His father and Damien were yards ahead of him, following the twist and turns of the Woodlands as if it were familiar grounds for them. As the two had spent many days and nights inside of the massive territory after the almost war, Michael was not surprised.

To not give himself away, he tried not to make too much noise, but there was not much he could do to prevent the crunch of snow or branches beneath his feet other than follow at a safe enough distance behind them.

Turn back. Turn back now.

It was what his mind was shouting at him to do, and if he was smart, he would have listened. It was not worth it—this risk of his father finding him sneaking around in the Woodlands, while simultaneously trying to find a fairy he was not even certain he could trust was absolutely not worth it.

She was not worth it.

But he was already in too deep—literally and figuratively. And although the fairy was not worth his father's wrath, his mother certainly was, and that was what kept him tailing his father and Damien.

He had no actual plan when he followed them into the Woodlands, but keeping them within sight seemed the most logical thing to do, rather than go off on his own and attempt to find the fairy before they did. The only downside of his carefully maintained distance was being too far away to hear anything that might have explained the reason for their sudden trek.

He would find out why later.

More important than that—at least for the time being—was looking around for any familiar trees or paths that he could recall since his last visit. It was a long shot, but if he was even able to just hear or feel that hum that led him towards the two large oak trees, he was certain either he would find her or she would find him.

Several minutes ticked by as Michael continued his pursuit. He surveyed every inch of the area they passed, but not a single bend, path nor tree seemed to jog any memory for him.

He stopped, lowered his head and let out a frustrated sigh before he saw something move out of the corner of his left eye. He lifted his head and turned to look, but saw nothing. Only a cluster of trees, surrounded by trees, and more trees.

He turned his head and readied himself to begin following his father and Damien once again when a realization washed over him and pulled his attention back to the trees. Not because they were a sight to behold, but a sight odd enough to catch his eye and pull him towards them to investigate.

Of the six trees that formed the cluster, not one of their branches rustled in the wind like the others around them. They were still. Too still.

He went in to take a closer look when he suddenly noticed he could no longer hear his father nor Damien. He rushed back to where he was when he last saw them, but they were gone.

Heart racing, he headed in the same direction they had been going. He alternated between looking up in hopes he would spot them, and looking down at the ground in an attempt to track their footsteps, but there was not much snow on the ground in that part of the woods.

He picked up speed but was careful not to run, as it would have undoubtedly alerted them of his presence.

Whether it was luck or he was a better tracker than he had thought, he managed to eventually catch up to them. They had come to a stop, and the conversation he was too far away to hear looked intense and entirely one sided as his father was the only one talking, while Damien's eyes were casted to the ground.

The sigh of relief Michael was about to release caught in his throat when a loud snap of a branch beneath his feet echoed throughout the forest. He quickly hid behind the large trunk of a tree closest to him, and hoped they thought nothing of it. Hope that turned out useless when he heard footsteps headed in his direction.

He had two options: continue to hide while staying as silent as possible and hope he would not be caught, or give himself up and face his father and Damien. He could probably come up with some story to explain why he was there, but the chances of them believing it were highly unlikely.

Even so, as the sound of footsteps neared, he prepared himself to come out of hiding when, again, he noticed something move in his peripheral. However, when he turned to look that time, his eyes landed upon the hooded cloaked fairy, who seemed to have emerged out of thin air, walking towards him.

He had no time to act upon his surprise when she reached out and—just as she had done to him before—placed a hand upon his chest. An undeniable feeling of warmth tingled in his chest then spread throughout every part of his body.

Michael did not move. Not because he could not, but because he did not want to. And that shocked him so greatly it snapped him back into reality. And reality was that he was moments away from being caught in the Woodlands with a fairy.

But it was not himself he was worried about, but her. Her being caught by his ruthless father and his father's equally horrid second in command.

Before he could even open his mouth to tell her to flee, she lifted her free hand, placed it at the back of his head and pulled him in close. His body stiffened, but he made no attempt to reject or pull away from the unexpected embrace. An awkward one, as her other hand still remained flat against his chest.

When the footsteps closed in on them, out of the side of his eye, Michael could make out a tall figure he knew to be Damien stop right next to them. He turned his head to look at the beta, only to find him already staring back at him.

Only, he was not.

Damien was not staring at him, he quickly realized, but staring at the space where he and the fairy stood, and seeing nothing. Whatever the fairy was doing or had done made them invisible.

Michael's suspicions were confirmed when Damien looked away to instead scan the area around them.

"What is it, Damien?" His father yelled.

"Nothing," Damien replied. Seconds later, he turned and retreated.

"Let us move on then," his father commanded. "We do not have much time."

It was not until Michael heard their voices and footsteps fade into silence that he felt himself finally able to move. He took a step back from the fairy, one large enough to sever their embrace entirely.

She placed the hand that had been on his chest onto her own, and bent over slightly as her breathing suddenly became heavy. Michael took the opportunity of her being distracted to grab her arm, turn her around and push her back against the tree.

"Why? Why did you help me?"

He was certain he sounded angrier than he should have, but it was an emotion he could not deny nor help but feel.

Him being in the Woodlands was her fault.

Almost getting caught was her fault.

This predicament he was in was her fault.

Everything was her fault.

As he easily towered over her tiny frame, he looked down, not at all concerned at her heavy breathing or that his hold on her against the tree seemed to be the only thing keeping her standing. If he pulled away, he was certain she would have fallen to the ground.

Was her sudden weakness a consequence of using magic? Was it a Fae thing? He could not help but wonder how easy it would be to end her.

She will not put up much of a fight in her weakened state.

He can do it quickly so she will not suffer.

