#lyriel is a badass

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire & Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter 8

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

        It had been another sleepless night. He did not know how sleep could come easy to anyone after the events of the previous day. He was certain that Feyre would have been awake, fearing over whatever Rhysand wanted from her. He doubted that Lyriel had been able to sleep after he had kissed her, which he knew was the biggest mistake of his life. 

        Hell, he knew that Lucien and most of his guards had yet to sleep. He'd had them looking for any trace of Feyre all night. They had not come back yet. Not to his knowledge at the very least. They would know better than to come to him with bad news. Or no news at all.

        He sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the breakfast that had been laid out before him. He didn't care about it, about anything beyond the debates roaring in his head. He couldn't think about Lyriel, about how it felt when she was against him. He couldn't think of the way she had been on the verge of tears before they'd kissed.

        She wanted the best for him. That alone was enough to kill him.

        Feyre was the one who mattered to him. He would find a way to get her back. He would get her out of her deal. Then maybe he could explore whatever this was with Lyriel. Or maybe he and Feyre would work out whatever issues they had. He could be done with the Winter Court soldier and focus on who actually made him happy.

        She strode into the dining room. Her leather pants were back, hugging the curves that he had briefly thought about running his hands over. Briefly was perhaps the wrong word. It seemed as though the thought of her body pressed against his had been there from the moment she had slipped into his bed. 

        "Morning," Lyriel drawled as she took her seat across from him. 

        Tamlin tried to avoid her gaze. He didn't know how to act around her. What was he supposed to say in reference to their kiss?

        Lyriel didn't seem to notice his lack of attention. She slathered a piece of toast with butter and jam, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened the day before. Why did she have to behave this way? Didn't she know that he was reeling? That he needed to be told how horrid he was, that he needed to be out hunting for Feyre or for answers. Not sitting at breakfast with the woman who was supposed to be his mate.

        A warm sensation began in his stomach, slowly moving to envelop him fully. He knew it was her. She was trying to help him in the ways only she could. 

        "Lyriel," he nearly snarled, knowing that he didn't deserve the gentle feeling of comfort. Not from her at least. Not when he was doing all he could to ruin her. 

        "Yes, Tam?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief. He hated that it made him think of the way she had looked at him yesterday. When her eyes had been concerned, when she had been on the verge of crying over him. His chest ached, the warm feeling being replaced by the pain.

        "Whatever you're trying to do ... Knock it off."

        "I'm not doing anything," Lyriel savagely bit into her toast, flecks of jam finding a home just above her upper lip. Tamlin hated that he wanted to lick it off. "If anything, I'm just making sure you don't decide the dining table would look better as splinters. I'd prefer to enjoy my breakfast."

        He didn't know if his temper flared or not. A sound erupted from his lips. A mix of a scoff and a laugh. Something that he had not heard in a very long time. Why did she have to be the one that brought him comfort? Why did he feel as though he needed her by his side? It was the damned bond. He knew that he could reject it. Just three simple words that would leave them severed. He'd never have to see her again. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

        Life with Lyriel had been hell. She was brash, abrasive, and didn't know her place. She questioned him at every turn, pushing and shoving against everything he wanted. But Mother above he wouldn't have it any other way.

        He knew that he needed to get his priorities in order. She was not going to be the one he spent his life with. No matter how badly he wanted to.

        The fact that he even wanted to was enough to cause him to worry. He wasn't sure where that had come from. Perhaps he was losing it. Perhaps losing Feyre had meant losing everything he held dear. Including his sanity. He needed to talk to someone about this. But it wasn't like he could say anything to Lucien, he'd end up telling him to tell Feyre the truth. He didn't want to do that. He didn't want to break her heart and crush her spirit. Nor could he tell Ianthe. Not when she was already threatening him.

        "I take it you didn't sleep last night," Lyriel said as she looked at him. 

        "I won't be until Feyre is returned to us." 

