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Before you traveled with the Doctor, you didn’t know that snow could look just as beautiful– if not more– on other planets as it did on Earth.
Your attention to the snowflakes had started out innocent enough; when the doors to the TARDIS opened and revealed the winter frost of the planet of Sioc, a tiny planet apart of the Northern Lumelia Belt, you’d immediately traced the path of the snowflakes with your eyes. The Doctor had told you that these were unlike the ones that fell on your home planet, and it was easy to see why.
Each snowflake, for as small as they were, glowed in the light of the burning street lanterns, almost like stars. You couldn’t restrain your smile at the sight. You held your hand out to catch the snow in your palms, and like on your home planet, it melted at the touch of your hand, leaving behind trails of glistening water.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
You were glad the cold could mask the shiver that traveled from the base of your spine to your neck from the feel of the Doctor’s mouth beside your ear. Glad to focus on the twinkling snowfall, you could almost fully put the brush of her lips against the shell of your ear to the back of your mind.
Despite the sudden sound of her voice bleeding into the otherwise quiet hum of a moment, you didn’t flinch at the lull of her voice. It wrapped around you like a scarf, and the feel of her presence on your back warmed the fledgling goosebumps along your skin.
The Doctor didn’t stay there long enough for you to relish in the heat of everything that was so wholly her. She moved past you, running into the snow. That’s when your reason for caring so heavily about the snowflakes changed.
It became less about the starlight-spotted flakes and more about the way they sprinkled her hair like woven flowers. They landed on the top of her head; you saw the winks of light from them before they were lost with the heat, just as they had in your hand. Even though the crown of snowflakes melted, you noticed the few that remained when she beckoned you closer.
The Doctor held her hand out to you to join her in her gleeful dance across the frost-coated ground. Who were you to deny her the simple yet coveted pleasure of an embrace? Especially when that gleam in her eyes harbored the most admiration you’d ever seen on another living being.
Upon approach, you noted that the once-thought gleam– though her eyes still held that awe– had actually been the light of the snowflakes caught on the curve of her eyelashes. So curious as to how those ones remained despite the heat emanating from her, you were instantly transfixed.
If the dumbstruck look of wonder had been as evident on your face as it felt inward, the Doctor hadn’t seemed to notice. Instinct, however, told you that she did, because she was somehow always able to pick up the things you wished she hadn’t. She made use of that skill when you were unsuspecting; no doubt that she’d say something in that informed way, just as you were in the midst of–
“Something on my face there, love?”
Just as you were in the midst of regathering yourself.
“Nothing.” With how fast the word had come off your tongue, you immediately pegged it for a lie. And if you could tell it was, then there was no way she hadn’t.
“Is that so?” The slight raise of her brow and the smirk that took over the fine lines of her face were threats to the containment of your embarrassment. Leave it to the Doctor, though, to find a way to further undo your hard work at composing yourself. She leaned close to your face after a light tug at your arms toward her. You felt the humorous puff of breath that escaped her when she said, “How about now? See anything?”
She was trying to kill you. Plain and simple. You knew for sure that she was when she got even closer to your face, the skin of hers hovering over yours with barely even an inch between you. In the intoxicating haze of everything so purely her, your eyes fluttered to a close.
You thought you might feel the soft touch of her lips but instead felt a barely-there sensation tickling your cheek. Confused by the difference in your expectation, you opened your eyes to the gold of her hair. It took you longer to realize than you were willing to admit that the featherlight touch you’d felt was the slow drag of the Doctor’s lashes. A butterfly kiss, you knew it as.
One blink, then two. Three. Four. And by the time you’d counted the ninth blink, and by the time she pulled away, you were just about completely undone.
The Doctor smiled endearingly at the flustered expression you were positive you donned when she pulled back. She kindly gave you an out with her question, “So, you like it so far?”
Grateful for the distraction from your momentary lapse of focus, you gave into the Doctor’s implied request of praising her for her choice of destination. Always so keen on hearing how much you loved the places she chose, you sighed happily, “It’s gorgeous, Doctor. How do you always know the best sights, hmm?”
