((Contains material of an adult nature.))

The Isle of Avalon, though guarded and watched over by the power of the Lady, was no more immune to the turn of the seasons than the world from which it had ceded so long ago. Snow lay thick over the valley, turning the fresh green into a wonderland of whites and blues, sparkling silver sunlight on crystal. Solstice had come and gone, celebrated by the Temple; Christmas, too, had been observed, celebrated by the Abbey; and to both these celebrations, the sister of the Champion of the Isle and the fallen angel who had given his grace to protect her had been invited. But here and now, on the crisp first day of the New Year, everything was still and peaceful.

Wrapped in a warm cloak, Rachel stood at the crest of the hill, looking out over the magical valley, breathing in the clean, fresh air, heedless of the chill turning her cheeks red. What hurt had been done during the rescue of her from the witches of Mystic had been undone by the tender warmth of Avalon and the Lady, her blood innocence restored just enough to soothe the ache in her heart at the deaths she had witnessed.

"I thought I might find you here," came a familiar and very masculine-sounding voice from somewhere behind her that she'd recognize as belonging to that of the angel whose task it had been to watch over her since her soul's creation. He was mortal now, as mortal as any ordinary human, though still possessing the knowledge and wisdom and memories of countless years spent as a celestial being. Here, in this place, no one seemed to question or judge; they only accepted him for what he was and honored the choice he had made. Here, in this place, he had found the peace and serenity that had always eluded him, even in heaven.

Her smile appeared at the first sound of his voice, brightening her green eyes as she turned her head to look over at him. "It's so beautiful up here, Zachariel," she told him in a hushed tone, as though she were afraid that to raise her voice would somehow break the peace around them. "And I was good. I waited until after my lessons to come this time."

"It is beautiful," he agreed, though it was unclear whether he meant the landscape around them or the young woman before him. He wrapped his arms around her, as gentle and protective as an angel's wings. "It's peaceful here. Quiet," he said, as he contemplated the landscape. He had certainly seen snowy landscapes before, but he'd never before experienced winter with all five of human senses. "It's cold," he added, at last understanding the meaning of the word from personal experience. He'd learned that being mortal was not always pleasant. There was pain and hunger and cold and sorrow, but there was also joy and pleasure and a myriad of experiences and feelings he had never before known. This place had brought them both healing - healing from the pain and wounds sustained at the harsh cruelty of the witches and the far deeper wounds of the heart and soul.

As always, the moment Zachariel put his arms around her, the world seemed to become dimmed in her eyes. Rachel closed her eyes as she leaned into his embrace, savoring the sense of safety and tender affection, even the rise of heat that had yet to be explained or explored. All the Handmaidens would say was that she should speak to her brother's wife about it, no more. "It's warm in your arms," she murmured to her fallen guardian, tipping her head back to smile up at him. "Where have you been this morning?"

"I was with Sir Lionel. He has been explaining things to me about Avalon. Its purpose, its origins. It is a place that is hidden from the angels. I never knew of its existence before coming here," he replied, giving her more information than was necessary, perhaps. His arms were wrapped around her shoulders, as if he alone could serve as a cloak to keep her warm. It was times like these that he found himself missing his wings.

"It is hidden from everyone," she said softly, her temple finding a resting place against his jaw as she looked out over the quiet valley. "No one can come here without the Lady's permission. And yet Natalya can open the mists wherever she is, and Rhys can call warriors from here and from all over the world, and they do not seem to need her permission to do it. I don't think I understand."

"Lionel has been explaining this to me, as well. Your brother," Zachariel paused a moment, as he always seemed to do when he spoke of Rhys in this way. The man that was her brother had once been an angel and his brother in arms, but though Zachariel remembered it all, Rhys remembered none of it, all of his celestial memories taken from him when he sacrificed his angelic soul for that of a mortal one. "Your brother and his wife are special. Their coming was foretold. They closed the Gates of Hell. It was what he was born to do."

Rachel twisted, turning to look up at Zachariel with a faintly bemused frown. "Can I not simply call it amazing and be done?" she asked him hopefully. It wasn't that she was stupid, but there was so much for her to learn in so short a time. The abstract concept of her brother having once been an angel was just a little beyond her right now. "I would rather know more about you."

He arched a blond brow down at her as she turned her gaze toward him, unsure what he could tell her of himself that she did not already know. How did one explain a life that had begun before the Earth had been made" "What is it you wish to know?"

Green eyes looked up at him, innocent and mischievous all at once. "Are you very sensitive to cold?" she asked him in a sweet voice, her smile warm enough to throw him off the scent, as it were. She'd seen a few of the children in the valley playing earlier that day, and it had looked like fun. But you couldn't throw a snowball at a Handmaiden, or one of the Templars, which left Zach.

He had no idea what she had in mind or why she was asking such a question. He, too, had seen children at play, but he didn't really understand play, never having been a child. "I am as sensitive as any human, I suppose. Why do you ask?" His breath could be seen in the cold air, proving he was just as human as she was. His tall form was covered in trousers, boots, and tunic, a wool cloak wrapped about his shoulders - plain but warm, practical clothing for the cold days of winter.

"I was just checking," she assured him, rising up onto her toes to kiss his cheek before gently disentangling herself from his arms. "One moment." With a bright, reassuring smile, she turned away, lowering in a cloud of red cloak and blue skirts to the ground. When she rose, it was with a snowball in hand. "I think you're supposed to duck," she offered, in that same sweet voice, and threw the handful of snow at him with a giggle.

He watched silently as she slipped from his arms and scooped up a handful of snow, that single brow arching again in puzzled curiosity. "Why would I-" Before he could finish asking why he should duck, the ball of snow she had been holding in her hand struck the front of his cloak with a gentle thud, leaving a snowy imprint in the middle of his chest. He glanced down at the point of impact to brush the residual snow from his cloak. "Why did you do that?" he asked, all at once realizing that she was mimicking the children they'd both seen at play earlier that day. He had seen children at play before, through eons of observance, but he had never before been involved in such a game.

"Being warm can also remind you that you are alive," she pointed out with a quiet giggle, skipping to keep up with his long stride as her gown and cloak swept through the snow. "Zachariel ....how are babies planted?"

"Babies?" he echoed, brows arching upwards as he tilted his head toward her. "Why do you ask?" He wondered whether she asked because of Natalya or if she was just curious. Once again, he realized how very innocent she was; there was a very big difference between ignorance and innocence and Rachel was proof of that.

"Because Natalya is going to have a baby," she told him, a softer smile on her face for that thought. Now she understood that it would be a few months growing inside her sister-in-law, she was prepared to learn how it had got there. "They told me a little, about how Rhys planted a seed and it is growing into a baby, but they started coughing and changed the subject when I asked how he put his seed inside Natalya. Do you know how he did it?"

He frowned as he considered how to answer such a question. Of course, he knew how it had been done. Men and women had been making babies since the dawn of time, but how did one explain it without sounding crude" "All life comes from the joining of a male and female, Rachel. Even the fish in the sea need both male and female to bring forth life, but very few species come together for pleasure, as well as to procreate. Humans - men and women - are one of those species," he continued, wondering if she understood even a little of what he was trying to tell her.

He neatly managed to answer the question that tripped onto her tongue, though she wasn't entirely sure she understood what he meant by it all. "So does that mean that Natalya has lots of seeds growing into babies, or does it only happen when a male and female come together for the purpose of procreation?" she asked Zachariel curiously. "I would assume that coming together for pleasure is a part of the relationship she enjoys with my brother."

