A Court of Readers and Dreamers
Chapter 12: House Call
The next morning had all of us groaning when we finally gathered together in the dinning room for a late brunch. We all crowded at one end of the table, well it was really only me who had changed position as I had moved the farthest away from the doors as I could. Lucien was massaging his temples as I rested my forehead against the cold wood, it appeared that both of us were hung over as Tamlin sat straight in his chair. He was drinking water for once, evidence of his own hangover despite his denial when I had commented on it when I first dragged myself in.
I looked up at Lucien across from me as I pinched my brows together, “And where did Mr.’save my human hide’ go last night?” I purposely pumped the over exaggerated accusation into my words as I lifted my heavy head from the table.
“On patrol, unlike some people who like frolicing with the moon spirits.” I sent a pointed stare at Lucien at the same time Tam did, “With a little bit of company.” He was too snobby about it for my liking as I leaned back in the chair.
“Cauldron spare any poor female who has to share a night with you.” I groaned at him as I nibbled at a slice of coffee cake and sipped at some sweet tea that had found its way to me. He gave me an offended gasp with a hand drawn to his chest before he fell into a twisted grin.
“Rumor says Tam had to carry in a poor female mortal last night.” His eyebrow curled insufferably and I flicked a piece of hardened sugar at him, his hand swatting the air to deflect it.
“You try being a mortal drunk on two cups of solstice wine, though if you don’t enjoy the feeling of your skull being an anvil I wouldn’t suggest it.” He huffed at me as a slice of strawberry landed on my forehead. I peeled it away and glared at him, prepared to throw it back at him.
“Children, children, please not another food fight.” Tamlin interjected and I looked at him. He had been following my movements all morning as me and Lucien bickered at each other.
Lucien cleared his throat before straightening up, intent on saying something serious. “My contact in Winter Court sent me a letter this morning, Tamlin,” A damper on the energy as Lucien's face drew tight and his face lost the laughing warmth, “The blight took 2 dozen of their younglings, gone.” The cake in my mouth became ashen and where it sat in my stomach became rancid as my stomach roiled. “Burned through their magic, then broke apart their minds. No one in the Winter Court could do anything—no one could stop it once it turned its attention toward them. Their grief is … unfathomable. My contact says other courts are being hit hard—though the Night Court, of course, manages to remain unscathed. But the blight seems to be sending its wickedness this way—farther south with every attack.”
We sat in heavy silence, none of us reaching for food or drink as we reckoned with the devastation. It was obvious Rhysand was tied to the slaughter, or at least knew of it. My hand was shaky as I reached toward Tamlin’s hand, the fingernails elongated and sharpened into claws where the tips just barely dug into the polished wood. I was just barely soothing the back of his hand before the claws tightened, digging into the wood and Tamlin was growling as his head bobbed higher, detecting something.
Silence echoed through the manor, unnatural as I had become used to the soft bustling of servants and birds that hung around the balconies. It was wrong as Lucien drew a short sword he must have taken with him on patrol as Tamlin’s canines were elongeated a gleaming with saliva.
“Get Feyre to the window -- by the curtains.” The command was stone as Lucien and I both rose from the table quickly, him pushing me against the wall, pinning me in the drapery as he leaned back into me as though willing me to flatten into paper and melt into the wall. The smallest twinge of smoking cedar pushed with him and I knew I was glammored from view. Tamlin stared at the open doors as Lucien's hand tightened on the hilt, knuckles going white as I wiggled against his back. Tam still sat in his chair, slouching to appear casual for just a moment before casual clicks of hard soled shoes echoed from down the call.
Rhysand appeared at the doors and I stopped wiggling as I stared at him. It wasn’t the same as Calanmai, now he held a mask as he strode into the room as though it was his own home. He stopped a few yards from Tamlin, feline and self assured as he surveyed the room, where Lucien was pretending to gaze out the window.