“Lots of traveling,” The Doctor grinned, nipping your cheek lightly then she kissed it for your slightly sarcastic tone. “One day, I’ll catch you up on all of it. Show you everywhere I’ve been. Or, most of it. Maybe half of it– Okay, a good amount of it. I’m not welcome in quite a few places– Like Texas. Well, that one's for the best. Or maybe–”
Your laughter interrupted the Doctor’s rant. Instead of chastising you in that fake-angry way she liked to, she couldn’t help but descend into laughter with you. The sounds of the two of you rang against the silent night like two bells in perfect harmony.
When the indulgent noises between the two of you died down, the Doctor happily sighed, “This isn’t even the best part. Come on, the village is just this way!”
Whatever this “best part” was, the Doctor had been hyping it up since before the two of you even left the doorstep of your apartment. While she was throwing warm winter wear at you and bundling you up, she’d been telling you about the Féile na Féileacáin, or “the Festival of–” She’d cut herself off before she finished the translation, adamant about keeping it a secret.
One of her little quirks you so adored, the Doctor was always partial to surprising you with her trips instead of telling you beforehand. She insisted that it made the experience better, but you figured that she just wanted to see the look on your face when you were truly amazed. Sometimes, when she’d take you somewhere with the most spectacular sights, you could see her out of the corner of your eye, just watching you. Most times, she’d miss whatever she meant to show you, just so she would look at the dazzled smile gracing your features.
Were you to confront her about it, she would say something along the lines of having seeing it a million times before, then say that number wasn’t an exaggeration.
You thought about how if you brought it up to her, she might not do it again. The Doctor could be quite stubborn– as well as easily embarrassed, not that she would admit as much. You weren’t willing to sacrifice the little blessing that look was.
So, you kept your nagging curiosity quiet and let the Doctor drag you down the lantern-lined path. You silently bid the TARDIS goodbye as the image of her became more blurry the further down you went.
At the base of the hill where the TARDIS was perched, lay a village tucked between groves of trees that boomed with liveliness. The melodic strumming and plucking of fiddles and guitars seeped into the mixed laughter of yourself and the Doctor which faded beneath the joyous merriment from the surrounding crowd. Clapping, cheering, and singing to an old hymn, you basked in the blissful glee around you.
The people, you found, were an identical reflection of the blitheness of the village decorations. Lanterns lit with stubborn candle flames were strung between buildings, like structured stars in the night sky. The fountain at the center of the village was frozen in curls of ice, which the children seemed to make their playground by jumping off and balancing along the edges.
But it wasn’t the fountain or the lanterns or even the snow that still flurried around you that held your interest, but the shape of every piece of decor speckling the village. One consistent pattern you spotted in nearly every spot you looked was the spread, delicate curve of wings. At the center of those wings, a thin body connected the two in a familiar outline.
“Doctor?”
“Hmm?” The Doctor sounded like her mind had been elsewhere.
“Does Féile na Féileacáin mean ‘Festival of Butterflies?’” You asked with a knowing lilt.
The Doctor, tearing herself from wherever her focus lay, opened her mouth to ask, “How did you–?” But a quick sweep around the area brought a slight scowl to the Doctor’s face.
You could only give an amused, subdued laugh so as to not evoke the Doctor’s ranting. Any other time you might’ve, but instead of teasing, you asked, “Where does the butterfly part come from?”
The Doctor lightly scoffed with a smile playing at the corner of her lips, “You’re not gonna get that out of me so easily, love.”
Accepting defeat, you looked at the vendors padding the streets. They were selling everything you could imagine: hot cider made with a fruit you didn’t recognize, bread with curls of steam wafting through the air and coiling around your nose, and games– so many games. You’d seen a dozen or so card matches, and there were children loudly proclaiming their superior talent while their friends seethed from a loss that seemed to have cost their pride.
You thought that the Doctor would, for sure, go to one of those booths, but when you turned to ask her which she wanted to see first, she was gone.