Zach contemplated her question a moment before forming an answer as they walked hand in hand along the path to the house that they were borrowing from Rhys and Natalya while they were in Avalon. His brows knitted together in deep thought as he carefully gathered his words, explaining the miracle of birth as slowly and patiently as one might to a child. "Once a seed is planted in a woman's womb, and it begins to grow into a baby, no more will take root, until it is born. Sometimes more than one seed takes root, but it is rare."

"I see." But from the frown on her face, there was obviously something she still didn't quite get. "But you didn't really answer the question," she told him gently. "How did the seed get into Natalya in the first place" Did Rhys have to do something complicated to get it there?"

"It-it would be easier to show you," he told her, his face already flushed with cold flushing deeper at the question and its inevitable answer. He glanced around as if conveniently hoping to stumble upon a few rabbits in the wild, but of course, that was a ridiculous thought. "I'm not sure I know how to explain." He flushed further, wishing she had asked this question of Natalya or the Lady and not of him. He had, of course, witnessed this many times throughout the ages, but had never experienced it himself. It was one of the reasons Lucifer had rebelled, but it was only one of many. "Angels....We do not....That is to say I have never..."

Rachel blinked, delight showing in her innocent eyes as she beamed up at him. "Truly' Oh, that would be wonderful," she gushed hopefully. "I would like to understand more, and you are a very patient teacher." She paused as he hesitated, one hand carefully undoing the latch on the door to admit them to the warmth of the tower house. "But you do know what happens, yes?"

"Yes, I-I know," he said, pausing outside the door now that they'd reached the little tower house. "But I cannot teach you this, Rachel. I cannot show you. It is something that is....It is sacred." He frowned a little, knowing that was not quite true. Men and women copulated all the time, and not always for the purpose of procreation. "I do not know how to explain this," he said again, sounding almost on the verge of panic.

The panic in his voice spoke to her more profoundly than the words she heard, but both told her the same thing. No. Rachel's face fell as she stepped into the house, raising her hands to the clasp at her throat to unhook her cloak from her shoulders. "Oh," she said simply, not knowing what else to say. She didn't understand, and she likely never would unless something was done about it. Swallowing her disappointment, she offered him a small smile. "I can write my name now," she suggested by way of a change of subject. "Would you like to see?"

He saw her disappointment and his heart sank. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint her, but there were other more important matters at stake here. "You don't understand what it is you ask of me," he continued, spreading his hands as he stepped into the house behind her. "It is a sacred act between a man and a woman. It is wrong to take such a thing lightly."

Folding her cloak over her arms, Rachel turned to face him as she considered what she was about to say. "I am trying to understand," she assured him softly. "It is a sacred act between a man and a woman that should not be taken lightly. It is clear that Rhys and Natalya have performed this act many times, and have created life through it. I believe that they have done this because they love one another." Each statement was laid out carefully, waiting for his agreement before she went on. She wasn't entirely sure how he was going to take what she had to say next.

"Yes," he agreed. "Because they love each other. Because they have pledged their lives to each other. Because they want to raise a family together." He sighed, lowering his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat. She was so close to understanding, and he wasn't quite sure why he was holding her back from it. It certainly wasn't fear, was it' He had never been with a woman before, but he could remember watching her with other men during other lifetimes. In all truth, deep inside, she knew more of this than he did. He turned away from her to close the door quietly behind them, pausing before turning back. "I have seen so many things, Rachel. Wondrous things and terrible things. Death and war and hate. Mortals are capable of such beauty and such ugliness. All God wanted was that they love each other, and that we keep them safe." He was rambling, and he knew it, but there was a point at the end of it that he was trying to make.

Rachel let him speak, sensing his distress and unable to soothe it. "But you are mortal now," she pointed out, her gentle voice trying to ease that blow if she could. "God requires that we love each other, and I do. I love you, Zachariel. And you have said that you love me. I do not wish to be away from you, and I will swear to that, if you wish me to. I have made my pledge, and I think you have made yours. How, then, can you not show me this sacred act, if we are so close to it anyway?"

"It is not that, Rachel. It is just that you have not seen much of the world yet." And yet, as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he knew he was wrong. There was no one who could love her more than he did, and in the end, he had to trust that her heart was true, just as she trusted him. His expression changed again, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I do not doubt your love. I only doubt my worthiness."

"But that is not your decision to make," she told him, stubbornness beginning to exude from her in the set of her jaw as she held his gaze. "Your worthiness is my decision. I love you. And I trust that when you say you love me, you mean it."

He hung his head in shame, realizing his mistake, but unsure how to make up for it. "I am sorry, truly," he told her, wishing he knew how to find his way back into her good graces.

A quiet cough drew them from their individual realms of upset, calling their attention to Helena, the Lady's First Handmaiden, who stood nearby. The ageless woman was smiling as she looked at them both, seeing more than perhaps they were entirely comfortable with. "The Lady requests your presence at the Chalice Well," she told the young lovers in an affectionate tone. "The Champion and Priestess have been summoned."

The quiet cough drew Zach's attention and he lifted his head, surprised to find the Lady's Handmaiden there smiling at them both. His gaze turned to Rachel at the Lady's message and he offered her his hand, seeking to mend the damage done by his own self-doubts. So, the Lady of Avalon already knew their hearts. He should have known it would be so. "Would you still have me, fool that I am?"

There was no hesitation in Rachel's reply, despite the sadness in her eyes. "I would have you in a heartbeat," she promised him faithfully, no deception in any ounce of her being as her fingers smoothed over his palm. "But should you make such a promise, if you do not trust me?"

"How can I not trust you? It is because of you that I live. It is only the world I do not trust. I have seen so much sorrow, Rachel, so much suffering. But there is joy and happiness in being alive. I am happy when I am with you. I am only afraid what will become of me if I were to ever lose you." There were tears in his eyes as he met her gaze and awaited her judgement, waited for her to forgive him, to take his hand and to accept his offer of love.

Her hand was already in his, the hurt already forgiven. All Rachel feared was that he might regret making such a promise to her in time, never wanting to cause him pain. The tears in his eyes brought tears to glisten in her own gaze as she stepped close, her other hand rising to curl to his cheek. "You will not lose me," she promised him fiercely. "I will never let you go. It is my turn to look after you."

They had both been so lonely, though in different ways. So long as they were together, they need never feel lonely again. It was almost too good to be true. Tears brimmed in his eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks - tears, for once, of happiness. A soft smile touched his lips as she touched his cheek and he turned his face into her hand, eyes closed briefly to savor the gentleness of her touch and the sincerity of her words. No one had ever told him such a thing before, not even his own brothers or sisters had ever offered such a thing. "We will look after each other," he corrected her as he opened his eyes to regard her, eyes clear and bright with all the love and affection he held for her in his heart.

Very slowly, that special smile rose onto her face as she gazed up at him, reassured once again in the strength and truth of his affection for her. Her thumb stroked along the line of his jaw for a brief moment before she let both her hands tangle with his, interrupted by a second gentle cough from the Handmaiden who still lingered nearby.

"The mists have parted, Lady Rachel, Lord Zachariel," she told them both through a warm, somewhat wry smile. "It would be best to reach the Temple before the Champion and Priestess."