        He could not tell if Lyriel's expression darkened or if it was a trick of the light. One second she looked nearly murderous and the next she was back to her usual, smug self. It was maddening trying to determine what she was or was not feeling. How was anyone supposed to do this? How was anyone supposed to understand her and what she wanted in her life? Tamlin certainly had no idea how she felt about any of this. Did she want him? Did she want to accept the bond and be with him until the end of time? Or did she wish to return to the home that she had known? He barely knew her. How was he supposed to read her?

        "Making yourself ill isn't going to help Feyre," she said softly. "All it's going to do is make you nearly impossible to be around. Besides, we all know there's no getting out of bargains. Otherwise, you would've found it by now."

        "I've barely scratched the surface."

        "You've been looking since you got back to the Spring Court," Lyriel pointed out. "Lucien told me as much. Honestly, you shouldn't beat yourself up so much. Rhysand might be a monster but he's not going to do anything to her. He's infatuated by her."

        Tamlin's fingers dug into his palm. What the hell did she mean by that? What did Rhysand have to be infatuated with? Feyre was his soon-to-be bride. There should have been nothing that made Rhysand think twice about her. Unless it was all some sort of horrid punishment for him. He wouldn't exactly put it past Rhysand to do anything of the sort. 

        "He might, just to spite me," he grunted as he glanced over at the white-haired woman.

        Lyriel gave him a gentle smile. "If he really wanted to spite you, I think he would figure out the truth about us first. If people were to find out the whole ... mate thing," he cringed as she said it, "they wouldn't exactly be happy about it."

        "And why is that?" 

        "Why would the High Lord of the Spring Court be mated to a Winter Court soldier? Truly, Tam, the whole thing is ridiculous. It's understandable why you'd go for the hero of Prythian instead. No one would fault you for that. But ... They might look at this whole thing like the Mother was playing some sort of cruel joke." Lyriel didn't look at him as she spoke. It was almost as though she didn't want to see the truth of her words. Tamlin knew it was ridiculous. But he had been thinking those same things from the moment they had met.

        He knew that he needed to get his head out of his ass. After all, Feyre should have been entitled to find her mate as well. It clearly wasn't going to be him. But that didn't mean anything.

        Mating bonds could be wrong. It had to be. He and Lyriel could barely be in the same room without her managing to get under his skin. The way she spoke made him want to rip a door off its hinges most of the time. 

        And yet, it felt as though she understood him. More than anyone he'd ever met. Had anyone ever tried to calm him before? Had anyone approached him when he was angry before? Had anyone ever seen him as anything other than a beast? Feyre had never calmed him, had never approached him when he looked like he was going to go mad with rage. Only Lyriel. He hated her for it.

        She should've run from him. She should have treated him like he was a monster. She shouldn't have shown him any sort of grace. There were thousands of things that Tamlin wished Lyriel had done. He wished that she had pushed him away instead of trying her damndest to do whatever it took to bring him joy. She had no right to do any of that. No right to think of his happiness.

        "I would rather keep talk of the Mother away from the breakfast table." He didn't need Ianthe overhearing the truth of the matter. It was bad enough that she thought something was going on between the pair.

        If Ianthe discovered that he was abandoning his mate ... He didn't know what she would do. Perhaps hang him from the highest tree by his balls.

        A shudder went through his spine at the mere thought.

        "We should do something today," Lyriel stated as she looked at him, a grin on her lips. She had yet to wipe off the jam. "Get your mind off of things."

        "What do you suggest?" One of his brows rose, despite the fact that he knew he could not give in. It wouldn't do to blow off any steam when Feyre could be being tortured.

        "Leave that to me. Just meet me in the gardens in half an hour." Lyriel wiped her mouth as she stood. He didn't like the wicked glint in her eyes, nor did he like how his heart seemed to speed up when she looked at him. 

        He watched as she strode out of the room. Lyriel acted as though she owned the Spring Court. It felt as though she was at home here, more than she had ever been in the Winter Court. He didn't know the story, he doubted that it was anything interesting. She was a soldier. Nothing more and nothing less. 