One of the Doctor’s less favorable habits was disappearing on you. Something would catch her attention– most times mid-conversation– and you’d turn around to find a vacancy in the spot she once stood. The first few times she did it, you were terrified, and while you still couldn’t always quell the sudden nervousness at her disappearance, you knew you’d always find your way back to her side. And thankfully, she never went far. Anymore.
It didn’t take long for you to find her near a little stall a few meters from you. She seemed to have been in negotiations with the person running it over something, but you weren’t close enough to discern what was being sold there. Anytime you managed to catch a note of something, someone was passing by to obstruct your vision. Really, with how many people were at this festival, it was a marvel the Doctor managed to slip away so stealthily.
You began to march towards her through the sea of people, but your own focus was stolen by the engaging voice of a nearby woman.
“Gather 'round everyone,” Children were grouping around a woman surrounded by a dozen burning candles. She smiled at them and spoke in a voice that held years of stories. “And hear the tale of the Snow Fairy’s Gift! It begins with the lone snow fairy. Wings formed from the snowflakes you see here,” The woman caught the glistening snowflakes in the palm of her hand. “The fairy lived in the forests of Sioc, hiding beneath the towering trees with their shadowed branches. For you see, the one thing the snow fairy learned quickly in her birth, was that the Sun was her enemy.
“Surely, should she walk beneath the Sun’s rays, her wings would melt so she remained hidden from her. All, for as long as the winter months remained, was peaceful, and the snow fairy was happy. But one day, she realized that the winter’s frost bled into the water of spring. Knowing the changing tides of the seasons would be unsurvivable, she knew she must fly somewhere safe, but found herself stuck.
“Night was too dark for travel, and midday would surely spell disaster. So, the fairy fled from the forest at the first light of dawn, just as the Sun stretched over the horizon. But there was something the fairy hadn’t yet realized: the Sun knew of the snow fairy, and she loved her.”
Some of the children nearby descended into giggles and cooing while others audibly gagged in pretend disgust. You let out your own hum of acknowledgment to the sweet sentiments.
“But because the Sun knew that their love couldn’t be,” The woman’s face took a melancholic yet hopeful expression. Such contradiction was difficult to process, yet beautiful to experience. “She presented the snow fairy with a gift. At the hour of their first meeting, the Sun gave her Radiance.”
The woman bent down and scooped snow into the palm of her hand. She threw the gathered snow into the air, and as they danced back to the ground, the delicate flakes caught the candlelight. The powdery mist reflected against it in descending swirls of magnificent color.
With the rest of the crowd, you gasped in delight. Around you, people clapped their hands together; you joined in the second it registered that the sound around you was applause and not the white noise of amazement.
“In such adoration of the present bestowed upon her, the snow fairy vowed to always return to the forests. And though they could not be together, and though the snow fairy could only remain in the Sun’s presence for so short a time, their gift would always grace the lands of Sioc at the turning of the seasons.”
“Sioc has some of the most beautiful folklore,” The Doctor’s voice reappeared beside you, penetrating the round of applause the woman received. There, like she hadn’t left at all, the Doctor observed the storyteller with subdued interest, as if she’d heard the story before then, which she probably had, before turning that attention to you. “Don’t you think?”
Instead of giving her the affirmative answer she hoped for– likely to distract you from the fact she disappeared on you again, you raised a brow and crossed your arms. “And where did you run off to just now?”
The Doctor shrugged. “Nowhere important.”
“Mhm,” You doubtfully hummed. You pointedly looked to the stall you’d just seen the Doctor at. “I wonder what’s over there– should we go have a look?”
The Doctor was very good at lying, this much you knew to be true. But every so often, if you managed to catch her off guard, you’d see the crack in her demeanor. It was slight, but you’d been so privy to the Doctor’s mannerisms that you could pinpoint the exact moment she realized she’d been had. It was only a swift second after that she grabbed your hand and began tugging you towards the center of town.
“No time for that,” The words tumbled past her lips hurriedly, matching the speed of her gait. “They’re getting started!”