He was unaccustomed to being referred to by any sort of title, though he suspected it was more out of respect and politeness than anything else. He was - or had been - an angel, a guardian, a servant of the Lord and mankind, nothing more. He basked in the light of Rachel's smile, just as one might bask in the sunlight on a warm, summer day, matching her smile with one of his own as he seemed to have restored her faith in him. If not for the Lady's Handmaiden, he might have kissed her, but he resisted the temptation for now, knowing there would be plenty of time for it later. He wasn't sure why it would be best to reach the temple before Rhys and Natalya, but he took the Handmaiden's word for it. "Shall we?" he asked, as he took Rachel's hand in his.

"Yes," Rachel nodded as her finger tangled with his. Like Zachariel, she had no idea why it would be better for them to reach the Temple before her brother, but didn't waste thought worrying over it. Whatever the reason was, it would be revealed when they reached the Lady at the Well. Drawing the door of the towerhouse closed behind them, she turned to walk with Zachariel in the Handmaiden's wake, content to be silent with the one she loved.

The snow crunched beneath their feet as they made their way away from the towerhouse that belonged to Rhys and Nat toward the place where they were to meet the Lady, both of them lost in their own thoughts of the other. Unaccustomed to the feelings that were making themselves known to him, he wasn't quite sure what it was he was feeling exactly, but his heart was beating fast, and his stomach was all tied up in strange knots.

As for Rachel, she felt caught in a strangely restless flutter. Her heart raced, her breath quickened, she could feel her palms growing sticky with sweat, and all the while, deep in her belly, she could feel the agitated dance of something ineffable, celebrating something she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was not a long walk to the Temple steps, and from there, they continued alone, the Handmaiden leaving them with a smile and a nod as they entered the stone arches that rose above them.

It was not nervousness that Zachariel was feeling exactly. Anxiety, perhaps; excitement, certainly, though he wasn't quite sure how to put all he was feeling into words. Joy. Was this what joy felt like? It felt like his heart was swelling up inside his chest so much that it might burst.

Rhys' entire demeanor changed as soon as Rachel stepped up to ask her brother for that which they'd been summoned there to give. In his heart, he'd already given them his blessing months ago when they'd first arrived in Avalon, though he may not have said so in so many words. Though he enjoyed teasing them, once his sister stepped forward, his expression softened, and he turned serious. He couldn't help but smile when she linked her fingers with his, meeting her gaze with eyes that so clearly matched hers. "On one condition..." he started, waiting for her reply.

Though they might not yet know each other very well, there was obviously a very special connection between brother and sister. Rachel's smile rose as Rhys looked down at her, already certain he would give them the permission they wished for so much. "What is your condition?"

His smile softened, warming to his sister, who so obviously held a special place in his heart. "That we are allowed to stay and witness the union," he told her, brushing his fingers against her cheek in a tender caress. "Do you really think I would tell you no?"

"Did you really think I would want it to happen without you here?" she countered affectionately, her smile deepening as she lurched forward to hug him. Such tactile affection came so easily to her, a woman who had been starved of touch and warmth all her life until recently, that the people she loved were reaping the benefits without needing to try much at all.

Nat smiled, proud of Rhys in that moment, and gently nudged Zachariel's arm. "I think you can relax now, Zachariel," she told him softly. "You are going to have a beautiful life together."

Rhys smiled and returned his sister's hug, warmly and affectionately. Though he hardly knew her, she had quickly found her way to his heart. There was very little he could ever deny her, certainly not the love of a man who she so obviously cared for. "I wish you only happiness," he told her quietly as he held her close, reminding himself that he wasn't losing a sister, but gaining a brother.

Zachariel visibly relaxed a little as he watched the tender moment - as brief as it was - between brother and sister, wishing Rhys remembered him and their own friendship, but knowing it was better that he didn't. He felt all alone in the world, just as he always had, but for the love of one woman. There were still so many questions in his mind, so many worries about the future. How would he provide for her" Would they be able to have children" Would they be happy together" "I am grateful for any time we are given to be together."

Nat looked up at the fallen angel, seeing only too easily the signs of isolation self-imposed. She knew those feelings, that sense of not being a part of the love that surrounded her, and smiled as she realized she had something to tell Zachariel that might help. "You will have this lifetime and every other that follows," she reminded him gently. "You share a soul. And in ten years, you will have two sons, and a third child expected soon."

Zach pulled his gaze away from the embracing siblings and turned an amazed and startled look to Natalya. As far as he knew, she was no seer and had no way of knowing his or anyone else's future. "How do you know this?" he asked, confused and curious.

The Russian woman glanced toward the siblings for a moment before returning her smile to Zachariel, understanding his confusion but grateful that he did not immediately dismiss her prediction. "I was shown it," she told him quietly. "My brother, dead these past five years, he came to me. He showed me many things, but what I think means the very most is the vision he showed me of my future. A future that includes all of us - Rhys and our children, Adam and Gina and their family, and you, with Rachel, and your family. You had two small boys, and Rachel was pregnant with a third child. And you were still very much in love."

Zach turned to gaze at his beloved again as she embraced her brother. Though he had not been given the gift of prophecy nor had he had any vision of the future, when he looked at Rachel, he knew she was his future. Tears filled his eyes at what Natalya was telling him, not only believing it but accepting it with an open mind and heart. "We will have children?" he asked, still needing a little reassurance, a little confirmation.

"Yes, you will," Natalya promised him, believing it herself, knowing that her brother would not have shown her a lie. "Not straight away, but in time, you will be a father." She reached over to gently squeeze his arm. "And I am sure we will be able to get you both settled in a home of your own very soon."

Starved of love, of the knowledge that another being could possibly care for him when he'd cared for them for so long, he turned to Natalya to offer her an awkward embrace. This being human thing was so new to him, he was awkward and uncertain, but craving the love and affection of those around him, as he cared for them. "Thank you," he told her simply, needing her to know how much grateful he was that she had shared this with him.

A little startled, perhaps, but understanding a little of what he was going through, Natalya embraced the fallen angel in return, brushing a gentle kiss to his cheek as they parted. "You do not need to thank family," she told him. "And you should never question that you are family. It will take time, but we will help you as best we can."

From behind her, Rachel's voice broke into the strangely warm moment. "Help us with what?"

"Nothing, love," Zachariel replied with a teary smile. "Just learning to live."

Rhys looked over at the other two - his wife and his future brother-in-law - and offered a warm smile of his own that confirmed what Natalya was saying before turning back to his sister. "Help you to learn about the world, build a home, raise a family. We're family, Rach. I told you before, you don't ever have to worry about being alone again." He glanced to Zachariel, as if to make sure the angel-turned-man understood that he was included in all of this. "Both of you."

Rachel beamed in her gentle way, overjoyed to hear that they were all family, though it had been made clear from the start. But before she could say anything further, there was a rustle from the interlocked vines behind them, and the way to the Lady's sanctuary was opened for them, a silent invitation for the four to enter into her presence.

"Did you truly think I would not be prepared for this day?" the Lady asked her Champion, amused by his mild astonishment. "They are required, but they are also a gift," she added, turning to Zachariel and Rachel. "A gift from Avalon to you." She reached out to take their hands, drawing in a slow, deep breath. Power seemed to hum through her as snow fell from the sky above.

Standing before the Lady of Avalon, Rachel's green eyes were wide, awestruck and moved by the simplest action. She may not yet have truly understood what it was they were doing, but she did know it was somehow important beyond words.

Under other circumstances, Rhys might have made a smart-alecky remark, but even he was bright enough to know when it was inappropriate and he only took his place beside Natalya, tucking the rings safely into a pocket until the Lady asked for them again.

Zachariel offered the Lady his hand without hesitation. He had been secretly longing for this moment for centuries and could hardly believe he was actually about to receive his heart's only desire.