        And yet someone had thought they were each other's equal. Perfect for the other in every way. It was not the first time Tamlin questioned the validity of the bond, nor would it be the last. Why had a High Lord been paired with a soldier? It made no sense to him.

        He knew better than to deny her though. He could deal with a lot but he didn't want to deal with a pissed off Lyriel. Not when he already had to worry about everything else in the world. He had never thought that it would be quite so tiring to be a High Lord. Or at least dealing with his feelings for two different women.

        As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew that he had feelings for his mate. The kiss from the night before had remained in his thoughts until he had thought he was going to implode. How he was supposed to handle himself around her was beyond him. She probably knew what he was thinking which only made the whole damned thing worse. Tamlin wasn't sure what to do about the whole situation nor did he think he wanted to actually deal with it. Not for a very long time at least.

        He trudged back up to his room, ignoring the splinters of wood and the ruined portraits. He ignored how he had ruined his room, how he had turned his manor into a wreckage. It was worse in Feyre's room.

        He changed into clothes that had managed to escape the wrath of his claws the night before. The silk shirt fit him well, showcasing his muscular chest and the arms that seemed more beastly every day. What would happen if he just gave up? What if he just lived as the beast that resided underneath him? Would Lyriel still want to be there? Would she still sit with him and try to calm him? Or would she finally see what the rest of the courts did? A monster.

        Tamlin swallowed once, allowing the thoughts to linger in his mind as he pulled on breeches made of soft doeskin. He would not think of any of this once he was around Lyriel. She would more than likely stab him if she realized that he was thinking ill of himself. That or she would look at him with disappointment. He had no idea which was worse.

        He tried not to think of what her retaliation would look like as he headed down to the gardens. He didn't know what she planned for him. Nor was he certain he wanted to know. It was certainly going to be something that he didn't want to deal with. There was no telling with her.

        "I didn't think you'd show," she stepped out from behind a rosebush that looked as though it were about to grow wildly.

        She looked as though she was supposed to be there. The sunlight made her pale skin glow, her hair had been braided with a few roses tucked into the strands, and her eyes twinkled with the hope of adventure. 

        "I figured you would stab me," he admitted with a shrug. "What exactly are we doing out here?"

        "Despite how long I've been here, you've never given me a single tour," Lyriel stated as she looked at him. Her canines showed as she smiled. He wondered briefly what they would feel like against his skin. Mother above, he was a horrible person. His pleasure or his pain shouldn't have been at the forefront of his mind.

        No matter how Lyriel was trying to distract him.

        "I don't see how that's important," Tamlin sighed, fighting against the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't need a fight with her so early in the morning.

        "I've had plenty of time to explore on my own," Lyriel said, ignoring his interruption. "So, I've decided that I'm going to give you one. All the places that you've been too busy for. You're being reintroduced to your Court, My Lord." The bow she fell into was so mocking that he struggled to not look exasperated.

        "Lyriel, I don't have time for this." 

        "What else will you do? Mope around the manor for the next two weeks? Worry yourself into ill-health?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. He had never noticed the way they seemed to stand out in the sunlight, each small hair appearing almost silver in the blinding light.

        "I'll research how to end the bargain." 

        "And you won't find anything," she gave him a kind smile as she stepped closer to him. "Tam, you've got to let her save herself. I know that probably scares you, but she's stronger than you know." 

        He tensed at that. How could she possibly think bringing up Feyre and her captivity was a good idea? The worst part was the fact that he knew she was right. He'd watch Feyre save herself more than once. He knew exactly what kind of woman she was. She was capable, she didn't need to rely on anybody. She didn't need him to be her savior. But that was the only thing he was good at.

        "Lyriel," he began. She pressed her index finger to his lips, a grin on her lips that was more feral than was proper. He had to fight the urge to suck the finger into his lips. Mother above, she was killing him.