Whatever was beginning had started with the formation of crowd clusters around the frozen fountain. Then the candlelight had dimmed down, people smothering the flames or blowing them out to create coils of smoke in the air. What had been a bustle of brightly-lit streets and folk music only minutes prior was turning hushed, the only thing able to guide you being the sky which grew increasingly blue with the start of the sunrise.
The Doctor maneuvered the two of you through the crowds, her hand never once straying from yours. Unconsciously, you squeezed the fingers that intertwined with yours, and the squeeze back sent a comforting warmth through your body. She was so focused on getting you to the spot she wanted the two of you to be that she didn’t look back, but you couldn’t help but send her a smile of gratitude.
Behind a building of what might be a tavern, there was a staircase leading up to a balcony overseeing the town. It was vacant, leaving the two of you to your own devices.
“Doctor, what are we–?”
A finger fell to your lips in a quieting gesture. Your eyes momentarily flicked from the index finger that skated off your bottom lip back to the Doctor. She had that knowing grin, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was for the reaction she pulled from you or whatever was about to begin.
Then, when there was only the whistle of the frozen breeze and the last flame had been snuffed out, you understood.
It began with one. One so small that you mistook it for one of the many snowflakes that continued their silent ballet through the air. Then there were more, and there were many.
The flock of whatever was emerging from the depths of the surrounding forest had done so slowly and stayed so close together that you struggled to make sense of what they were. You pushed your hands against the railing to get a better look, but all that could be discerned was the constant flickering of an icy shade of blue with no clear outlines.
You leaned towards the Doctor, still not taking your eyes off the approaching creatures in the instance you preemptively figured it out. “Doctor, what are those?”
“Patience, love.” As if she was one to talk about patience…
But patience, you discovered, was exactly what you needed. True to your initial observation, the swarm moved with a nearly maddening speed. However, when the first wave that led them in their flight reached the village streets in a cyclone of blue, you noticed that same distinct shape you’d seen a hundred times that night.
“Are those…” Right. Of course. “Butterflies…?” The word left you in a breathy gasp. Of course it would be butterflies, the decorations had told you that– but with the Doctor, surely not just any. You wanted to get closer to find out but didn’t want to disrupt the peacefulness of their flight.
As if having heard your thoughts, one butterfly of a thousand landed on the hand which rested atop the balcony railing. Its legs held onto the flat surface of your index finger, so lightly that if you hadn’t been staring at it fluttering its wings at you, you wouldn’t have thought it was even there.
You didn’t want to move in fear that it would send the butterfly off sooner than you wanted. The Doctor, though, didn’t have the same worries as you. She oh so gently slipped her fingers between your palm and the railing, a silent request to lift your hand with her encouragement. You complied and allowed your hand, and thus the resting butterfly with it, to be brought within an inch of your eyes.
The closeness revealed a beautiful thing you otherwise might have missed. Its near-translucent wings spread in a dainty fashion, allowing the intricate patterns of intersecting lines that resembled the ethereal individuality of the snowflakes you saw on Earth to be seen. And with every motion of its wing, or antennae, or any part of that tiny but complex body, it twinkled.
“Glacius Lepidoptera,” The Doctor’s voice was quiet, tender. “Or, as this planet calls them, snow fairies.”
The Doctor raised your hand further towards the sky, and the butterfly, now content with your open acclaim, rejoined its colony. And from the corner of your eye, you saw that look. The one you cherished so deeply.
“The cold from the snow keeps their wings intact, but when spring comes, they can’t hold their shape. They have to move before it gets too warm,” So used to but always so interested in the Doctor’s explanatory narration, you didn’t draw your eyes from the magnificence before you. But you listened. You always listened. “Poor vision- makes for shoddy travel at night, but they’re excellent at thermal detection. Perfect at knowing the best time of year to migrate, just the right moment, which just so happens to be…”
The Doctor was ace at being able to time her words so perfectly. Like a flower facing the light for sustenance, she turned to the sun beginning its ascent. It kissed her skin with burning gold, but that golden brilliance distempered into a colorful array you hadn’t thought imaginable.