Almost a year before, the Lady of Avalon had joined Rhys and Nat beneath the winter sun before their friends and family in a ceremony that had been attended and celebrated across the Isle of Avalon. Yet today was no less sacred for the lack of witnesses. More intimate, perhaps, a moment in time only five people would ever be able to say they had been a part of, but still as sacred as the traditions Zachariel had witnessed across the millenia.

The Lady called not only upon the Christian God, but on the powers that were, the Powers that Be, calling their attention to this moment in time, this place. "Father, Mother, Divine Spirit whose presence is felt in all things and at all times, we ask your continued blessing upon this couple and their union. May they become one in truth and forever revel in the love they share." She drew Zachariel and Rachel's hands together, winding a single white ribbon about until they were joined, handfasted at her touch. "If you have vows you wish to make, we three will bear witness."

Rhys' hand found Natalya's as the Lady invoked the Powers that Be and asked for their blessing, remembering the day he and Nat had shared their own vows and bound their lives together for as long as they lived. He almost envied them, their souls connected in a way his and Natalya's were not, but in the end, it didn't matter. They had the Lady's promise and her favor, and he trusted her in all things. This was Zachariel and Rachel's moment, and he felt honored to be able to witness it.

Zachariel lost himself in the moment - in the Lady's words and the meaning behind them. He watched quietly as she wound the ribbon about their joined hands, lifting his gaze to meet that of Rachel's, bright and happy and full of wonder and hope for the future, but before he spoke a word, he turned back to the Lady as if for permission, unsure which of them should go first.

The Lady simply smiled at Zachariel, encouraging him without words to speak his heart to the radiant little woman before him. She was, as she had said, simply a witness - this marriage a binding of promises made by man to woman and woman to man that no one could make for them.

In all truth, they had already spoken their vows before the Lady months ago when they had first arrived in Avalon, but had been asked to wait until they could seek Rhys' blessing and know each other better. Though the time they'd been together in Avalon was short, Zachariel was certain of his heart's desire and knew his feelings for the gentle lady at his side would not change, no matter how long they waited.

"My sweet Rachel," he started, one hand clasping hers, blue eyes meeting hers. "I have known you since the birth of your soul. As your Guardian, I have watched over and protected you. I have loved you from afar, without your knowledge of my presence. I have done my best to keep you safe and, failing that, have grieved my own mistakes. Now that I am no longer an angel, I wish to love you as a man. I promise to always love you, as I have always loved you; to protect you and care for you all the days of my life; to be a partner and a friend and a lover; to love and to cherish you, in this life and the next, so long as you so desire. I love you with all of my being, and I wish us never to be parted. And so, if you will have me, if you will accept my promise and my pledge, I would offer you my life and my heart and my soul forever and always, until the end of time.

The words were so beautiful, so heartfelt, that tears slipped from Rachel's eyes, knowing she could never respond with such eloquence, no matter how similar her feeling for the fallen angel who had risked everything for her. That sense of inadequacy made her falter, uncertainty creeping into her expression as she looked to the Lady for reassurance.

The Lady's smile softened, one hand reaching to gently stroke against the innocent young woman's cheek. "Your love knows your heart, little one," she assured the uncertain bride. "Words are simply words, simple or otherwise. Your promise is no less for a lack of beauty in the telling."

Reassured, Rachel swallowed her uncertainty, lifting her eyes to Zachariel once again as her fingers tightened on his beneath the wrap of the white ribbon. "Zachariel, I love you," she said softly. "I will always love you. If you will have me, I want to be yours forever and always."

In Zachariel's mind, there was nothing more that needed to be said. They had shared their hearts and made their vows, accepting the other's promise and offering a promise of their own. He had already given so much for her - his wings, his angelic brethren, his place in heaven - but none of those things came close to the love of this one woman. He understood now what it was that made humans so special, so unique in all of creation.

It was the desire to love and be loved; this love they shared with another being, so sacred and so true, like a small piece of the love God held for each of his creations, angel and human alike. "I love you, Rachel," he echoed her words, just as softly in return. High above them, the clouds parted, despite the flakes of snow that were gently drifting to the ground, and the sun peeked through the clouds, a ray of light shining down upon them, as if it was God's way of showing his approval of the promises that were being made that day. Though they would never know for certain, perhaps it was all just a part of God's plan.

Touched by the eloquent simplicity of the vows shared in her presence, the Lady took a moment before raising her eyes to Rhys, one hand outstretched for the rings he held close. The sunlight lanced down in a glowing aurora around the joined couple before her, with only one simple act yet to perform to complete the ceremony that would bind them in the eyes of all. "Lords and Ladies, guardians of all that is seen and unseen, bless these rings and this couple who shall wear them. Keep them safe through adversity forever, supported by your eternal blessing."

Rhys noticed with a little bit of awe the shaft of sunlight that seemed to enclose the other couple in radiant warmth and light, but said nothing of it. He let go of Nat's hand long enough to step forward and place the rings in the palm of the Lady's hand before retaking his place beside his wife to witness the joining of his sister and her chosen beloved.

The Lady took the rings into her palm, laying her hand over the ribbon that held Zachariel and Rachel's hands fast together for a long moment. Yet, when she took her hand away, there was no sign of the rings. With a secretive smile, she gently unwound the ribbon from the couple's hands, and there, on their fingers, sparkled Avalon's gift to them. As Rachel gasped in wonder, the Lady smiled once more, offering a final blessing. "May you be forever as one in the passion and fire of your love. You are now, as your hearts have always known you to be, Husband and Wife."

Rhys smiled warmly down at his sister, as he returned her hug, brotherly and affectionately before turning to find Natalya returning to join them. He looked past her a moment to the Lady behind her who seemed to be fading from view, and he offered her a warm smile and a respectful nod of silent, unspoken thanks.

"Spasibo, sestra," Zach returned in perfect Russian, which seemed only natural to him since she had addressed him in her native tongue. He embraced her, not quite as awkwardly as before. "Is that it then?" he asked, curiously.

Nat couldn't help the brightness of her smile to be addressed in return in her native tongue, though she wouldn't abuse Zachariel's understanding of Russian. Rhys could get jealous at the drop of a hat, without any reason, just as she could. "Yes, that is it," she told the fallen angel with a chuckle, stepping back from him. "Apart from the consummation, of course."

Rachel perked up at this, though the moment she opened her mouth, it became clear that she had again misunderstood. "Oh, good," she enthused. "I am very hungry."

Rhys chuckled, amused at this misunderstanding of his sister's, but was content to let her think they were talking about food for now. He had a feeling that left alone, his sister and the fallen angel would figure things out on their own, despite their obvious shyness and innocence. "Like I said, eat, drink, and be merry," he repeated with a grin and a wink at his wife. "Are we staying the night?" he asked Nat. Four was a crowd in the small tower house when two of the four were newlyweds, but the Lady had said nothing about festivities or any special accommodations for the night. In fact, compared to their wedding, the ceremony had been a very quiet and private one, which was just as well as he thought Zach and Rachel would prefer it that way.

"I would imagine that we are," Nat mused with a half-smile, hugging her arm through his. "We both know that the Lady would not have arranged this unless the other house was finished." She winked at Rachel, and a moment later, the younger woman caught on, hopeful excitement brimming in her expression.

She bounced on her toes, gripping Zachariel's cloak in her fingers. "Our house is finished?" she repeated delightedly. "Do you think we can see it?"