“High Lord,”he crooned, inclining his head slightly. Not a bow, never a bow. Tamlin stayed in his seat as he looked up at Rhysand, pretending the presence wasn’t causing those claws to remain razor sharp as he cleaned them with a paring knife.
“What do you want, Rhysand?” Tamlin was short in his words, seething it like a viper
Rhysand smiled and I knew he was the real snake, a constrictor already wrapped around its prey as put a hand on his chest. “Rhysand? Come now, Tamlin. I don’t see you for forty-nine years, and you start calling me Rhysand? Only my prisoners and my enemies call me that.” His grin widened as he finished, and something I felt the tension squeeze. Lucien pressed me harder that would surely bruise my ribs against the stone of the wall as Rhysand turned, evaluating Lucien as prey.
“A fox mask. Appropriate for you, Lucien.”
“Go to Hell, Rhys,” Lucien snapped.
“Always a pleasure dealing with the rabble,” Rhysand said, and faced Tamlin again. I struggled to breath against the wall but just barely kept from wheezing out each breath.
“I hope I wasn’t interrupting.”
“We were in the middle of lunch,” Tamlin said—his voice void of the warmth to which I’d become accustomed. The voice of the High Lord, but it was weaker than the other High Lord in the room.
“Stimulating,” Rhysand purred.
“What are you doing here, Rhys?” Tamlin demanded, still in his seat.
“I wanted to check up on you. I wanted to see how you were faring. If you got my little present.”
“Your present was unnecessary.”
“But a nice reminder of the fun days, wasn’t it?” Rhysand clicked his tongue and surveyed the room. “Almost half a century holed up in a country estate. I don’t know how you managed it. But,” he said, facing Tamlin again, “you’re such a stubborn bastard that this must have seemed like a paradise compared to Under the Mountain. I suppose it is. I’m surprised, though: forty-nine years, and no attempts to save yourself or your lands. Even now that things are getting interesting again.”
“There’s nothing to be done,” conceded Tamlin, his voice low. Rhysand approached Tamlin, and each twitch of muscle that guided him was measured. His voice dropped into a whisper, the same whisper of silk sheets dragging against each other.
“What a pity that you must endure the brunt of it, Tamlin—and an even greater pity that you’re so resigned to your fate. You might be stubborn, but this is pathetic. How different the High Lord is from the brutal war-band leader of centuries ago.”
Lucien interrupted, “What do you know about anything? You’re just Amarantha’s whore.”
“Her whore I might be, but not without my reasons.” Aching pain tightened my chest further as I resisted the urge to separate from Lucien and soothe the cutting edge of those words.
“At least I haven’t bided my time among the hedges and flowers while the world has gone to Hell.”
Lucien’s sword rose slightly and I pressed a hand against his back, he gained enough sense to lower the tip of the blade to rest against the floor again, “If you think that’s all I’ve been doing, you’ll soon learn otherwise.”
“Little Lucien. You certainly gave them something to talk about when you switched to Spring. Such a sad thing, to see your lovely mother in perpetual mourning over losing you.”
I dug a sharp nail into Lucien as he growled and the blade twisted, screeching against the marble floors it scratched. It kept that blade down and I was thankful.
A small sighing laugh as Rhysand shook his head slightly, looking towards Tamlin, “Shouldn’t you correct this behavior, its unbecoming of a High Lords Emissary to be so hostile to another court’s High Lord, don’t you agree?” Darkness rippled from him like the invert of heat waves and my eyes became entranced by the fluttering aura around him.
“I don’t enforce rank in my court,” Tamlin said.
“Still?” Rhysand crossed his arms. “But it’s so entertaining when they grovel. I suppose your father never bothered to show you.”
“This isn’t the Night Court,” Lucien hissed. “And you have no power here—so clear out. Amarantha’s bed is growing cold.” If my finger dug back into Lucien’s back he did not react. Anger boiled in me but I tried my best to sooth it as I finished the last touches on my mental shield, fashioned specifically for this meeting.
