#tagging tamlin because guess what? there are horses in the spring court!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thespianbooks · 4 years ago

Text

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 11//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks @df3ndyr @courtofjurdan @art-e-mis @herondamnn @the-third-me @im-still-trying-here @emikadreams @paytin77 @mis-lil-red @sleeping-and-books @lucieisabooknerd) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

Lucien's horse came to a halt as we approached the front steps of Tamlin's manor. He continued to stare at me, completely taken aback as Lucien and I drew closer. I was still stiff as I stared back at him, my skin crawling with unwelcome nerves as we got closer and my breath caught in my throat as we stopped.

"Feyre?" Tamlin breathed, confused.

I jolted in the saddle when Lucien touched my knee carefully, and I met his reassuring gaze before he easily helped me down. I took a minute to compose myself, chanting over and over again in my head that this was temporary. I could do this, I could face him alone—for my people and for my family. I sucked in a deep breath before turning back to Tamlin, whose gaze hardened from being initially bewildered by my unexpected arrival.

"What do you want?" He growled.

Lucien took a careful step in front of me, but I touched his shoulder gently and stepped forward instead.

"I came to talk to you about the summit meeting," I replied, holding my head up high.

"I got your letter."

"I know, but I'm here to persuade you to come this year."

"No."

I frowned, "Tamlin, I-"

"I don't know what kind of trick you're trying to play at Feyre, but I'm not falling for it this time," he snapped.

"I'm not here to trick you, Tamlin, I only came to talk." I pressed.

"Now you want to talk?!" He snarled.

I flinched at his outburst and hated myself for it. As High Lady of the Night Court, Tamlin would not get the best of me, I couldn't allow any weakness to show. Still, I flinched, my stomach fluttering anxiously and before I could help it my hand instinctively flew to shield my swollen abdomen—hidden beneath the loose cream sweater I wore. I saw Tamlin's eyes follow my movement, and before I could move my hand away his eyes widened in realization.

I hesitated as he continued to stare, perturbed by my condition. I noticed the connections he was trying to make in his mind, his eyes searching at this revelation and how it might've led me here—back in his court.

I glanced at Lucien, who squared his shoulders and turned to Tamlin, "Just hear her out Tamlin." He said.

Tamlin didn't respond, continuing to stare at my stomach. I shifted on my feet, trying to think of what to say—of what I could say.

"This isn't why I wanted you to come to the summit, Tamlin. You haven't been a part of our alliance for a decade, and honestly you should be." His eyes finally met mine as I continued.

"You once asked Rhys if I could ever forgive you, and for a long time...I didn't think I could. But we're all on the same side now."

"Are we?" He asked, his eyes still as cold as his tone.

"We wouldn't invite you every year if we weren't at least trying, Tamlin. It was Rhysand's idea to send Tarquin's armies to help rebuild your borders," I tried to reason.

"Something I could've done on my own if you hadn't destroyed them." He snapped, temper flaring again.

"I didn't destroy your borders, Tamlin." I said cautiously.

"You played a pretty profound role in it."

"I didn't come here to point fingers!" I snapped back, but winced from the effort, my head starting to spin again.

Lucien reached to steady me in place, "Why don't we go inside?" He asked.

"No," I answered quickly before the dizziness dispelled. I sighed, "Look, what happened with the war with Hybern, and everything before...is in the past. I didn't think I could forgive you, but right now, more than anything, all I want is peace. For my child, and for all of us. I'm having a baby, and all I want for him is to inherit our throne with strong allies in all courts."

Tamlin glanced at my stomach again, his face still dark and skeptical as he returned his gaze to mine. "Why the emergency summit?" he asked.

I chewed on my lip thoughtfully. I couldn't tell him of the threat the Night Court faced, it was too risky. He had to be present with the others before Rhys and I revealed the coup.

"All I can say is that there's important news to be shared; news that could affect all of Prythian and the Mortal Lands," I said, glancing over at Lucien.

Lucien nodded, "I'll talk with Jurian and Vassa, but I'm sure there won't be any issue."

I looked back at Tamlin. "At least think about it. That's all I ask," I said.

He squared his shoulders, leveling a look at me. "Is that it?"

I paused and cast a glance at Lucien again, whose eyes met mine at the same time. "What do you say Tamlin?" He asked.