        "You're not fighting me on this," she removed her finger. Lyriel took his left hand, her fingers fit perfectly with his. He hated it. Hated how perfect she was for him and how he could not think of how Feyre's hand had felt in his. "Come now, my lord."

        Tamlin still was unsure if he liked the way she said that or not. Most of the time, it sounded taunting. But sometimes, he was certain that it was just his mind playing tricks on him, it sounded seductive. Lyriel Chaeren was going to be the death of him. She was going to make him more volatile than he had ever been. Or at least, he assumed as much. There was no telling when it came to her, which was perhaps the worst of it.

        She didn't wait for him to say yes or no. She just began to walk. He knew that he could just stand there. It didn't matter that she was a soldier, he was more muscle than man. He could hold her back if he wanted. But he didn't. He walked with her, almost nervous. He didn't know why. It wasn't like Lyriel despised him or anything of that nature. All she cared about was making him happy. All she wanted to do was make him feel loved. He couldn't even hate her for it.

        She walked him through the gardens he had played in as a child, making up stories about battles lost or won on the land. He didn't know why she was trying any of this. She hadn't grown up there, she had no idea what any of these places had actually meant to him as a child. Nor did he want to explain any of it.

        "Lyriel," it didn't seem to matter what he did or did not want. His tongue seemed to work before his mind did. "None of that has ever happened."

        "I know," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "But what else was I supposed to think? You haven't told me anything, Tam."

        He didn't know if he felt guilty or not. Tamlin had been more focused on finding out about Lyriel than telling her anything about himself. It just so happened that neither of them were open people.

        "A truth for a truth then," he murmured softly, his hand squeezing hers. Her skin felt cold against his. She was ice and death and cold, he was warmth and strength and life. How the Mother had assumed they would be a perfect match ... He would never understand it.

        "Trust me, Tamlin, you don't want my truths," Lyriel flitted away from him, heading deeper into the gardens. His heart nearly stopped beating as she stepped into his mother's rose garden. They were overgrown, wild, more natural than they had been in years. Lyriel looked at home in the roses. 

        The sunlight seemed to bounce off her hair, the roses were more vibrant when paired with her pale skin, the smell of the frozen berries mixed with the roses made his knees unnaturally weak. Tamlin didn't know what in the hell was wrong was him. He didn't know why he had to be so conflicted about this whole damned mess. She was his mate. He should want her, he should choose her. He knew that.

        But no matter what, he knew that he would choose Feyre. She was the one who had broken his curse. She was the one who had taught him how to love and how to feel something.

        It wasn't his fault that Lyriel hadn't come first. It wasn't his fault that she had waited too long to find him. None of this was his fault. Was it? 

        "I want them," he murmured as he followed her. She disappeared into the maze of roses, her fingers gently caressing each petal. Tamlin wished her fingers would ghost across his skin like that. He hated that he wanted it. 

        "Do you?" Lyriel looked at him, a defiant gaze in her eyes. 

        "Yes," he didn't know when she had stopped walking. He didn't know when he had gotten so close to her. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, he worried that he'd lose control. Instead of kissing her, he would kill her. He didn't know why he had such an issue controlling himself.

        Lyriel looked up at him, so small and so fragile. But so damned strong, so damned ready to fight her way out of situations that didn't include him. She'd been fighting for so long, he could see it in her eyes. In the way she didn't trust him to see the real her. The sarcasm had to be the only thing keeping her safe. 

        "Tell me who you are, Lyriel," he leaned down, his forehead resting gently against hers. He could feel her breath against his skin, he could feel the chill of her running through him. Mother Above, she was the one he needed. The one he wanted. But she was the one that he could not have. He was a proud man. A man who would keep his word and his promises. That just meant finding a way to free Feyre from the bargain she had made and marrying her. It didn't matter that neither of them wanted it anymore. 

        To be fair, he had no idea how Feyre was feeling anymore. She could very well still want all of this. He'd never know because he was too afraid to ask. Tamlin had lived his life being afraid of the truth. He'd crafted lies to avoid being hurt, but he knew that it was time to change. To grow from this whole damned thing.