“I was slaughtering on the battlefield before you were even born,” Rhysand snarled, and he was drawing back as though he had just come to talk about the wonderful weather. “Besides,” his hands slid into the pockets of his pants, “who do you think taught your beloved Tamlin the finer aspects of swords and females? You can’t truly believe he learned everything in his father’s little war-camps.” I scrunch my nose, not quite pleased to hear about gore and sex as a small sweat was breaking at my hairline.
Tamlin rubbed his temples. “Save it for another time, Rhys. You’ll see me soon enough.”
Rhysand meandered toward the door, a neighbor dismissing themselves. “She’s already preparing for you. Given your current state, I think I can safely report that you’ve already been broken and will reconsider her offer.”
Lucien’s breath hitched as Rhysand passed the table. The High Lord of the Night Court ran a finger along the back of my chair. “I’m looking forward to seeing your face when you—” Rhysand’s eyebrows pinched just slightly as he studied the table, the extra plate with half-eaten cake on it. Lucien went stick-straight, pressing me harder against the wall.
“Where’s your guest?” Rhysand asked, lifting my goblet and sniffing it before setting it down again, the twinge of disgust on his face informed he did not find the sweet tea as appealing as I did.
“I sent them off when I sensed your arrival,” Tamlin lied coolly.
I felt the excitement at the same time I watched the movement of those shadows pick up. He sniffed the air as he turned and his eyes locked on Lucien, and it was excitement and small disbelief making his eyes glow.
“You dare glamor me?” he growled, his violet eyes burning as they bore into me and I knew he could see me now as Lucien just pressed me harder into the wall. Tamlin’s chair scratched the floor as it was shoved back. He rose, claws at the ready, deadlier than any of the knives strapped to him.
“I remember you,” he purred. I stepped out from behind Lucien even as his had gripped my arm and pulled me back towards him.
He turned to Tamlin. “Who, pray tell, is your guest?”
“My betrothed,” Lucien answered.
“Oh? Here I was, thinking you still mourned your commoner lover after all these centuries,” Rhysand said, stalking toward me. He was handsome even in his fury as I locked my eyes to his, keeping his gaze as he drew nearer. Dark pulsed from him and I clenched my hands to keep from reaching out to the sentient shadows.
Lucien spat at Rhysand’s feet and shoved his sword between us. Rhysand’s venom-coated smile grew. “You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.”
The color leached from Lucien’s face, but he held his ground. It was Tamlin who answered. “Put your sword down, Lucien.” I was already ripping my arm from his grasp and pushing down the blade, careful not to slice open my hand as I did so.
“I knew you liked to take filth for your lovers, but to stoop so low as to drabble with the human garbage.” Still I did not break my stare, as I set the last soft layer of metal shield. I had constructed my mind like a stone fruit, soft flesh of mind that I bared to him covered in the barest shield of skin, but the vital thoughts I guarded were at the center, hidden by that flesh in an dense sheild of iron and stone.
Rhysand had not paused as he approached me. “The Lady of the Autumn Court will be grieved indeed when she hears of her youngest son. If I were you, I’d keep your new pet well away from your father.”
“Leave Rhys,” Tamlin’s voice led itself to a command but it was no more than a puppy's bark to Rhysand as he paused a body length away from me. I put one foot forward, crossing it across the other as I bent at the waist and bowed formally. I did not have any fear as I straightened from my bow.
“At least someone in this court has manners, perhaps you should teach them to your fiancé.” He grinned down at me ,“If you were wise, you would be screaming and running from this place, from these people. It’s a wonder that you’re still here, actually.”
“My stay ran longer than anticipated, but it is a pleasure to put a name to a face, Rhys.” If he had any doubts they did not cross his face as wicked enjoyment crawled across his face like a spider.
Rhysand was about to speak but Tamlin was growling again, “Get out Rhysand, you have seconds.”