"I say I want you to remove the High Lady of the Night Court from here," came his cold reply, a bit mocking as he addressed me by my title.

I darkened, "Lucien isn't your emissary anymore, he doesn't obey you. Your years of sitting down here in solitude have more than proved that."

"I'm only in this solitude thanks to you. Do you know how long it took me to regain the trust of my people, and now that I have it you show up here unannounced claiming a truce? And I'm supposed to believe it just because you're pregnant?"

"The only person you have to blame for the misgivings in your court is yourself, Tamlin." I threw my arms up in the air exasperatedly, letting them drop by my sides. "If you don't want to believe me, fine. I came here to at least try and include you. You've been excluding yourself for over a decade, and I thought maybe things could change, but I won't beg you."

He turned away after my speech, unable to look at me as he muttered "Get out."

I shook my head incredulously before turning on my heel and storming down the driveway, or at least with as much vigor as I could muster. It hadn't been a full hour since I arrived, and without my full strength back I wasn't confident I would be able to winnow back to Velaris.

"Feyre, wait." Lucien interjected before I could reach the end of the driveway. "You can't winnow back yet, you don't have the stamina."

I turned back to face him, "I'll be fine."

"No, you won't." He turned an imploring look back at Tamlin, "I can't winnow her back, my powers only allow me to winnow in short bursts. And I'm guessing you came here under wraps?" He asked, turning his attention back to me.

"Lucien, no." I started, realizing what he was implying. "If I can't winnow myself back, I'll call on Rhys."

"You are not bringing Rhysand back into my court," Tamlin snarled.

"She has to get home somehow, Tamlin." Lucien argued.

"You can take her back."

"I can't. Winnowing that many times is dangerous on a pregnant female."

Suddenly, breathing became difficult as the two continued to argue back and forth. If Tamlin wouldn't allow Rhys back on his territory, then I wouldn't be able to call him through our bond in order to winnow us both back home. I was too weak to winnow myself even a mile away from here, and Lucien was right. Too many trips would endanger the baby's life.

I was trapped.

Trapped.Trapped.Trapped.

Just like before, when Tamlin locked me in his manor.

No, not like before. This isn't like before.

I slipped my eyes shut again, turning away from them as I focused on leveling my breaths. I felt my dark powers beginning to edge around the corners of my mind, my thoughts racing in a frenzy as my nerves screamed and begged to be released from this cage, but I allowed my breaths to welcome a glow—the warm and soft glow I'd inherited from Helion. It was weaker, only able to illuminate the inside of my mind and skin, but I allowed the warmth in as my breathing finally evened out. I touched my abdomen gently as it fluttered lightly.

We're safe.

My son and I were safe, but deep down I knew thing's weren't completely settled. My sole purpose in returning to the Spring Court was to convince Tamlin to attend the summit. So far, I had failed miserably. It seemed my sudden appearance was only stirring more distrust when all I was trying to do was build it. I wanted nothing but Tamlin's promise that he would attend, I couldn't leave now—so, I had to keep trying.

By the time I opened my eyes, Tamlin and Lucien's astonished eyes were on me. Though subtle, I guessed they could see the subtle glow on my skin as I grounded myself. The effort it took, however, was starting to make me feel lightheaded and I took a careful step in Tamlin's direction.

"Please," was all I could muster as I stumbled forward. Lucien caught me in his arms before I could fall to the ground, but I kept my eyes on Tamlin.

"Please help, Tamlin...not just to get me home, but at the summit. Please, just...show up, even if you never come to another summit meeting again. It would-" I swallowed as a dizzying spell started to envelope me. "I-It would mean more to me...than you realize."

As I managed to breathe out the last of my sentence, the world around me faded from light to dark—in the midst of it I could hear Lucien's muffled voice presumably calling my name and Tamlin's form getting closer to us before a wave of darkness overtook us completely.

I cringed as a high-pitched whine sounded in my ears, but it soon disappeared and I opened my eyes to familiar surroundings. I was disoriented at first as I started to recognize the gossamer drapes blowing in the wind and the hall of moon-stone pillars.

"Feyre!" came Mor's panicked voice, followed by the sounds of her shoes hitting the marble floors as she approached.