The sunlight, in a way that you could only describe as beautiful, and even that undersold the true splendor of the sight before you, touched the butterflies’ wings. It wasn’t an eruption– no that would be too abrasive a word to describe it– and it was no slow advancement. It was suddenly and simply there, softly unfurling over the village like the turn of a book’s pages.
The relative darkness the town was once immersed in blossomed into shimmering colors you hadn’t ever seen before. Shades of reds, purples, blues, pinks, greens, everything a rainbow might hold in its arches and then some– they all coated the streets and faces of those in them in a display of nature at its most perfect. With every flap of their tiny, delicate wings, the butterflies cast their kaleidoscopic radiance over you, and in that moment, you understood why the gift the Sun gave the snow fairy was named as such. There had been no other word to call it– there could never be, would never be.
So many times the Doctor had brought you somewhere like this, and so many times you found yourself in a similar state of total astonishment. But what fanned out in front of you, it was unlike anything you’d ever experienced…
As you bathed in the iridescence, so captivated by the gleam of the thousands of fluttering wings with the first rays of dawn, you felt something press against your chest, followed by the whisper of a touch to your face. You’d only caught a glimpse of the Doctor’s hands as they retreated behind you before feeling the distinct brush of her delicate fingers across the nape of your neck.
The shiver you’d once felt in the TARDIS had returned, and you knew that with the heat of her body so close to you, you couldn’t pretend that the cold had consumed you. Amid a silent prayer that she didn’t notice, you heard a light chuckle from her. Then her lips, so close to you, connected with the delicate skin she made work with.
It was a quick kiss, a chaste one that left as soon as you registered it had arrived. But even when her lips had gone, her fingers still remained, and you found the reason why from a quick glimpse of your chest.
The pressure you felt made itself known in the form of a series of interwoven silver curves that formed a distinct shape. The wings of the butterfly spread with an elegance you admired and were dotted with crystals the rainbows bounced off of. Every glimmer reflected in your eyes, and you so desperately wanted to see them reflected in hers.
You began to turn to her in appreciation, but one hand– one so close to your throat– held you still, the breath of the words, “Hold still for me, love,” coming from her mouth.
With only one option set before you, you found yourself standing completely and utterly motionless while she attached the clasp of the necklace together. You tried desperately to not move. Quickly, you found that it was a cruel request; how did she expect you to stay still while her fingertips grazed you with an unrelenting gentleness? Surely she must have known what she was doing, otherwise, why would she take such time for such a simple task? Surely, definitely, and without a doubt, she knew.
“It’s tradition here,” The Doctor kept her voice low. “To give your loved one a gift during the butterflies’ migration, when the first rainbows’ light appears–”
“Just like the story.”
Even you could hear the smile in your voice, and from the way the Doctor let out a soft laugh, she could hear it too. Sometimes, you thought you could listen to that sound forever on repeat.
“Yes, just like it. And just like the story,” The Doctor’s fingers fell away. “This gift is one of… a-affection.”
To admit to loving someone was something the Doctor fought to do, often allowing her doubts to overwhelm her need for triumph. You didn’t know her past, not in its entirety at least, and you wouldn’t ask it of her to tell you. You knew well enough that it was soaked in a kind of pain that you weren’t sure you could imagine let alone understand. Countless times you thought about the times the Doctor had been there before, but you didn’t have it in you to feel anything but grateful. Because moments like these, with the Doctor silently telling you everything she felt for you, were the ones that you cherished most.
It took some time for you to realize that the Doctor might not say she loved you– not explicitly, not now, but also that it didn’t matter. This was how she showed you; in all the moments of rainbow-streaked faces and admiring looks you could only see from the corner of your eye, she told you as much.
You faced her, baring your own love for her. And though you didn’t say it either– not explicitly, not now– you hoped your smile, the one that made the Doctor’s own ignite like a match with a bit of friction, was enough for her. Although… if it wasn’t, and perhaps it was the part of you that hoped for one earlier in the night, the kiss you pressed to her unsuspecting lips was.