Rhysand clicked his tongue, “If I were you, I wouldn’t speak to me like that Little High Lord.” My body straightened like a rod was ran through every bone and muscle as I felt talons of a large hand scrape along the top most barrier of my mind. The skin of the fruit was sliced and I let small thoughts push out from them as glistening juice. Tastes of the night and towering trees hiding me as I rested during a hunt.
“Let her go,” Tamlin said, bristling, but didn’t advance forward. A kind of panic had entered his eyes, and he glanced from me to Rhysand. If I could reassure him I would, but I still stared back at Rhysand as I softened my eyes, “Enough.”
“I’d forgotten that human minds are as easy to shatter as eggshells,” Rhysand said. I felt one of the claws collect the leaking thoughts, tasting what I presented. “How delightful. You must have gotten a rare one Tam, unable to feel fear even as her mind is just shy of being obliterated.” He crooned at me as his hand wrapped around my throat, thumb tracing my pulse point. I pushed more thoughts out, this time the fear of heights as I strapped myself to a tree of the night, fear of nightmares that haunted me when I dreamed. “Oh it would be quick, I promise.”
“Amarantha will enjoy breaking her,” Rhysand observed to Tamlin. “Almost as much as she’ll enjoy watching you as she shatters her bit by bit.”
Tamlin was frozen, his arms hanging limply next to him, defeated. “Please” If he would just shut up and quit begging I could solve this, and perhaps I let a little too much irritation slip from me as Rhysand’s forehead rose just a bit.
“Please what?” Rhysand taunted as those claws traced swirling patterns into my mind, cutting more and more away and I left more and more thoughts pouring from it.
“Don’t tell Amarantha about her,” Tamlin said, and his voice cracked.
“And why not? As her whore,” he said with an accusatory glance tossed in Lucien’s direction, “I should tell her everything.” Tamlin pleaded again with short ‘please’s. Rhysand made him beg, a simpering mess as he pressed his foot into Tamlin’s head. Maybe I would have felt bad if I was not reminded of the slaughter of both of their families.
Those claws loosened from my mind and I gained control of my limbs again. I shook them lightly before I gave Rhysand a reprimanding smile, flickers of shock skipped over all of their faces as I rubbed at my head.
“It is quite rude to hold a Lady’s mind without asking first.” I pushed hair from my forehead that was leaking sweat. I reformed the shields into something easier to manage, a smooth wall of solid stone. The headache I had been dealing with since I rose from bed dissipated just a bit as my metal strain lessened. Disbelief and horror was across both Tamlin’s and Lucien’s faces as I smoothed out the violet tunic I had chosen this morning on purpose.
“A rare catch indeed, Tamlin.” Rhys grinned at me and behind the mask of cruelty I might have imagined amusement. “What’s your name, love? It is quite unfair that you have mine but I do not have yours.”
I did not let a heartbeat of indecision pass, “Emiline Jacobs.” I had the name on reserve for years, a young woman from The Children of Blessed that made a pastime of stealing from the elderly on market day. It wasn’t enough to condemn her to the death she would face but it was enough to know there wouldn’t be a house burned to ashes.
“Well, this was entertaining. The most fun I’ve had in ages, actually. I’m looking forward to seeing you three Under the Mountain. I’ll give Amarantha your regards.” He was curt as he nipped lint from the matte black tunic and winnowed. The air didn’t even move for a moment, the element afraid of shredding the last bit of Tamlin’s restraint. We were alone and that fractured each of us.
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The emergency
A good number of members within the Justice League have children. Not all of those kids are biological or adopted but they are their kids nonetheless. Some of those kids are even old enough to be adult heroes of their own, but even then they are still their kids. And the other kids tend to take up heroism at a very young age to most people's chagrin. Although as shown by the original child hero, now going by Nightwing, it’s not as easy as telling the kids to stop.
It was learned through intense hardship that smothering the child heroes was just asking for trouble. Despite how much the older heroes wanted to stay close to their kids, it was seen as overbearing and a show of mistrust. They would act out with even less backup in retaliation, which would only bring even more stress.
So to satisfy the need for protection without stepping on any toes, two new emergency meeting signals were introduced.