As I turned to her, I realized I was in the palace above the Court of Nightmares and in the seconds before Mor rushed to my side I became aware of the fact that Lucien and Tamlin were standing beside me. Lucien was still holding me upright, but Mor quickly shoved him away and took his place.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" She yelled at Lucien, and turned threatening eyes to Tamlin. "And what in the gods-damned name is he doing here?"

"Feyre came to my court. I just brought her back," Tamlin all but snarled in reply.

"She was too weak to winnow herself back," Lucien added quickly.

"Do you have any idea what Rhysand will do when he finds out you were anywhere near her?" She growled at Tamlin, ignoring Lucien altogether.

"Mor, please." I said, finally having the clarity to speak.

Tamlin had actually winnowed us back, regardless of what he believed it might cost him. Maybe I had gotten through to him after all.

Mor turned me to face her, giving me a once-over with terror-stricken eyes. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Is the-"

"She's just fine Mor," came Rhysand's smooth voice.

I turned at the sound, unable to help the relief that flooded through me as he walked through the entranceway of the palace—Cassian and Azriel flanking his sides, their shoulders tight and jaws taught as they took in Tamlin's presence. I moved from Mor's embrace and made towards his direction, but I overestimated my renewed strength and my knees buckled. Mor gasped as the males in the room stiffened—except for Rhys, who caught me easily in his arms and swept me off my feet. He brought me over to the settee in the middle of the room and set me down carefully, dropping to one knee in front of me.

Are you alright? He asked down the bond, a hand coming to my abdomen as if to check on the baby.

Perfectly, fine. I promise. I reassured him, resting a hand atop his.

Those beautiful violet eyes silently studied mine for a moment before he stood, turning to face Tamlin and Lucien. "Thank you for bringing Feyre back," Rhys said calmly.

"You're thanking them?" Mor asked incredulously.

"Sometimes, cousin, I think you jump to conclusions," Rhys simply replied.

Cassian, who had relaxed a bit upon seeing Rhys's unmoved demeanor, snorted from his and Azriel's spot beside her, "Sometimes?"

Mor threw him a deathly glare, but before she could open her mouth to retort, Lucien spoke up.

"Feyre came to the Spring Court to talk to Tamlin. She said she wanted him, that you both wanted him, to attend this year's summit meeting," he began, looking at Rhys as he explained.

"She was too weak to winnow back, and I knew my attempts would endanger the youngling she's carrying."

Mor stiffened at the word. "She told us she was pregnant," Lucien added quickly. "When Feyre started to feel faint, Tamlin winnowed us both here."

All eyes turned to Tamlin, who had kept his proud and tall stance a good distance away at Lucien's side. Rhys hadn't taken his eyes off the male since he thanked him, and I began to worry when another minute passed after Lucien's statement.

Finally, Rhys cleared his throat. "Will you be attending then?" He asked Tamlin.

Tamlin's green eyes were as hard as stone as he matched Rhys's own gaze. He stiffly nodded, glancing at me briefly. "I'll go this time, but I make no promises to attend again."

I watched as amethyst and emerald hardened, faces unyielding in a silent exchange between males. I couldn't help the image being captured in my mind and how I would try to recreate it on canvas later. Amethyst vs. emerald I would call the painting.

Rhys, unblinking, simply nodded his head in acknowledgement before Tamlin tore his gaze away and towards Lucien. "Are you coming?" he asked.

Lucien hesitated, glancing in my direction as he undoubtedly thought of Elain. Turning his eyes from me and briefly at Azriel, his face darkened marginally before he shook it away and finally turned back to Tamlin with a nod.

Tamlin simply stepped beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder before they both winnowed away without another word. Mor finally relaxed with a sigh and turned to face me.

"What were you thinking going over there like that, Feyre?" She implored pleadingly.

"I was thinking about what was best for my people, for you—all of you." I replied, making it a point to meet Cassian and Azriel's equal unapproving gaze.

"You could've asked one of us to go with you, Feyre. That was a risky move, for you and for the baby," Cassian argued.

"It was something I had to do alone, and as your High Lady I don't have to explain it further than that," I snapped a little too fiercely.

The three of them exchanged frowns and I sighed heavily, "Look, I'm sorry I pulled rank like that, but this was important. As strained as things are with Tamlin, we might need him for this fight. He proved useful during the war with Hybern, and if Beron has truly allied with Keir and added to his numbers, we need all the help we can get—even if we don't like it."