Zach was taken a little aback by this news, knowing a house was being built for them, but unaware that the building of it had been so close to being finished. "I suppose we should if we are going to live there," he replied, though he wasn't quite sure where they were going to live, at least, not permanently, but he trusted in the Lady's judgment enough not to worry too much about it. "When you saw us in your vision, were we here in Avalon?" he asked of Nat, curious for more details of what she'd seen.

"No, we were all in New York," the Russian woman told him, turning to draw the three of them away from the Lady's inner sanctum. "But I am sure there will always be a home for you on Avalon, as there is for us. It has been constructed for your use." She looked to Rhys for a little support in this assumption, hoping she'd got it right.

Natalya had told Rhys everything her brother had showed her, some of which he'd already seen for himself in the Lady's pool, and though Zachariel and Rachel's future seemed uncertain now, he knew everything would eventually come together. Still, he thought it was better not to speculate too much about the future, but rather encourage that they make the most of the present. The future would take care of itself. "The Lady welcomed you to Avalon. She's had a home built for you here, and you are welcome to stay as long and as often as you like."

"So ....we can see it?" Rachel asked again, obviously needing a little clarification before she committed herself to the prospect of her own space. Well, not entirely her own, but hers to share with Zachariel and no one else, hers to do with as she liked. A room, a home, that was not a prison.

Natalya chuckled as they passed from the Lady's garden, the rustle of vines enclosing the Chalice Well once again. "I think, sestrenka, you may do more than see it," she suggested to the newlyweds. "I think, perhaps, you may live in it."

"That's what I said!" Rhys interjected, having thought he'd made that abundantly clear, though not quite as clear as Natalya. He wasn't quite sure what the Lady's plan was for his sister and her newlywed spouse or even if she had a plan for them. In Natalya's glimpse of the future, they had all been together in New York, which meant that Rachel and Zach would eventually join them there, but that prompted more questions than it answered. Still, there was no reason to worry about it now. "You know," Rhys started with a smile as he realized something. "I think we should check it out," he suggested, tugging on Natalya's arm like an over-excited child.

"Check it out?" Zachariel echoed. "The house?" he asked.

"Our house!" Rachel squealed happily, abandoning her husband to break into a run, clearly more excited about the little house that had been built into one of the hills near the Temple than she had been inclined to show off in the months preceding this day.

Natalya laughed as the little woman went scurrying off, soon out of sight for the few moments it took for the rest of them to exit the Temple and turn in the appropriate direction. "I think, Zachariel, it may be wise to catch her before she breaks something," she suggested to the lucky husband, though she had a feeling Rhys might take to his heels as well. He never could resist an opportunity to play.

"What could she break?" Zach asked, looking a little startled by his wife's sudden and unexpected reaction to the news, though he was quick to hurry after her, if only to make sure she didn't fall. He had, after all, once been her Guardian, and in a way, still was. It was at times like these that he wished he still possessed a pair of wings against his back.

Left alone with his wife, Rhys gave her a pointed look, as if he knew she was up to something, but he wasn't sure what. "Do you want to tell me what?s going on in that head of yours, Mrs. Bristol?"

In the meantime, Zach was very seriously guarding Rachel and trying to keep her safe against the onslaught of snowballs from the group of children who saw him as a very large and far too serious target.

"Here, this isn't fair," one of the children complained. "We should split up more."

There was a pause for fierce debate, during which Rachel straightened, peeping out from behind Zach with a wide grin. She was radiating joy at being able to be so playful, something truly infectious about her laughter as one small hand seized hers and dragged her away. Zach was pulled by another small hand, and both adults were drawn into very swift, whispering huddles for a moment or two, heedless of the giggling shrieking coming from the other two.

Nat, despite having a soaked shirt and cold chest, wasn't giving in that easily, flailing to grab at Rhys' legs as he scrambled away from her. She smirked as she was hit by a memory of their honeymoon, inspiration striking in the same moment. One hand grasped his trousers and pulled, and the other ....Well, boxer shorts aren't made for defending a rear end against a handful of snow.

Zach's mouth opened to protest, as he was dragged away from Rachel and into a circle of chattering children who were whispering some plan of attack or other, and he quickly caught on that two teams had formed, apparently, separating him from Rachel. He uttered a few, "Buts," but was either ignored or shushed by the children who were determined to use the big guy to their advantage.

Rhys was cackling madly right up until Nat got a hold of his pants, and then he was shrieking again at the shock of cold that was suddenly filling his drawers. Once the snow was in his pants, it was very hard to get it out, melting quickly and leaving him with a wet and cold rear. "You..." He waggled an icy hand at her, smirking though his teeth were starting to chatter. "You are in so much trouble," he told her as he stalked his way toward her.

Snickering like a naughty schoolgirl, Nat scrambled to find her feet again as Rhys advanced on her, finding it very hard to be intimidated by a smirking man with soggy pants. "I hope so, milaya," she grinned back at him. "I have been trying hard enough." She flicked a glance toward the other couple, letting out a laugh at the sight of Rachel and a trio of small girls charging Zach and his quartet of boys.

"Be afraid, Nat. Be very afraid," he warned her with a smirk before giving a shout and charging forward, like he was charging into battle. He was far beyond caring what was going on with his sister and her new spouse, intent on carrying out a sweet kind of vengeance on his own wife for her part in this little game. She was really no match for him, and he grinned as he caught her, scooping off her feet and onto his shoulder, giving a triumphant yell and beating his chest with one fist, like Tarzan of the Jungle.

"May I be aroused instead, milaya"" she asked, just barely before he hoisted her up and off her feet, legs flailing as her skirt flipped up. Thank goodness for thick tights. Laughing, she patted Rhys' cold, wet rear end familiarly. "Hi-ho, Silver!"

"Yes! In fact, I demand it!" he replied with a grin, tugging her skirt down so that she didn't flash half of Avalon as he hauled her home to the little tower house they shared. He'd arrange to have Zach and Rachel's stuff sent over later or in the morning, if the Lady hadn't done so already. He turned in a circle, waving a hand at the other two, who seemed a little too busy with a snowball war to acknowledge them. "Good night!" he called. "We'll see you in the morning! Don't forget to consummate the marriage!" He didn't wait for a reply, turning his back to trudge back to the warmth of their house, leaving the other two to it. He knew if they kept going the way they were going, they'd eventually figure it out for themselves.

Rachel raised her hand in farewell to her brother and his wife, caught by surprise with a snowball to the neck while she wasn't looking. In retaliation, her little army of girls charged once again, and this time they managed to get one of the boys down into the snow before being beaten back.

Thankfully, Zach was starting to get the hang of this snowball thing, and the boys were using him as a shield while they attacked from behind, fanning out in an all out attack when they got closer. Eventually, they were beaten back and had to regroup before they could make their next attack.

Sadly for the boys, there was no actual coherent plan on the part of the girls at all. As soon as they fell back to regroup, Rachel led her girls in a charge, launching herself in a laughing leap at Zach and trusting him to catch her as the children tumbled to the snow in various states of surprise and hilarity.

Caught her he did, but not before going down in a heap into a pile of snow with a soft thud, her tumbling across him as the girls launched themselves after the boys. He blinked up at her, out of breath, his cheeks flushed with cold and exhilaration at the play, which he had to admit he'd enjoyed, as silly and confusing as it had been. "Are you all right?" he asked very seriously up at her.

As flushed as he, as exhilarated as he, Rachel didn't answer for a long moment, too busy kissing him where they had fallen in the snow. The sense of play, of being so comfortable with him, had fired her blood, lending her a confidence she'd had no idea was a part of herself, and in turn, rewarding Zach's involvement with the kind of kisses that were guaranteed to embarrass him if he got a moment to realize what was happening.