One was for the kids to send off. Each one was gifted a small device that could be hidden in their person. The device had both a mic and a tracking chip that could be activated when they were in extreme danger. As soon as the device was active a signal would be sent to the league for an emergency distress signal with the details of who sent it. Due to an outcry from the kids, the device could not be activated by the guardian of the child. The mic and locator could only be activated from the device itself. It wasn’t nearly as protective as some of the more worried leaguers would like, but it was at least something.
The second signal was one that the leaguer with a kid in danger could activate. This signal could be activated with a single code into the communicators that every member owned. If the member who sent out the signal didn’t specify what kid was in danger, every member would receive a generalized notification of the emergency alert for one of the kids. This wasn’t ideal, but it was learned early on that the guardian of the child was often too distressed to make the code more complicated. It was best to leave it simple and answer questions at the emergency meeting.
Which was great in all, until someone who doesn’t have a child involved with heroics in their care sends off a general emergency.
In places all over the globe, an emergency meeting signal message was sent by Hal Jordan, one of the lanterns. He didn’t include what child was in danger in the signal, meaning that it could be any of the underaged heroes. And considering he didn’t have a child in his care, that made multiple members panic.
When was the last time they checked in with the kids in their care? Who was the one he was sending the code for? What happened to the child he had noticed was in danger? Why is he the one that noticed? Where were their kids? Who was in danger?
Because of the nebulous nature of the call, it didn’t take long for multiple heroes to find the nearest transport to the watchtower and tumble in. What they didn’t expect was the absolute haggard appearance of their friend. He was standing in the meeting room looking like the world had been destroyed before his very eyes. The way he sat without even cracking a sarcastic remark made multiple members pause.
“Hal?” Wonder Woman called, her face pinched in concern. “What has happened?”
The aforementioned member looked over who had already arrived before settling on her face. It was at that moment she knew that he was only looking so collected through willpower alone. This wasn’t just any child of the league, this was personal.
“My nephew Danny has been captured,” He began, sending a wave of different emotions circling the room. “I’ve been trying to find where they took him for a week now and I can’t get any leads. I need your help.”
The unsaid questions and emotions were nearly palpable. Multiple members turned to one another or stared with a million questions. Nobody had known that Hal even had a nephew named Danny. Sure he mentioned someone named Jason at times, but he never indicated anything else. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned him or the fact that he’d been apparently searching for a week was strange.
“And why are you only telling us now? Why did you wait so long?” Superman asked, speaking up the question that was on multiple minds.
A fire of anger curled in Hal's eyes. It was fierce and protective. It was a mixture of appalment for being questioned on his decision and fury for the reasons why he had to do it in the first place. He stepped forward towards the center table, slamming his palms down and leaning into it.
“Because any person that goes against the group will be declared an enemy of the United States. I’ve already had my account and housing connected to Green Lantern seized,” He explained with a deceptively calm tone. “I also needed to make sure that they didn’t have any connections with the Justice League. They have their agents everywhere.”
Unsurprisingly, Batman appeared from the gathered heroes from seemingly nowhere. Despite the feud between the two of them, the Bat was completely zeroed in on the situation. While he had a decent amount of distrust in the lantern, mainly because of the parallax incident, he could tell that the man was genuine. And the Bat always did have a blind spot for children.
“Explain,” Was all Batman said, staring Hal down.
The lantern in question looked at him with a grim face. This was it. Now or never.
“They’re called the Ghost Investigation Ward, or GIW for short. They hunt down and either exterminate or experiment on anyone they deem ectocontaminated or a ghost,” Hal started to explain, his hand curling on the table in frustration. “My brother Jack faked his death and ran off to be with another woman. Those fucks deemed my nephew as ectocontaminated and tried to take him from his home. He ran from his family so that they couldn’t be arrested for knowingly harboring an ecto entity. Told me that he remembered my face from a photo his dad tried to hide in the attic and sought me out.”