They eased, unable to really argue. They knew I was right, despite their reluctance, and I was glad that they at least understood now.

"You were right to go, Feyre." Rhys said, kneeling before me again. "I'm just relieved that you're alright. That you're both alright," he emphasized, touching my stomach again as it fluttered spontaneously.

My eyes softened as I met his, cupping his cheek gently before we both stared at his hand on my abdomen. I hardly noticed when Mor, Cassian and Azriel quietly dismissed themselves during our silent interaction; Rhys continued to stroke the gentle swell of my stomach gently.

Are you mad? I asked through the bond, unable to trust my voice.

Rhys raised his head, "Why would I be mad?" he asked aloud.

"I didn't tell you I was going. I didn't tell anyone," I said.

He smirked wryly, "I already knew."

I balked at him. "You knew I was going to the Spring Court?"

He came up to sit beside me on the settee, his hand never moving from my stomach. "Well, I didn't know that, but I knew you had something planned," he amended. "You folded far too easily yesterday after I said it wasn't a good idea."

"And you didn't try to talk me out of it?" I asked.

"Of course not," Rhys brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I know how insufferable my male-bonded instincts have been lately, and as promised, I won't let them stifle you again."

I smiled and leaned into his touch. "Thank you, for trusting me."

"Always, Feyre darling," He smirked before capturing my lips in a quick kiss.

I sighed tiredly into the kiss, relishing in his touch but my body still too drained to envelope him in return.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he pulled away.

"I'm okay, just tired. The trip was a little more draining than I expected, I think the farther away I winnow the greater the effect," I explained.

His brow furrowed in concern, "We'll stay here for the night then, longer if you need more time to recover. Once Thesan responds to our letter, I'll request a room for us to stay in for as long as you'll need for the summit too."

I nodded, "I'm sure he'll be getting the same request from Kallias, unless Viviane stays behind."

Rhys snorted, "If his instincts are anywhere near the same as mine, he won't be leaving Viviane's side anytime soon—especially with her being further along than you are."

I frowned, "Do you think it'll be safe for her to travel? If it's this much of a strain on me, then I can't imagine how it must be for her."

"We'll find out. If anything, we'll request moving the meeting to the Winter Court instead. That way we can all be present, and all pregnant females involved will be safe." Rhys suggested.

I sighed, leaning against him. I couldn't fight the burning in my eyes as the reality of our situation settled over me. Since finding out about the coup weeks ago, I no longer felt peace. I longed for that peace—the elation we felt after finding out I was pregnant. For a while, everything felt right. Now it was convoluted with threats of war and resentment from other courts—our own court.

"Feyre?" Rhys asked gently as I stifled a sob with a sniffle.

"It's not fair," I choked out.

I let out a full-blown sob when he turned to face me again, wiping at my eyes in frustration. "What's not?" He urged tenderly.

"All of this," I gestured to the room wildly with another sob. "This is supposed to be the happiest time in our lives. We're having a baby, and instead of making plans for the nursery or picking out names, or clothes-" I hiccuped, angry with myself as I cursed my damned hormones. "We're supposed to be planning for our son's arrival, and instead we're planning an emergency summit and pleading for allies because our own people are trying to kill us-" I couldn't help another sob as I finally dissolved into tears.

Rhys pulled me close, holding me and allowing me this time to cry—to mourn the joy we were being robbed of. This was the first time in weeks I had allowed myself to really react to the news of the coup; to give in to my fears for a minute. Despite how much I hated how vulnerable I felt, I needed this moment, and Rhys held me the whole time.

I lost track of the minutes, burying my face in Rhys's shoulder when he scooped me up in his arms. I hadn't realized he brought us to my old room until moments later when I finally started to calm. We were on my old plush and extravagant bed, with Rhys holding me on his lap and his nose gently buried in my hair as I cried. Once the sobs ceased and a sense of relief in my chest lifted the weight from my shoulders, I raised my head slowly. I silently sniffed as I met Rhys's empathetic expression.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice still thick from my tears.

"Don't apologize, Feyre. You're absolutely right; we're dealing with something we shouldn't have to be—especially now," he said, his hand finding its favorite spot on my abdomen.

"But this is still a joyous time for us. We've been dealt an unexpected circumstance, but we're still going to have a baby. We'll deal with this coup, and we'll survive; our son will be born." He fiercely reassured, brushing a thumb along my cheek.