        "You won't like it." Lyriel stepped away from him, a sad smile on her face. "Who could ever love a bastard?"

#tamlin #tamlin x oc #tamlin defense squad #tamlin rosehall #lyriel is a badass #lyriel owns a lot of knives #lyriel is just here to give tamlin migraines #tamlin x lyriel #lyriel chaeren #lyelin #tamlin just wants his fiddle #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of war and ruin #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses

[veilfirewarden]

My femme worldstate aka gatekeep, girl boss, gaslight ✨ all of these people are pretty fuckin ruthless and I’m excited to share them!

Meet Lyriel Tabris (she/her) all round badass warrior that somehow wields a sword as big as her with no problem. Unfortunately, falls for the shem that is Alistair and has very conflicting feelings about it all. She hardens Alistair, makes him the sole king of Fereldan, refuses to accept the dark ritual and dies 🥲 she deserved better.

What can I say about Noah Hawke?? She’s 6”3 trans femme rouge (she/they) fiercely loyal and is a raging lesbian. Her and Isabela get along swimmingly :’) she’s mostly red with a bit of purple, sides with the mages but kills Anders. He was her best friend after Varric, and the betrayal she felt runs deep. She stays in the fade 🥲

Emiril Lavellan (she/her) is the only mage in this worldstate and she has a ROUGH time of it. She falls for Solas, he breaks up with her, ouch. She rebounds onto Blackwall, bad idea, the second betrayal fucks her up. She finally find peace with Cullen, but she’s a changed woman. Far less trusting and naive. She disbands the inquisition and makes Leliana divine.

Basically they’re all very angry, bitter and resentful of the position life has given them. Don’t blame them tbh. I’m mostly putting this here for reference for myself! Maybe one day I’ll write fics with these characters but who knows :’) thanks for reading ! The pic crew can be found here.

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire & Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter 7

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 

Chapter 6

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

        The wedding seemed to come before he had a chance to process anything. He didn't know what he was doing with Lyriel. Ianthe still wanted him to banish her. Lucien told him how stupid it would be. But they didn't know. They couldn't know. Ianthe may have thought she knew something was up, but she could never be sure. Tamlin counted on her not being certain of anything. If she figured him out, everything would be chaos.

        Feyre had sunk into herself more and more. He wanted to fight it, wanted to bring her back to life. But he felt as though he couldn't. He didn't know the full truth of the horrors she went through. He just knew what he'd had to do. He couldn't compare either experience. It wouldn't be fair to either of them.

        Needless to say, the wedding felt as though it was the least important thing happening. He had briefly thought about postponing it. But Feyre had worked so hard on the plans. She deserved a perfect day. One where she did not have to think of anything, where she didn't have to worry about anything. Tamlin wouldn't allow his troubles to ruin anything for her. He wouldn't let any creatures come and interrupt the festivities either.

        If only he had known what she was hiding from him.

        His suit clung to him, making him feel claustrophobic. He had never felt so stifled before. The beast inside of him wanted to rip free of the clothing, wanted to react to the whole thing in a way that Tamlin would not allow. His emotions were all over the place. He felt as though he could barely breathe.

        It was a miracle he hadn't destroyed something yet.

        A gentle knock sounded on the door. "Enter," he called out as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. 

        Lyriel slipped silently into the room, her frozen berry scent giving her away. He glanced at her once through the mirror, his mouth going dry at the sight of her.

        She wore a dress of silk, as green as his eyes. A slight ran up her left leg, revealing a dagger sheathed at her thigh. The gown hugged the curves that her corsets and pants had never bothered to hide. But it seemed different. This was far more inviting. The beast inside of him wanted to touch her, to feel the soft skin of her thigh, of her arms. Her skin looked just a bit more tan than when she had first come, yet it still held the glow of the winter. Her hair fell in waves down her back, white as snow and so soft that he wanted to run his hands through it.

