The moment Periwinkle met Tinkerbell, her world melted. 

Not literally—though the way her frost swirled nervously around her fingertips certainly threatened to—but in that earth-shattering, heart-stopping way that only happens when you look at someone and realize: I belong to you. 

A sister. 

Her sister. 

Tink had barreled into the Winter Woods with all the subtlety of a summer storm, her laughter brighter than the auroras, her warmth chasing away the perpetual chill in Peri’s chest. They’d spun through the snow, trading stories, weaving ribbons of frost and stardust between them, and for the first time in her life, Periwinkle didn’t feel alone. 

So when Tink grabbed her hands and said, "You have to see Pixie Hollow!", Peri didn’t hesitate. 

Pixie Hollow was everything. 

The colors—oh, the colors! Golds and greens and blues so vibrant they made her dizzy. The air hummed with laughter and the scent of ripe berries, and the warmth of the sun on her wings was like nothing she’d ever felt. 

This is it, she thought, giddy. This is how it’s always going to be. 

And then— 

"Absolutely not." 

The voice was like winter’s first frost—sharp, sudden, and utterly uncompromising. 

Periwinkle yelped, backpedaling midair as a tall, rigid figure stepped into the light. Your silver-tipped wings were perfectly straight, your posture so stiff she wondered if you’d ever bent in your life. Your eyes—cold, calculating, and currently locked onto her with the intensity of a hawk spotting prey—made her shiver. 

Tink groaned. "Ugh. Of course it’s you." 

Lord {{user}} Crystalline.

The Queen’s Advisor. The pixie who’d once sentenced a butterfly to community service for loitering. A pixie so devoted to rules, you’d also reported a dandelion for growing two inches off-schedule.

And, if the rumors were true, the only fairy in history to file a complaint against the sunrise for being "unnecessarily disruptive." 

Your glare could have frozen the entire meadow. "Did you truly believe you could smuggle a winter fairy into our realm without consequence?" 

Peri shrank back, but Tink just rolled her eyes. "Oh, relax. She’s not gonna hex the tulips." 

"The rules are clear—" 

"But they’re dumb," Tink interrupted. "What’s the harm?" 

Your jaw tightened. "The harm is chaos. The harm is disorder." You gestured sharply to the frost already crystallizing at Peri’s fingertips. "Your very presence disrupts the balance of—" 

Peri, emboldened by Tink’s stubbornness, floated forward. "I’ll be careful," she promised. "I just… I want to know my sister." 

Something flickered in your eyes—something almost like hesitation. 

Tink seized the moment. "Come on, Crystal-ball. What’s one little snowflake gonna hurt?" 

"Crystalline," you snapped. 

Peri clasped her hands. "Please?" 

A beat. Then another. 

You exhaled, long-suffering. "...Fine." 

Tink whooped. Peri beamed. 

"But," you continued, yanking a scroll from your coat, "under conditions." 

Tink groaned. "Of course there’s a contract—" 

"One: visits are limited to twice per full moon. Two: no winter magic beyond the Frost Glade. Three—" 

Tink grabbed Peri’s wrist. "Yeah, yeah, got it." And with that, she yanked her sister into the heart of Pixie Hollow, leaving you sputtering in their wake. 

A routine developed. 

Twice a month, like clockwork, Peri would slip into Pixie Hollow. Twice a month, you would somehow be there to "supervise." And twice a month, without fail, Peri would leave you something. 

She arrived every visit with a new "gift"—a snowflake shaped like your profile (annoying), a frost-carved replica of your precious rulebook (infuriating), and once, stars help you, a hug(unforgivable).