All the problems her presence created will be solved if he gets rid of her.

But Michael found himself hesitating.

Not because he could not understand why she had helped him instead of letting him be caught. Not because, like their first encounter, he felt like he owed her. It was because of the intention that led him to coming into the Woodlands in the first place—to protect her.

Despite the risk of being caught, Michael had come for her.

But was she worth protecting?

He needed to know that answer, and would not leave the Woodlands until he received it, as it would decide both their fates.

* * *

There were few things Michael knew—or, rather, had been told—about the Fae. Stories told by his mother painted abstract pictures of their wonder. Hushed conversations he secretly overheard from gossiping servants spoke of their beauty. The venom-laced words that oozed from his father's mouth conveyed how horrid and evil they were.

But, no matter the source, there had always been one thing that remained consistent about the magical, winged creatures: they could not tell a lie.

And Michael was determined to make use of that fact.

Because they were so close, it was hard not to notice as her breathing steadied and her body no longer felt slack. If her energy was returning, he did not know what that meant for him. So, he released his hold on her and took a step back, as to not give her a reason to use her magic against him. He only hoped she would not give him a reason to retaliate should she try.

He did not wish for it to come to that.

"Have you been here since—" He paused. He could not very well say, 'the night my people meant to slaughter your people,' so, instead, he said, "that night?"

From beneath her hood, she looked up at him long enough for him to see sadness glistening within her large brown eyes before she casted them back to the ground. Although she had not said a word, that look was her answer.

"You were protecting that place. That door. You were left behind."

Whether intentionally or unintentionally, Michael could not say for sure. But given what little he did know and remembered from their first encounter was enough to conclude if she were able to open the magical door, she would have. Why else would she have subjected herself to a life of solitude for nearly a year?

Again, silence.

The stories spoke of fairies not being able to tell a lie, but not how to compel them into talking, he realized. Perhaps taking a different approach would yield better results.

"My name is Michael. What is yours?"

He hoped she would at least meet his eyes again, but it only made her lower her head to the point where her entire face was hidden under the hood of her cloak.

"I cannot help you if you do not talk to me. If you fear me, that is understandable, but I do not wish to harm you. I wish only to..." He paused.

The only thing Michael wanted was a way to protect his mother without taking a life. And the only way he saw how was to give the fairy an offer she could not refuse.

"I wish only to help reunite you with your people."

That was the only way he knew how to take responsibility.

He did not know how he would or could help the fairy, only that he would try. She could not stay in the Woodlands waiting to be caught, and he could not spend forever trying to prevent that from happening. She had made it nearly a year, but what if another encounter that forced her to reveal herself were to arise?

"I want to help you go home."

Her head immediately lifted, but when her eyes met his that time, it was not sadness that lingered within them, nor the happiness he expected, but peace.

"This is my home. I am where I am meant to be."

Her voice was softer than he remembered, but he could only dwell on the fact that she had rejected his offer.

"Alone? Away from your people? Your family? Surely you cannot be content with living the rest of your days in a place that is no longer safe for you. I am offering to help you get back to your people."

She pulled away from the tree and walked a few feet past him before stopping with her back turned to him. "I am not someone you should concern yourself with."

"You are right. You are not. But your existence threatens the safety of someone I love."

Her head turned to the side, as if she wanted to face him, but she did not.

"So, do not get me wrong, little fairy. I am not doing this out of the kindness of my heart, nor because I feel sorry for your situation. You are nothing to me. But your existence threatens the safety of somebody very important to me. I am doing this for her and her only. If it is between you and her, it will always be her. Always."

He did not want to sound cruel, but if it made her realize the seriousness of the situation she was in, he would.

"The wolves from earlier were—" he caught himself before revealing too much. The less she knew, the better. "—are people you should only wish not to be discovered by, for they would be far less kind and patient than I am being right now. Before, you did not shoot me, and today you did not let me be caught. You will not tell me why, but that tells me you mean me no harm."

Stories were just stories, some held truths while others held lies. He did not know what was fact and what was fiction amongst the many stories about the Fae, but what he did know was what he saw. What he heard. What he felt.

And what he learned about the fairy through their two encounters was she was not his enemy. Even if it all turned out to be a lie, in that moment, it was not his mother's truth, not Gabriel's truth, and not his father's truth. It was his.

He approached her, stopping only when a foot of space between them remained. "This place is no longer safe for you. If you are discovered, they will kill you. And I do not wish that for you. Will you let me help you?"

She turned around then, and surprised him by holding his gaze rather than avoiding it. Instead of answering, her eyes drifted to the side of his head.

"Your wound," she reached up towards the side of his head, but stopped herself before contact was made. "It has healed. I am glad," she smiled, her eyes not once departing from where his wound had been.

He did not know why, but he knew—whether she agreed to it or not—he was going to get her out. Because it was in that moment, while his eyes trailed over the curve of her smile, and a part of him yearned for the touch she denied him, that Michael realized somewhere deep, deep inside of him, the sight of her made him feel something.

It was faint—so faint he could have imagined it, but knew he had not. Knew it because the longer his eyes remained glued to her full lips, the more he dreaded the moment he would be forced to watch the smile upon them fade. The longer he was deprived of her touch, the urge to reach up to grab her hand and place it on his head strengthened.

Whatever that something was, Michael refused to let it ever become more than just a flutter.

It was no longer a matter of wanting to get her out.

He had to.

A/N: Looks like Michael might have felt a little something something for our little fairy at the end! Do you think he'll be able to reunite her with the rest of the Fae? I can't imagine how lonely it must have been for her in the Woodlands for the past year.