If the fire in his eyes were any stronger, they would probably become physical and burn down the room. It was undeniable that Hal Jordan was understandably completely pissed off. This situation was terrible from down to the very root.
“I tried to hide him but they somehow found him anyway. Now my civilian name is being heavily monitored and Green Lantern is being hunted down,” He finished his explanation. “If you join me in this, be prepared to lose everything.”
This was so much worse than anyone could’ve predicted.
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Reverse trope
where instead of the Bats forgetting that they’re adopted (something actual adoptees do on occasion and is hilarious) they forget that some of them *cough Damian cough* aren’t
_______
Jason in the heat of a probably ridiculous argument: Yeah well YOU’RE adopted!
Tim just as invested in said argument: So are YOU! We all are!
Damian who had previously been quietly watching this unfold while he drank his tea: Actually I’m not
Tim and Jason who didn’t realize he was there but are already DoneTM: ……
Damian continuing to sip his tea entirely unbothered: :)
Damian: Because I’m not an orphan-
Jason: ok, yoU KNOW WHAT-
____
or like in their group texts (that we know they have thanks to Nightwing (2016) #79)
*Steph changed the group chat name to “Bruce Wayne’s Personal Orpanage”*
Jason: Really?
Steph: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Steph: It’s the truth
Damian: Both my parents are very much alive
Steph: Shhh you don’t count
Cass: Mine too
Duke: Technically so are mine
Barbara: I still have a dad so there’s that
Steph: YOU GUYS ARE RUINING THE JOKE
Tim: Stephanie aren’t BOTH of your parents alive???
Steph: KNOW WHAT? FINE
*Steph changed the group chat name to “The Technicality Police”*
Tim: well that’s more accurate at least
Steph: :)
_____
Damian in his 10th argument with Tim of the day: That’s- this is-
Tim in full Antagonizing Big Brother mode: I’m listening
Damian -a Gen Z and best friend to Jon Kent- extremely frustrated: This is such Motherless behavior!
Tim taken aback: [voice cracking] W-what-?
Damian who didn’t mean to say that but doubling down anyway because his bloodline doesn’t believe in admitting mistakes: THIS! This is such Motherless behavior!
The rest of the family who is also motherless: :O
Cass whose been spending way too much time with Meme Queen Stephanie Brown and not involved in the argument but finding it entertaining regardless: [nodding along seriously] Facts
Tim: [visibly betrayed] CASS WHAT-
A video copy of the interaction gets sent out anonymously to the entire family. Barbara is the prime suspect but there is no proof as of yet (and they will never find any)
Steph, Cass, and Duke continue to respond “Motherless behavior” everytime one of the bats does something they deem questionable/insane. It is said often
It only stops when one night in the middle of patrol. Batman is in full Dark Knight mode (possibly in the middle of threatening someone) and descends from the ceiling into the middle of a warehouse drug deal, dark cape billowing out behind him-
and Steph just automatically whispers “Motherless behavior” forgetting her com was still very much on
She immediately realizes what she said and frantically apologizes but it’s too late.
Bruce just- Blue Screens. Completely stunned into silence
Dick -who was unfortunate enough to be the one teamed up with Batman tonight- is fighting for his life to choke back his laughter
Jason doesn’t even try to stop his and has collapsed to his knees from lack of air from how hard he’s laughing. Cass try’s half heartedly patting his back to help to no avail
The criminals are terrified into surrender from The Red Hood just laughing hysterically at seemingly nothing while Batman just Stands There
Damian ends up being the only one still functioning enough to continue arresting everyone, though he is privately amused and strangely proud
Tim and Barbara have saved both the com recordings and cowl footage to at least three different servers and sent it to absolutely everyone before Batman even recovers
Duke finds out second hand the next morning and is furious he missed the chance to see it in person. He declares he is moving to the nightshift so it doesn’t happen again. (He is all talk and goes to bed by 9 pm)
Bruce bans the phrase for life and promises swift and server punishment to anyone who dares to use it again
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