        The scars on her arms were still visible, as were the ones that ran up that delectable thigh. He wondered how many more were hidden underneath her gown. She had been a warrior for a long time. Longer than he ever would have expected.

        "You look beautiful," the words left his mouth before he could think about them. He swallowed once, trying to wet his dry throat. "But, uh, I doubt a dagger is an appropriate accessory."

        Her lips quirked into a smirk, a dimple appearing on the left side of her mouth. Had it always been there? Was he just noticing it now? "You'll have to take it from my dead body."

        Even when they were about to be parted for the rest of their lives, she still found it so easy to be Lyriel. Tamlin knew this wouldn't hurt her. She would get away from him without ever taking a backward glance at him. The thought killed him. Yet, at the same time, he knew he had no right to expect less of her. She deserved everything that he was getting. She deserved more.

        "Don't say that," he said as he turned to face her. He didn't miss the sparkle of amusement in her frozen eyes as she took in the sight of him in his finery.

        "You don't look like yourself," she stepped towards him slowly. Unsteadily. Tamlin glanced down once, noting the black heeled shoes she wore. She wasn't used to them, her steps small and uncertain. Or maybe she didn't want to be close to him. He couldn't blame her. She was losing a mate that she had never known. He was giving her up without ever actually rejecting her. They weren't supposed to be doing this. But he couldn't stop it. Neither could she.

        "What do you mean?" His voice was strained as she stopped just inches away from him. He kept his gaze at the wall behind her, trying not to think of the way her scent tickled his nose. He tried not to think of how her body had felt next to his. He tried not to think of how her hair had felt against his cheek.

        That night had been a mistake. One that he replayed over and over again in his mind. He would never have another night like that. Not with her.

        "You're not meant for finery," Lyriel stated, her hand slowly coming up. Her fingertips gently traced the shape of his cheekbone, going to his beard. She dropped her hand just before he had a chance to shudder. He hated what she was doing to him. Hated that she was playing with him. "You're meant to tear down kingdoms, to end tyranny. You're a warrior, Tam. Same as me."

        He stilled, hating the truth in her words. He had never wanted any of this. Had never wanted the responsibility. But he didn't want to be the monster everyone thought he was. He didn't think he was a warrior. He just didn't like to see injustice being done. Even if he knew, at this point, that there was very little he could do to stop it. 

        "Lyriel," he whispered her name, it felt like the beginnings of a secret song. "You should go. Home."

        A flash of something shone in her eyes as she stepped back from him. It was gone before he could figure out what it had been. "I understand. After the wedding, I'll depart with the rest of your guests. We wouldn't want to cause a scene, would we?" 

        Her voice had hardened. It wasn't the soft lilt she'd used when speaking to him of who he was. She sounded as though she had just spoken to her general. Maybe the respect should have made him happy, but it just chilled him.

        He went to open his mouth, to say something else. Anything to make this moment different. He didn't want to say goodbye to her, didn't want to let her go. But Tamlin knew that he would have to. It had donned on him when she had slipped into the room. When her dress had begged him to tear it from her, he had known that they could not do this. She needed to go her own way, find her own happiness. He had to allow her the opportunity. He couldn't be selfish.

        Not when it came to her.

        Lyriel slipped from the room before he could find the words to say. Her scent lingered, his body ached with the need to go after her. To comfort her. He didn't though. He just turned back to the mirror, wiping whatever emotion may have been lingering in his face. He wouldn't allow any of the guests to see what he was feeling. All anyone would see was a man who was about to marry the woman he loved. 

        The only woman he loved.

        "Tam," Lucien spoke from outside the room, his knuckles gently rapping on the wood. "It's time."

        Tamlin took a deep breath, looking himself over once more. He nodded at himself before he turned to leave. He stepped out of the room, clasping his best friend on the back. "How's Feyre?" It felt wrong not to ask, even if he knew it was probably inappropriate to ask about her.

        "About as nervous as you are," Lucien could read him too easily. It came from knowing each other as long as they had. He had never hated it before. "It's all going to be alright. As soon as you two are married, we can finally settle everything."

