Her eyes darted around to make sure she couldn't be overheard. Then she whispered, "Ghosts scare me."

"Ghosts?" he frowned in confusion.

"You know...whoooooooooo," she mimicked with wide eyes. "Fairies die here sometimes and probably turn into ghosts."

His eyebrows shot up, and he looked like he wanted to say that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. Instead, his eyes softened the slightest bit and he sat down in the chair beside her bed.

She knelt at the pond and tried to pick up a dewdrop again. It quivered in her hands and then burst the second she stood up with it. She groaned in frustration.

The cast wasn't that bad—the wax leaves wrapped around her hand to her elbow to keep the cast dry was the problem. Work piled up more every day, even with the other water fairies trying to help pick up her share.

Slowly dunking her hands into the water, she lifted up a dewdrop and slowly flapped her wings to take it up to the sunflower petals. The bead of water quivered harder and harder, so she flew fast and set it down on the flower petal with a sigh of relief. And then all the dewdrops suddenly burst.

Her wings suddenly went limp from the water. She tumbled through the air, a scream of terror filling the air. Her heart slammed against her ribs painfully hard. No! Not even the Queen could heal a fall from this height. If she even survived. Flapping her limp wings, she clawed the air, desperately trying to grab flower leaves just out of reach. A flash of panic made her heart stumble. Her body jerked to a stop. Squeezing her eyes shut, she braced for the pain from a dozen shattered bones.

"Look at what landed in my arms," a deep rough voice said.

She opened her eyes. Sleet smiled down—or what was probably a smile for him, based on the tiny curling up of the corners of his mouth.

He flew to the ground and set her on her feet.

"Thank you." Now that Death wasn't demanding her attention, exhaustion and stress took its place. She bowed her head and brushed at her eyes. Great. The last thing she needed today was him to see her crying.

He bent down to look at her, his smile gone. "Why are you crying?"

Her lip quivered. He probably wouldn't understand feeling overwhelmed. "I can't do any work, and right now I'm so far behind." Her throat tightened and everything swam before her eyes through building tears. Barely able to see through the tears to see him frown in concern, she burst into tears and sank to the ground in defeat.

He knelt before her and brushed at her tears a tad roughly. But she didn't mind because she could tell he was trying to be gentle.

"No tears. What can I do? I caused this mess, so I'll help you catch up."

She looked at him. Her limp wings lifted with hope. "Can you pick up dewdrops?"

"Oh. I can't do anything like that. I don't have any talents." His brow furrowed and he looked like he regretted not being of any help.

Her wings fell. She sniffled, trying to stop the tears. "Do you not like me?"

He blinked, clearly taken aback. "I...um, well..." His face flushed slightly.

That answered that. Her heart fell. With a sad but understanding smile, she patted his shoulder. "Nevermind. I suppose you not coming to see me after the impromptu surgery on my arm at the hospital is an answer in itself." Then she got to her feet and started to walk away, her wings and dress hanging wet and limp.

He suddenly fell into step beside her. "I told you I'm not good at this." He spat the words accusingly.

Halting, she looked up at his hard face. He was such an enigma. "I'm not good at being a water fairy right now either, but it's not an excuse for me to not try." Then she continued walking, leaving him behind. It sounded like he growled under his breath.

A moment later, he caught up, seeming as irritated as ever. "I haven't come because I didn't want to, alright?!"

Blinking in surprise, she looked up. "Maybe the Alamur would break your bone in return, but I'm not going to."

His eyes focused straight ahead, as if having no patience for this conversation. "I didn't want you afraid that I want to kiss you."

She stared at him in surprise. And then frowned. "That's not very nice to tell a girl you don't want to kiss her. Friends don't expect kisses like that."

He blinked. "I don't like it that I never know what to say to you," he barked, as if it was her fault.

She cocked her head, and then her eyes widened. "Oh! Do you not know the language well?"

At first his face screwed up and then he held out his hands and sputtered. "Of course I know it! I've been here for hundreds of years!"

"Then just say what you're thinking!" she raised her voice.

"Are you yelling?"

"Yes!" The frustration had mounted until she wanted to wring his neck.

He started making a sound, and it kept bubbling up until he held his belly.

It was such an odd sound that she stared. Was he having indigestion? And then it turned into a laugh once the rustiness of disuse cleared away. "Why are you laughing at me?" She gaped.

"I've never heard anyone use a normal speaking volume to yell," he laughed, wiping at his eyes.

She was silent and then looked at him, her heart breaking. Why did he insist on being mean? Certainly accidentally soaking him with water didn't cause warrant for all of this. She wanted to be his friend. Why couldn't he understand that? "I thought you were trying to be my friend at the hospital."

He immediately sobered, as if realizing her hurt feelings. "Forgive me. No one wants attention from an Alamur. I'll leave you in peace." He raised his wings to go.

"Is that what you are?"

Lowering his wings with a frown, he answered, "You said yourself that you knew I was."

"So, you're an Alamur and not my friend. You're going to let it define you?" She frowned, trying to comprehend his thinking.

His brow furrowed and anger stripped any hint of patience or kindness from his eye. "You know nothing about me."

For some reason, fear didn't surface. Rather, she wanted to know if he honestly didn't feel the pull to her that she felt to him. "I know you're a loner because you're afraid, not because you want to be alone. You're not just worried about scaring me with a kiss, you're afraid of getting hurt—I think you've been hurt before." She took a step closer and looked into his eye. Studying him, she reached up and lifted the eyepatch before he could react.

Startled, mismatching blue and brown eyes stared before he stumbled back a step, pulling the patch back in place. He looked ready to snap her like a twig. "A riot would force the Queen to banish me," he snarled.

Only, he wasn't angry. She could feel his pain, his fear. He hid behind a mask of ferocity and violence that he wore well...except, her eyes pierced right through it. "You're not anything like an Alamur," she said, keeping her voice soft. "You have a heart that you try to hide, and you use your intelligence and strength to help us, not harm. But you do have Alamur left inside of you..."

He opened his mouth, visibly angry.

"...because you're afraid to trust. I blamed myself when you were at the hospital but left me when they decided to do surgery. I woke up, expecting you to be there still because I was so scared. But you weren't." Her voice fell, quiet and sad.

He swallowed hard. His armor cracked.

"I thought I had been mean to you or something and had caused you to leave. You left me alone," she whispered, his logic completely beyond her. "I didn't understand why you were punishing me."

His throat convulsed again and he blinked hard as if crushing down tears. He obviously felt something he didn't want to.

She pressed on. "But Tink came and said you had told her to come so I wouldn't be alone. I waited for you to come back because I realized you wouldn't have sent her if you were angry with me. But I still don't understand why you've been ignoring me." She took a step closer until they stood a breath apart, and she looked up. Fairies didn't leave each other like that, even fairies one barely knew. This feeling of abandonment was new and hurt so deeply. Fairies weren't meant to feel such a terrible emotion. She could tell he felt her pain because his features tried to stone over.

"I told you—," he growled.

"I'm not afraid of you, and you know it." She slowly laid a hand over his heart, worried if he would bolt. Worried if he would crush her heart. And then she saw it in his eye—the moment he felt her heart beat in his chest, just as she felt his. The moment only mates' hearts fell in sync. This was the pull that had been drawing her to him all along. The pull to get close enough their hearts would speak to each other. "I know you're my mate," she whispered and searched his eyes.

He stumbled back and plopped hard onto a large pebble, the air knocked out of him. "No," he whispered with a pale face.

Of course she had expected nothing more than his anger, as if it was her fault they had been born for each other. "I'm not dense enough to believe that you didn't suspect, didn't know. You don't want me as your mate," she answered, more curious than hurt. She cocked her head. "I never expected a mate." Giving a soft shrug, she accepted her fate the best she knew how. "I'm not going to tell anyone or hold you to it," she explained with a gentle voice. Then she stuck out her hand.

He slowly took it, looking shocked and dumbfounded.

Her tiny hand became engulfed in his, but she shook it firmly. She wouldn't let herself be heartbroken.

His hand slowly tightened around her, seemingly surprised by her reaction.

"Goodbye, Captain Sleet," she said softly with an innocent smile. And then she walked down the dirt path toward home for some dry clothes. Barely hearing him swear under his breath, she felt the air flutter from his wings when he came up from behind. He fell into step beside her without a word. "Hello," she said simply with a glance at him.

He folded his hands behind his back and kept his eyes forward, his posture tight and straight like that of a soldier.

"Are you lost? Winter is back that way." She pointed behind them.

He turned his head and stared at her. Then he glanced at the path ahead and then back at her, looking completely baffled as to how to respond. "No."

They continued a few steps in silence.

Then he spoke up. "Do you want a ride to wherever you're going or not?" he snapped.

She frowned severely, disappointed in his increasing rudeness. This fairy desperately needed a friend. She'd certainly have her hands full. "Not with those manners. I'd rather walk, thank you." She kept going. He disappeared from her peripheral vision. If eyes could bore holes, she'd have two in her back.

"You're so tiny, how the hell are you this irritating?!" he barked.

"Didn't hear you!" she called without turning around or stopping. A smile curled her lips. Irritating was good—he couldn't be irritated if he didn't at least somewhat care.

He flew over and slammed down on his feet before her, making her stop instantly. "Why the hell are you so irritating?!"

She looked up, completely calm and suppressing a smile. Goodness, this was certainly interesting seeing someone besides Tink get so angry. "I'm not talking to you until you're nice to me."

He growled deep in his chest and glared—or more like glowered in a way that probably made his bravest soldiers cower. But she wasn't one of his soldiers. She simply looked up at him and waited.

He dropped his head back with a groan, his Adam's apple protruding in an oddly intriguing way. Strange that she'd never noticed it on a male before. "Would you like a ride to wherever you're going?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Her smile beamed from the tips of her toes. "That would be lovely, kind sir." Holding up her arms, she waited to be picked up.

With a sigh of irritation, he lifted her with ease into his large arms.

A strange tingling flitted in her belly. Rosetta had talked about such a feeling whenever she saw her winter fairy, Sled. This must be what it felt like to have a mate near...except Rosetta said this feeling made her want to kiss Sled. She studied Sleet. Was it a bad sign that she didn't want to kiss him? What would it even feel like to be kissed? It didn't sound at all like a pleasant experience—receiving a male's spit. But so many mated fairies seemed to thoroughly enjoy the activity, even the Queen and Lord Milori could be spotted kissing occasionally. Hm. That would definitely be worth asking Sleet about after a time.

The moment she slipped her arms around his neck, she nearly withdrew them. He froze and his eyes grew misty. Had she hurt him? No. It was as if having a fairy trust him touched even the darkest recesses of his heart. "You want to run, don't you?" she asked in a soft voice.

He looked down, his eyes holding a peacefulness that surprised her. "I don't," he said quietly, his voice as intimate as she suspected such a gruff one could possibly get. Then he knelt down with a smile that melted through the hardness and softened his features. It melted her heart just as fast. Then she frowned and looked around, confused what he was doing.

"You said once that you wondered what it was like to go as fast as a fast-flying fairy. You've never flown with an Alamur," he smiled. Then he shot into the sky, soaring so fast there they created a clap of thunder.

She screamed in delight and held on tight as he took her faster than the fastest-flying fairy.

Author's Note: That catches us up on a large portions of scenes from the trilogy, so now there's room to just write whatever flows out for the next chapter. Did you feel like you were Silvermist? I tried using all the tricks they say to use for deep POV, but it was so hard to write. I didn't feel like I was really getting into her head like I did for Clarion and Milori in the way I wrote the trilogy. I might just write the next chapter how it comes naturally instead of trying to follow all of these POV rules. :)