I sniffed, trying not to burst into a new round of tears and he trembled with a laugh, "I can't imagine the amount of hormones surging through you right now, my love."

I laughed wetly and hit his shoulder, "It's not funny!" I exclaimed tearfully. "There are times when I can't control my emotions, it's horrible."

"I know," he laughed again, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead and I was able to calm myself without the need of new tears.

I sighed, spent. "Thank you...I know you're right. No matter what, everything will work out—somehow. I just hate how much it's taken away from the baby, even if he isn't here yet." I said, looking down at his hand perched on the swell of my stomach.

"Don't worry," Rhys said, giving it another stroke. "We still have plenty of time to prepare for his arrival. In the meantime, before the summit and while we're here, we'll focus on him."

I let out a deep breath and nodded in agreement. "I'd like that."

"How about we start with his name? I've had a couple of ideas," he grinned mischievously.

"We're not naming him Rhysand Jr."

Rhys gasped in mock-exaggeration. "How can my mate not want to name our own son after his father?"

I laughed, "Because our son needs his own name."

"I suppose, but I say we wait to officially name him once he's born. Then we can make sure whatever name we choose suits him," Rhys amended.

I draped my arms over his shoulders with a smile, "I can live with that."

37 notes · View notes

missarcheron · 7 years ago

Text

A Tale of Nymphs II

Here’s the link to Chapter One. @illyrianinterrasen, @bunniesandbooks and @booksfullofme, I’ve tagged you because of your nice comments! (If you want me to untag you, just message me:) ) I hope you all enjoy this! Also check out my brand new “Writing” page on my blog for more stories:)

Chapter Two: The Chase

“And this”, Nesta says, an evil grin playing on her lips, “is how I knocked that idiot out.�� She makes a complicated movement with her sword, whirls around, and brings it down onto the dummy that immediately catches fire.

Feyre laughs silently. “You did not burn Cassian, Nesta. Tell the story the right way.”

“Yeah.” Cassian, who is standing next to Elain and has watched the current performance with growing displeasure, crosses his arms and glares at Nesta. “Please do.”

Feyre and Nesta are visiting them from the Night Court, where Nesta currently lives to learn more about their fighting techniques. They brought along Cassian and Azriel, two close friends to Rhysand. Azriel is not talking much, but from the darkness swirling around his hands, Elain deducts that he must be like Feyre- a nymph of the night.

“Daughter, please.” Their mother, who has been watching, stands up. “Let this not become too wild.”

“It’s too late for that”, Nesta grins. “I think Cassian wants a rematch now?”

Cassian smiles broadly. “You bet I do.” Before anyone can stop them, they’ve engaged in a wild fight of clashing swords and occasional fire eruptions.

Elain turns to Feyre; she is laughing with Azriel, both of them highly amused about something. Anyone can see they belong to the same court: They are dressed in royal, dark- blue clothes, the glitter of stars in their eyes.

Elain loves it when her sisters come visit, but she feels even more alone knowing that they have their own lives now, away from her. She wishes she could turn the time back- back to when they were little, playing in the ocean, Feyre making the stars descend down front the firmament and light up the whole water. But those days are over now. Nesta and Feyre are moving on with their lives, finding their destinies, following their dreams.

Her mother comes to stand beside her. “Do not despair, Elain”, she says gently, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I know it is hard with your sisters gone.”

“Yes.” Elain stares down at her feet, already surrounded by small roses that sprout out of the earth. “I wonder if I will ever belong somewhere like they do.”

“You belong here. Into the realm of spring. This season is your home.”

I’m not sure about that, Elain wants to say. Yes, flowers bloom where she goes and life follows her path, but spring is a hollow word to her. As if not the nature itself answered to her powers, but something…else. How will she ever explain that to her mother?

“I guess”, she mumbles instead.

“You are troubled”, her mother says quietly, worry in her voice. “Tell me if you need something.”

“It’s okay.” Elain turns away. “I think I will walk through my gardens a bit.”

Her mother smiles. “That’s a good idea.”

But when Elain walks towards the park attached to the Spring Palace, she already knows that she will not visit her gardens.

She will go back to the winter lands.

“A break, my friends”, Tamlin growls. “Please. I cannot go on any further than this.”

Lucien stops his horse and holds up a hand as a signal to his men. “Andras, Tamlin and I will take a break”, he calls out. “Resume the search without us.”