        He knew that Lucien was right. They had a long way to go to make damn well certain that the Spring Court would make it through the aftermath of everything. Not to mention preparing for a war that may or may not come. He had to hope that the wedding would at least give his people some faith that things were getting better. He had to hope they believed it. Even if he wasn't sure if he did.

        They made their way to the gardens, Tamlin painting a smile upon his face as they walked. He wanted everyone to see what they should. A man who was finally getting everything that he wanted. He greeted guests, laughing at jokes and making his own when it felt appropriate to do so. His gaze flickered around, not taking in the decor.

        The flowers were beautiful, wrapping around columns that had been erected for the wedding. He didn't care about them, didn't care about the way the breeze fluttered around them and wrapped them in warmth. His gaze searched for Lyriel.

        She was standing with a group of Spring Court lords, a glass of champagne in her hand and soft laughter falling from her lips. His stomach twisted. She looked so at ease. She didn't look like the woman who had just told him he wasn't meant for this life. She didn't look like the soldier that he knew she was.

        She looked like a lady of the court. Lyriel may have thought that she was not suited for anything but a blade and a shield, but he knew better. He could see it in the way she carried herself, in the way she had wrapped his lords around her finger. She belonged in court life. She would do well in it. Mother above, he wished he hadn't of thought about it.

        He knew that Lyriel would sooner take a sword to the throat than belong to this world.

        "Lyriel's leaving tonight," he murmured to Lucien. Needing to get the words out before they festered in his chest and became a disease.

        "What did you do, Tam?" Lucien's smile never faltered, the perfect portrait of a man at ease with his lot in life. Even if it had been particularly shitty. "Did you say something to her?"

        "No," he was somewhat affronted that Lucien had even thought that he could do something to Lyriel. "It's just time for her to go. We've got enough on our plates without worrying about the Winter Court and what information they could be gathering."

        "Why haven't you had Ari check her out?" Lucien questioned, taking a glass of champagne from a waiter. Feyre would not show for another half hour. Plenty of time to get drunk on faerie wine. Celebrations often turned into week-long events. That was one of the many reasons why Tamlin had not wanted to postpone the wedding.

        "Didn't think she would have the time," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "She's been too busy dealing with Rhysand and his moods."

        He did feel bad for sending the girl to the Night Court. But the opportunity had never presented itself before. A mating bond had snapped into place, a bond that they could easily exploit. It was a wonder that he had yet to do the same thing with Lyriel. He had to get away from her before he did something he regretted.

        Lucien gave him a quick look before he slipped away to speak with others. More people came up to Tamlin, laughing and talking with him about things that did not matter. None of this mattered. At least, he didn't feel as though it did. He was stupid for thinking it. Stupid for thinking anything bitter on the supposedly happiest day of his life. Tamlin hated to think that he was in a foul mood. He hated to think that anything was going to ruin this day.

        Feyre deserved so much better than him. He hated himself for thinking that.

        "It's time," Lucien murmured to him. 

        Tamlin's throat felt dry as he watched Ianthe take her place at the head of the alter. He took his own place to the right of Lucien. The guests took their seats, Lyriel in the very back. He hadn't noticed the flowers that she had braided into her hair until then. The periwinkle petals were bright in her white hair. She spoke in soft tones to a man who sat by her. Good, she didn't need to be alone during this.

        He tore his eyes from her as the music began to fill the air. Feyre stepped out of the manor, her gown more taffeta and looking as though it was the most uncomfortable thing she had ever worn in her life. He painted a smile on his face for her. 

        Her own smile did not reach her eyes. She looked anxious, as though she was afraid of everything that was happening. He chalked it up to the last time she had been in front of a crowd of this magnitude. He could imagine how she would have to tell herself that they were okay. She wasn't being made to compete in trials that would possibly end in her death. She was walking towards him. Towards their future together.

        Until she stopped.

        His brow furrowed, his feet already beginning to move toward her. