Disclaimer: I don't own any of these fascinating characters, and no copyright infringement is intended by this story.
A/N: I'm glad so many of you enjoyed reading Deadly Duet. N and N are very complex characters, and there's definitely a taboo element to this pairing, but the larger truth underpinning their relationship makes it more right than wrong. This is a bit of their backstory pre-HB2.

Last Reprieve
by Venetia L.

She wore her hair up and dressed in blue, knowing none of this would be visible to humans. Tonight, she was just another guest in elegant attire at their winter festival. She borrowed a hooded cloak and fled outside when she noticed there was someone trailing her.

Even skirting the row of pavilions out front, she couldn't avoid the noisy crowds in the square as they surged around the outdoor entertainers. One charismatic, masked performer was spewing plumes of fire in the air and fiendishly torching the colossal ice sculptures of mythical monsters and beasts on display there. After despoiling these artistic creations in an unforgettable show of violence, the fire-breather created many more giant fireballs and blasted them one by one over his audience, and alarmingly, lower and lower towards their heads. Only those spectators unaware of their imminent peril stayed to witness next his strangely hypnotic and thrilling fire dance. Like a cruel emissary of the devil, he advanced on them with impunity until she stepped bravely into his path. He seized her in a flash and dragged her towards him, his wrath and exhilaration flooding her veins as if she were the one under siege.

"You're baiting them."

"Not at all. I've just picked up some very odd skills on my travels here and there."

"You're intoxicated then." She drew back warily.

"Only in your presence." After twirling her closer to him and out of harm's way, he breathed out flames that seemed to coil around and engulf them both. Then he spirited her away amid the smoke and mayhem. "You put yourself at unnecessary risk mingling with the enemy. Does he even know you're out here?" He scowled behind the sable mask as he dropped her none too gently on a distant snowbank.

"I'm being followed, of course," she said, flicking loose snow at him with her dress sleeves. She reached out playfully to toss aside his mask and torch. He caught her cold hands afterwards and held them against his cheeks.

"My foolish snow angel." He stripped off his gloves and slid her frozen hands into them. "You're cold everywhere."

She felt his warm hands boldly searching under her cloak as if he were looking for valuables on her. She shied away from his touch and steered her thoughts elsewhere.

They both heard the wing beats of swans flying overhead and turned their heads to watch them migrate east. Her own journey would soon take her to the other side of the world, where there were still forests and meadows unspoiled by humans.

"Your new haven will not last, Nuala. They seek dominion over every corner of the earth and more will reach your shores before this century ends. Will you stand and defend your homes then?"

She would not answer him, and said instead, "I will miss the libraries, museums and galleries here."

"Give them a few years and they will rebuild them for you."

She looked askance at his mirth. "You're not coming with us," she said softly.

"No, there's something here I must track down first."

She looked away uneasily. Images of him as a cutthroat pirate streamed unbidden across her mind. His amusement was cut short when she spotted her pursuer closing in on them.

In their hasty retreat to a darkened doorway, her hood fell back to reveal her different, upswept hair. She sensed the change in him immediately, even as he drew her into his arms and assumed a more loverlike pose. She endured this uncomfortable intimacy only until the informant passed them by. Eager to escape from him, she nearly wriggled free when his hand swiftly closed around her throat.

"Do you have a farewell gift for me, Nuala?" The chill in his voice didn't quite mask his wounded heart. He stepped around her and pushed her more into the light, and then while keeping a firm grip on her with one hand the other began slowly undoing her hair. He removed every last pin until her hair flowed down her back again, a bewitching waterfall at his fingertips. He pulled her taut body closer to his and breathed in her delicate scent.

She stared out blindly at the falling snow, trying not to notice the rising panic at the back of her throat. She felt him sweep her hair gently off to one side, and struggled not to cry out when his lips skimmed across her bare skin.

"Nuala," he whispered fiercely. He could feel her at war with herself. She burned at his slightest touch, but would not give in to him out of fear. He brushed the dampness from her cheeks and reluctantly let her prevail. For the moment, the secret spoils of the battlefield were still his. He slid his fingers through her soft hair like an artist challenged to create something new. After studying and shaping it in his mind's eye, he deftly wove it into an intricate love knot at the nape of her neck. Then he braced himself for an unsentimental parting and roughly pulled up her hood. "Go back to him, gypsy queen."

She ran from the half-lit doorway and willed herself not to look back.

oOo

In the mirror, she saw herself stripping off his gloves like a half-strangled creature frantic for air. Her nerveless fingers reached back clumsily to tug at the pins imprisoning her hair, and in her haste, one of them tore her flesh. She gasped at the unexpected pain as her hair unspooled behind her, littering the floor with pins, blood drops and the crown piece in her safekeeping.