“Thank you”, Tamlin grumbles while descending from his horse. “It would so much easier if to ride if I actually had- you know”-

“A body”, Andras finishes.

Tamlin stares at his skeleton arm gloomily. “Yes. I don’t understand why this curse has hit me so hard.”

Lucien drives a hand through his hair. “I will find a cure. I promise.” But looking at Tamlin without worrying is difficult these days, when all he sees is a mere rotten corpse where there was once a strong warrior. Atop Tamlin’s head sits a dusty golden crown- the only thing still linking him to the powerful being he once was. He has pulled the crown out of the earth one day, when he was a young man. Like the root of a tree. They had all wondered if that meant his magical powers were about to manifest; but then, Lucien’s realm had begun its demise, and Tamlin was suddenly reduced to nothing but a few bones.

“Look at them”, Andras whispers. “The Dead.”

Lucien looks up. Not far from them, a familiar, slow line of mortals stumbles through the snow. Their clothes are ripped and their faces are grey and fallen. None of them speak. Some of them carry signs of sickness, others have heavy wounds. A lot of them are old.

They are on their way to the ancient lake of Dûren; the lake which works as the gateway between the living world and that of the Deceased. Lucien is supposed to be its keeper. Is supposed to help these humans on their last way before entering death. Is supposed to take away their fear, to help them with their last wishes, to absolve them of their sins.

But he cannot do that anymore. Not since the eternal winter has taken a hold of his realm. Not since his powers are gone.

So now he simply lets them walk through his realm until they reach the lake and doesn’t intervene- and he can barely bring himself to think about all the souls that will never know peace because of that.

Because of him.

He balls a fist. He must find the girl. If she can turn his dead world living again- maybe she can bring his powers back as well. Maybe she can help the human souls.

And yet- something, in the very back of his mind, whispers other things to him. You have been dreaming about her for different reasons entirely. And you know why.

Perhaps he does. But he needs to catch her first to prove that theory right.

Elain stares at the mighty oak tree in the middle of the cold meadow. Why can she not sense life anywhere? It is as if everything in these winter woods was…

“Dead”, she mumbles. “There is nothing here.”

She walks up to the tree to put her hand on the bark. As soon as she touches it, the whole meadow seems to spring to life; the treetop stretches out to all sides, little green leaves shooting out of the branches. Birds flutter towards the sky as if they had been frozen inside their nests and are finally freed.

Elain hastily pulls her hand away. If anyone’s around, this little display will certainly have alerted them. And she doesn’t want to get into any trouble. Her mother has warned her about these lands, after all- has told her that they are no place for a nymph of spring.

But something about these woods, this strange, frozen land makes her feel at home. Elain shouldn’t even be thinking that. But she can’t help it. She drops to her knees, presses both of her palms into the earth- there. She only faintly feels it, but it’s there…a gentle pulsing beneath the surface. Like a heartbeat.

This land is not dead. It is merely sleeping. As if something is missing, and it needs to be woken up.

“What happened here?”, she whispers. Perhaps if she actively tried to push her magic into the soil-

“LOOK!”

Elain shoots up. There- a group of soldiers at the meadow’s edge, armed to their teeth. They do not seem to be friendly. “It’s her!”, one of the men cries, and they draw their weapons as if they are about to launch an attack.

Elain turns around and runs. Obviously, whoever owns these woods does not like them being tampered with. She should have listened to her mother! Who knows what they want to do to her-

But she can tell that they are mere elves, and she is a nymph gifted with magic. They will never outrun her. Elain calls to the winds while her braids come undone and her dress changes from a bright red to a light green that matches the blooming trees all around her. A stag suddenly springs over a fallen tree and into her path, and she grabs his antlers to swing herself on his back. “Run!”, she yells. Already the shouts of the men grow smaller in the distance. But she doesn’t stop- who knows what else is lurking in these woods. So she keeps riding for a while, still completely out of breath.

What did they want from her?

“Fools!” Lucien can barely contain his anger. “You do not draw your weapons and run screaming towards a young woman when you meet her alone in the woods! What was she supposed to do but flee?”

“A marvelous thing!” Andras stares as the great oak before them. The roots are already covered in deep ice again, but the branches still carry delicate green leaves. “She must have great powers to do this!”