While she was busy kissing him, he had grabbed a fistful of snow, but he found himself distracted with her kisses and forgot about the revenge he had planned for her, instead finding himself reacting to her kisses, to the warmth of her body pressed close to hers, to the adrenalin that was flowing through his bloodstream and his growing desire with a different kind of heat, one that came from deep within, like a fire slowly building. She was close enough to feel the hardness of his body beneath her, the heat that was building between them, the breathless kisses that were shared between them. He felt his body reacting to her, wanting her, needing her in a way he had never felt before, in a way neither of them would be able to ignore.

"Sort of, yes..." he admitted, following her with his eyes as she moved about the house, unsure how to explain what he was feeling. "Food?" he echoed, remembering something as he followed her into what seemed to be the kitchen of their new home. "You said you were hungry," he reminded her, realizing they had not eaten since much earlier that day.

Distracted once again, Rachel stood for a long moment, stroking a single fingertip over the polished and varnished oak of their worktop beside the two plates of steaming stew and fresh bread, soaking in the feeling of home. Because it did feel like home, their home. Realizing Zachariel had spoken to her, she jumped, looking up with innocent guilt in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening," she owned up and apologized in one breath. "What did you say, beloved?"

He noticed that she'd turned quiet, and he wondered what she was thinking. She seemed happy - there was a smile on her face - but he felt suddenly separate, apart from her as she got lost in her own thoughts that he could not be a part of. "You were saying that you were hungry," he repeated, unable to hide the curiosity from his eyes.

"Yes, I'm hungry," she agreed, her smile brightening. The curiosity in his eyes did not go unnoticed, but she had no idea what had sparked it off. Her hands rose to undo her cloak and hang it by the door, the movements as automatic as though they had lived in this little house for years. "You should wash your hands before we eat," she told him, a tiny little mothering presence, half-stern with instruction, half-smiling with delight at having a place to wash hands and eat dinner.

He looked down at his hands, which didn't appear dirty at all to him. In fact, after their play in the snow, if anything, they were merely cold, but he wanted to please her, and washing his hands seemed a small concession to make. "Very well," he replied, looking around for a place to do just that.

There was a sink in the kitchen, usefully enough, as well as a narrow door standing open against the far wall that led into a bathroom suite. Room enough for both of them to wash up, once Rachel had finished playing with setting the table. "I've never had a table to set," she admitted with a shy smile. "Or someone to set it for. I read about it in books, about families sitting down at the table to eat together, and Rhys and Natalya do it. You don't mind, do you? We could sit somewhere else and eat, if you would rather."

"What?" he asked, distracted from his own thoughts by her rambling about the table. It took him a moment, but he finally located the sink and headed that way to scrub his hands, like she'd asked. "No, I don't mind. It's what people do. Families." He paused a moment as another thought came to mind. He knew they were part of a family, which included Rhys and Natalya, but here it was only the two of them. "Are we a family now, Rachel?"

"Of course we are," she said with all the conviction of a small child, her innocence all the support she needed for such a firm point. "You and me, we are a family, and we are a part of the family with Rhys and Natalya, and someday we will plant a baby seed and make our family a little bit bigger." She paused, realizing that they hadn't really ever discussed that point. "That is, if you want to. I'm sure if you don't want to, I can borrow someone else's baby to play with sometimes."

He turned off the water and after a moment's search, wiped his hands dry on a towel, looking over her with furrowed, puzzled brows. "Why would I not want a child with you?" he asked, wondering why she kept asking what he wanted. He wanted what she wanted, nothing more, nothing less.

"Because sometimes people don't want babies," Rachel shrugged, moving to wash her own hands at the sink now he was done. "Sometimes they are happy just being two people in a family, and I don't want to assume that you want exactly the same things I want, because the things I want are very simple and some people would call them boring, and I don't want you to be bored with me, Zachariel."

"Bored with you? How could I ever be bored with you?" he asked, standing beside her and waiting until she was finished washing her hands before offering her the towel. "Have you not heard what I've been telling you?" He sighed, wondering if she truly understood how much all of this meant to him, how much she meant to him.

"But you haven't been telling me anything," she pointed out gently, wiping her hands dry. "I know you love me, and we made a promise. But you barely speak. I don't know what it is you want, what you hope for, what you feel in a given moment, because you don't tell me. And I talk all the time, and it must get annoying."

"It doesn't get annoying," Zachariel pointed out, answering to the last part of what she was saying first. He frowned a little at the rest of it, afraid he'd upset her in some way. "I'm sorry, I..." He broke off, unsure how to explain even this. He'd never been human before; he'd never had to express his feelings to anyone. As an angel, he was used to taking orders. He was used to watching and waiting, quietly in the shadows. No one was interested in what he thought or what he might be thinking. He existed for one reason and one reason only and that was to watch over and help humanity. There were no choices in that, and yet, he'd made a very big choice only recently, one that had changed his entire existence.

"I don't want to live our lives in silence," Rachel told him softly, curling her hands into his. "I love you, Zachariel, but I know so little about you. I don't know what you like, or what you dislike; I don't know what you would like to do with your life, what interests you. You start to speak and then you dry up, and I can't help feeling like I've made a mistake asking you any question at all." It was her turn to sigh now, turning away to pick up the plates. "Come and eat."

He was about to respond to her concerns when she admonished him to come and eat. Should he answer her anyway' Should he explain" Or should he file it away and just try to express himself better" Part of the problem was that he couldn't very well tell her what he wanted or liked and disliked if he didn't know himself. He watched quietly as she turned away from him, used to watching her silently through millenia, unable to speak to her, to tell her what he was feeling. But all that was different now, and she wanted to know. "How can I tell you that which I do not know?" he asked her simply.

"But you must know something that you like," she pointed out, laying the plates down on the table and sliding onto a chair. Her hand patted the table beside his meal, inviting him to come and sit with her. "You have so much experience, you've seen so much. Did you not enjoy any of it?"

"I do not think you would," she told him confidently as they ate. "It was fun. I think we both need to learn how to have fun, without worrying if we are going to hurt each other. Snow is soft. And if children can play at it without getting hurt, then so can we." She grinned, giggling at the memory. "Besides, Rhys wasn't worried about hurting Natalya, and she has a baby in her."

"So she does," the fallen angel replied, thoughtfully. He remembered when Rhys was an angel, like himself - the angel Rathanael - and now they were both human, both having been given the gift of a mortal soul, though by different means. He wondered just how much Rachel knew of her brother and his origins or if it even mattered. "I have known your brother a very long time, though he does not remember me."

Of course Rachel knew a little of the truth - her mother's ghost had explained a little to her as she grew up, just enough for her to know that someday her brother would come and find her. "What was he like, when he was a real angel?" she asked Zachariel curiously. "Is Heaven really made of clouds?"

The angel had slipped back into his own thoughts again for a moment - thoughts of heaven, of the past, of his friendship with Rhys who had once been Rath. Rhys had found his place in the world; he had found a purpose, and Zachariel wondered if he would do the same. "Clouds" No. Heaven is....I do not think the words exist to describe Heaven. It is very different from Earth." He picked up his spoon and scooped up a bit of stew. He turned to the simpler question to answer, that of her brother. "His name was Rathanael," the angel started, as if this was important. Names held great meaning and power, after all, though few mortals were aware of it. "He was a fierce warrior and a true friend."

"He is a good man," Rachel said quietly, "even if he is a bit rude sometimes with the way he says things. And he is a fierce warrior still, just not in the same way, I assume. I-I would hope that you and he will regain that friendship now you're both ....well, mortal."

"He does not remember me or his life as an angel," Zachariel pointed out. "But you were not born his sister by accident," he added, before taking up a bit more stew, finding he was hungrier than he'd thought.

"It doesn't matter if he doesn't remember you," his new wife pointed out in return. "Friendship can grow out of any relationship, and I would very much like you to be friends with my brother. He's your brother again now." She paused a moment to chew and swallow, green eyes lighting up curiously at his addendum. "What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know," he admitted, furrowing his brows in thought. "Only that very few things happen by accident. Most things happen for a reason. God has a plan, but no one - not even angels - know what that plan is. I do not believe you were born Rhys' sister by accident. I believe it was for a reason. Perhaps I am the reason. I don't know, but he was my brother, and now he is your brother. I do not think that is a coincidence." The way Zachariel said it, it didn't sound like he only meant that they'd been brothers in arms.

"If you are the reason I was born, then I am very happy with that purpose," she told him, sincere and honest in her conclusion. "My mother said I wasn't supposed to be born, that it was only supposed to be Rhys, but that they took the risk because they wanted him to have a sibling. Do you think maybe that was the plan all along?"

"I don't know," he replied again, a far-away look in his eyes for a moment before he blinked out of his thoughts with a slight shrug. "Perhaps I am thinking too much. It does not matter," he told her with a soft, reassuring smile, not wanting to worry her, though there was something on his mind.

She watched as those unspoken thoughts consumed him for a long moment, smiling at his reassurance, not wanting to point out so soon after their misunderstanding that he was not telling her something again. "If it matters to you, then it matters to me," was all she said, carefully wiping the last of her bread around the bowl in front of her to clean up the last drips of stew.

He considered that a moment, as well, not wanting to keep anything from her and yet not wanting to worry her either. "It is just that Rathanael - Rhys - was given the gift of a mortal soul because he earned it. He was given a choice, and he chose to be human. I was given a mortal soul because..." Because....why' Because he had disobeyed orders and interfered in human affairs, losing his wings in the process. Because he had fallen in love with a mortal woman. Because he had sacrificed his angelic soul for the love of a woman. It was against the rules, but whose rules" God's or the angels'"

"You were given a mortal soul because I couldn't live without you," Rachel said, her soft voice trembling, shaken by the way he seemed to be second-guessing the gift he had been given. "Because you spent years searching for me, and when you found me, you risked everything to save my life." She bit her lip, a small frown darkening her brow. "D-did we make the wrong choice f-for you?"

"No," he was quick to assure her, reaching across the table for her hand. "No, I am happy here with you." He frowned a moment, unsure how much he should tell her before continuing. "There is no place I would rather be than here with you. Please, Rachel. You must believe me. It is just that I am worried about Michael."

"I do believe you," she promised him, letting her fingers lock with his against the smooth surface of the table, her stutter eased away by the reassurance he offered her. "I don't want you to worry. Whoever Michael is, he can't touch you here, and I'm sure the Lady or Rhys will think of some way to keep him from you."

"Yes," he agreed again, meeting her gaze, his fingers linked with hers. "It is safe here. The angels do not know of this place." It was true; they were safe, so long as they stayed in Avalon, but he had a feeling they could not stay here forever. Natalya had seen them in New York with two sons and another on the way. Was that at least not proof that all would be well" The thought of that brought a smile to his face, almost without realizing it. "Natalya tells me we will have sons."

He couldn't have chosen a better subject change. Rachel's face lit up, her smile bright and delightedly hopeful as he mentioned a little of what he had been told that morning. "Oh, that's lovely," she declared happily. "I'm sure I could easily pick boys from the baby tree."

"Baby tree?" he echoed, curiously, a puzzled expression on his face. "Babies do not grow on trees, Rachel. They grow inside a woman's womb."

White and pink and peach blooms met his gaze, strangely out of season and yet as healthy and lovely as they would have been in summer, curled about with shades of green. The glass ceiling was encrusted with snow, yes, but drifts had blown away to let the sunlight filter through brightly. Rachel turned to Zachariel as he entered, her pretty face lit up with pleasure. "Isn't it wonderful?" she gushed happily, wanting to share her new love of their home with him as much as she could.

"Yes," he answered, eyes wide with wonder as he joined her in the greenhouse. What had he said about roses just a little while ago' Did they smell as lovely as they looked" It was time to find out. He reached toward a bloom with outstretched fingers poised to touch, looking to her as if for permission. "May I?"

"Of course," his merry little wife assured him as she twirled in the shaft of sunlight lancing down through the glass roof, her blonde hair a-glow in the natural illumination. Another door in the far wall was made of sturdier wood, and seemed to lead outside once again, but she felt no inclination to explore that one, instead looking up through the glass to spy the window of the open bedroom in the other part of the house.

He reached for the rose with gentle fingers, leaning in so that he could inhale its scent. He closed his eyes as he breathed it in, letting the scent fill his senses. It was a pleasant scent, unlike anything he'd ever smelled before. "It smells like summer," he said, though he wasn't entirely sure what summer smelled like. He opened his eyes, looking over to find her spinning in the shaft of light, smiling and happy, and he found himself smiling watching her. He turned back on impulse to pluck a rose from the vine, not noticing the thorn that pricked his finger until it was too late.

It took a long moment for Rachel to respond to his words, turning to smile at him as he reached to pluck one of the roses from the vine. "It does?" she asked curiously. Like him, she had no idea what summer felt like, much less what it looked or smelled like, but if he could scent a rose and give it a name like that, she wanted to smell the same scent.

He frowned a little at the sharp pain in his thumb, watching as a bead of blood welled up where the thorn had broken the skin. Though the pain was sharp, it was brief, nothing like the pain he'd felt at the hands of the witches, and a thought came to him that this was what it was to be alive. Pleasure and pain, joy and sadness, life and death. How could such a beautiful thing as a rose cause such a sharp pain" It seemed ironic somehow, a metaphor for life, perhaps. "It has thorns," he warned her before sucking at the bead of blood on his thumb.

"So ....we should treat them with respect," she said musingly, gently taking his hand in hers to inspect the tiny wound on his finger. The roses were forgotten in the wake of her concern for him; the last time she had seen blood, men and women had died. "Does it hurt, beloved?"

"Not much," he replied, unable to lie. It hurt a little, but in comparison to the agony he'd lost his wings, it was nothing. He tilted his head at her as he realized something else - not all pain was pointless agony. Childbirth, for example. He had witnessed humans in pain, but as an angel, he had never himself known pain, until recently. "It will hurt, Rachel. The first time."

Inexperienced as she was, she did not have the first idea what he was referring to, simply raising his injured finger to her lips, kissing the tiny wound instinctively. "Does that feel better?" she asked him, raising her half smile for his eyes once again.

"Yes, it's better," he admitted, the sting of the wound fading slowly away. He offered her the rose, careful this time of the thorns. "For you." She did not ask what he'd meant, and he did not explain, at least, for now.

Her small hands cupped the petals of the rose he offered her, a soft blush rising on her cheeks to paint her skin the same shade of pale rose as the flower in her grasp as she raised it to her nose to breathe in the scent. For a moment there was silence, before she beamed her delight once again. "It does smell of summer," she declared, agreeing with him cheerfully once more. "We have a whole room that smells of summer!"