Lucien is still fuming. “You”, he growls towards the groups commander. “Did you get a look at her?”

The commander nods, intimidated by his Lord’s fury. “I did, Sir.”

“What did she look like?”

“She wore a red dress, my Lord, but it changed to green when she entered the woods and mounted her stag.”

“Her stag?”

“There was a stag, my Lord”, another soldier jumps in. “It looked like it carved itself out of a tree- it was not there, and then suddenly, it ran besides her!”

Tamlin and Lucien exchange a glance. (Or at least, Tamlin’s corpse turns into Lucien’s general direction.) “It is her”, Lucien mumbles. “Tell me more. Did you see her face?”

“Yes, yes”- the commander stammers.

“So?”

“She was beautiful, my Lord”, the soldier says. “I can’t describe it properly. She did not look like any being I have ever seen.”

“Great powers connected to the elements…beauty…she must be a nymph”, Tamlin murmurs.

Lucien turns away from his men to look at the spot in the woods where she must have disappeared. A nymph. He suspected as much. He knows their kind well…those water nymphs from the nearby river tend to slip into his bed from time to time.

He sets his jaw. She can’t be that far.

Elain allows the stag to slow down after what feels like an eternity and dismounts. Where on earth is she? The woods look all the same to her, and the fact that night is fast approaching does not help. She curses the trail she is leaving behind- wherever her stag has touched the earth, a single tulip has grown. They are pretty, she must admit that, but it will make things way too easy for those men hunting her.

She yawns. The day has been too long already- perhaps she should find some safe shelter and try to make her way back in the morning. If only there was some way to control her powers properly, to keep those flowers from appearing…

After some searching, Elain finds a little cave at the side of a frozen stream. If she creeps far enough inside, no one will find her, she hopes. She grows herself a soft cover of grass to sleep on and crawls onto her make-shift bed, hugging her legs to her chest. Before she knows it, sleep has claimed her, and she is dreaming…

“She must be somewhere here!”

Elain startles, ripped out of her sleep. The sun is shining into her cave- it must be early morning- and one glance shows her why those men have managed to track her down again. The frozen stream has turned into bubbling, living water and the entrance of her cave is surrounded by ivy leaves. The ceiling rumbles- the men have to be right above her. If she wants to escape, she must do so now. Elain tip-toes to the entrance and glances outside. Right into the face of a soldier.

“There she is!”, he yells, and Elain throws herself into the water without thinking twice. As all nymphs, she is naturally drawn to the pure elements, but she is no river nymph, and will never swim as fast as she can run. She hears that the men jump in the stream as well, but she doesn’t turn around- she can’t waste any time. When she reaches the other riverside, her wet clothes clinging to her body, she is breathing hard. She hasn’t eaten anything for a day now. She has barely slept a few hours. What can she ever do in this weak state?

“Feyre”, she mumbles. Her sister is one of the most powerful beings she knows. If anyone can help right now, it’s her. Elain murmurs her words into the west wind- help me, sister, I am being hunted-

But who know if this message will ever reach her? Elain decides she will have to save herself. She clenches her teeth together as she climbs up the hill that lays on this side of the stream and breaks into another sprint when she reaches the top. Where is the stag from yesterday? How has she made him appear back then?

She looks back over her shoulder to see where the soldiers are. She will not be able to keep going like this for long. Already the world turns blurry in her vision. Then a sudden tree branch surprises her, and Elain tumbles down into the snow, hitting her knees. An instant pain shoots through her legs- are her knees bleeding? When she raises herself onto her arms, she sees that where the faint line of blood running down her skin has stained the snow, little roses are emerging. How is that supposed to help her now? Should she try throwing flowers at her hunters to stop them?

She barely manages to stand up and can just so keep herself from falling to the ground again. She’s weak, and tired, and she can’t run anymore. She stumbles another step-

And falls into two strong arms. “Don’t worry”, a deep, male voice hums. Elain raises her head. A man is staring down at her. A tall, muscled man, with red long hair and a black patch over his left eye. “You’re safe with me”, he says. Elain tries to straighten, but her legs won’t obey. The world is blurry again. “I know you”, she manages to mumble. Does the man’s eye widen in shock, or is she imagining things? She has no time to find out- her limbs sink into themselves and she drops against his broad chest.

Then there is nothing.

56 notes · View notes