"It's..." He paused to take another look around, as if he was just seeing the room for what it was. "It's an indoor garden," he declared, eyes wide with wonder. He had, of course, seen things like this before, but he had never paid much attention to them.

"And it's ours," Rachel giggled, bouncing up on her toes to kiss his cheek once again. "I want to see if I can see into this room from the bed place." With a fresh peal of laughter, she scurried out of the room, turning and almost immediately tripping over her skirts in her rush to climb the rough-hewn steps that stood to the left of the door she had hurried through. Laughing at her own fall, she crawled up to the platform above the kitchen, moving immediately to the window to peer down at the glass that roofed the rose room.

He was accustomed to following her wherever she went, just as he had when he'd been her guardian, and today was no exception. He hurried after her to pick her up from the floor when she tripped and follow her like a shadow up the stairs to the loft above the kitchen that was their bedroom. It would not be the first time they'd slept together; they had been sharing Natalya and Rhys' home for weeks, but now that they were joined in marriage, that bed was no longer just for sleeping.

The view from that window was not just over the glass roof of their rose room, but beyond, to where a small garden had been put together for them. For now, the beds were bare, the only thing growing the grass beneath the snow, but in spring, there would be greenery and blooms of bright color in that garden for their enjoyment. Rachel clapped her hands with joy at everything she saw and felt, turning to push into Zachariel's arms in a warm, loving embrace. "It's all perfect," she smiled, kissing his chest through his tunic. "Isn't it' Having a home, with you. It's wonderful."

He looked out on the snow-covered view for a moment, before his gaze drifted to her, with her golden hair and emerald eyes, a smile that could light up the darkest room. She was happy, and her happiness filled his heart with warmth and joy. He slid his arms around her as she pushed herself into his embrace. "It's more than I could have ever hoped for," he told her softly, as he looked into her eyes.

Again, she found herself moaning softly, the sound taking on a hungry edge as she felt his fingers loosening the laces that bound her into the thick overdress that encased her. This time it was her hands that rose to cradle his face, her lips that deepened the kiss as she trembled in his arms, too far gone for words. If he were to change his mind now, there was every possibility that his bonny little wife would cry.

They had come too far to turn back now, and now that they were bonded in the eyes of the Lady, there was no point in waiting any longer. It would take time for him to become accustomed to this body, to being human, but it would only get easier with time, and there was such joy in knowing that no one could keep them apart. He pulled away from her lips for just a moment, looking deep into her eyes, needing her to understand what he was about to tell her. "I will try to be gentle," he whispered as he leaned his forehead against hers. There was no turning back; they could only go forward, together forever, as long as she'd have him.

She didn't quite understand what he meant, but she took the whispered promise to heart, closing her eyes as she leaned into him, breathing in the uniqueness of his scent as her fingertips ghosted through his hair. "I love you, my Zachariel," she whispered in turn, letting her hands fall from his face, the weight of that overdress sliding from her shoulders, leaving her bare-armed in her dark chemise.

His gaze moved over her as she let the heavy overdress slide from her shoulders, leaving her only in her chemise. Her declaration of love sent his heart soaring, helping him to overcome his fears. "I love you, Rachel," he whispered back, gathering his courage to remove that last layer of clothing that hid her from his sight, revealing the womanly curves of her body that were promised to him, for his eyes only, his fingers grazing her flesh as he coaxed that last bit of cloth from her. He kissed her again as he laid her gently back against the bed, his lips drifting away from hers to trail kisses against her neck, her shoulder, and on downward, exploring and memorizing every curve and valley, until he could wait no longer.

Untouched and untried, she was his and his alone, to love and desire as he wished. Her porcelain pale skin flushed sweetly pink as he drew away that last vestige of cloth, not precisely shy, but concerned that she might not please him. But before any such worry could be made verbal, he was kissing her once more, washing away her fear with the warmth of his passionate affection. Small and vulnerable in his arms, she bent like a willow to his breeze, laid back beneath him in growing agitation, restless for something she could not name as his hands and lips explored the mortal form of the woman he so adored.

He drew back from her with a ragged breath, fumbling with his tunic in his haste to be as free of any restraint as was she. He frowned faintly, fear nagging at his brain a moment, as he looked down on her with only his trousers separating them, realizing once again that she had no way of knowing what would come next. He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether or not to go on, but to turn back now was to give in to his fears. He was a warrior and a guardian, not a lover, and yet, there was only one way to learn. He drew a deep breath as he stepped out of his trousers, feeling suddenly as vulnerable and naked as he did without his wings.

For a man who did not think himself a lover, he had certainly convinced his wife of that fact. She gazed up at him adoringly, sprawled across the bed in unspoken, languid invitation to return to her and finish what they had begun together. She had never seen a man unclothed - nor indeed, would she ever see another man unclothed - but in Rachel's eyes, Zachariel was perfect. Pushing herself up, she reached out to touch him, flushed with desire, smiling in loving admiration of him. "You are so very beautiful," she heard herself murmur, amazed by the husky, wanting timbre of her voice in this intimate moment.

His face flushed hotly, not so much with embarrassment as with desire and relief that this human body he was trapped in pleased her as much as she had pleased him. "I want you, Rachel, but I'm afraid," he admitted, frowning faintly. Not afraid for himself, but for her. "I don't want to hurt you." In fact, he had existed solely to keep her safe for as long as he could remember. The possibility of hurting her was simply unthinkable, but he knew if they wanted to live as husband and wife, he would have to hurt her, at least a little, this once.

"Don't be afraid," she told him softly, reaching to take his hand and draw him down onto the bed beside her. Now she had seen him in all his glory, what they were about to do was not such a mystery any longer. Her hand skimmed over his pale skin, touching him as he had touched her, soft lips trailing over his heart. "I am not afraid."

He sighed at her touch, which seemed to soothe and relax his fears, even as his desire for her deepened. "So beautiful," he murmured, touching the gold of her hair once again as he pushed it back from her face to gaze into the soft green of her eyes. He pushed her gently onto her back, covering her with his body, no secrets between them in their mutual nakedness. He had seen it done so many times, and yet, it was all new to him. "It will hurt for a moment," he warned her, gently, his body obviously ready for her.

"Only a moment," was her gentle reply, her form soft and responsive beneath his as she arched with quiet impatience, tired of waiting, of not knowing. Blonde hair spread like a halo around her head as she relaxed beneath him, unable to do more than be led to the conclusion that awaited them, unknowing quite what exactly she was waiting for but prepared to wait until he showed her.

"Close your eyes," he told her, leaning close to kiss each eye closed. Perhaps if she didn't see, didn't watch him, didn't know when the pain would come, it would hurt a little less. It was now or never; if he didn't have her now, he would simply die of desire. He looked down on her face, so lovely, so innocent, so trusting as she waited for him. His instincts were telling him to distract her from the pain somehow, and he kissed her again, putting everything he could into that kiss, all he was feeling and thinking and hoping for, even as he sheathed himself inside her, as gently and slowly as he could, deepening the kiss as he pushed past the barrier, letting his body's instincts lead the way.

Trusting him to be as gentle with her as he had promised, Rachel surrendered wholeheartedly, relaxing back against the sheets as he kissed her. The pain he had warned her of was fleeting, a single sharp sting that was swept away by the very thing that had caused it - the sensation of him inside her. Her eyes snapped open, wide with wonder and amazed arousal, her mouth fallen open to release a low cry of delight that expressed so much in a single syllable. She arched to him tenderly, her limbs wrapping about his lithe form as her lips toyed with his, sharing her pleasure with him without reserve.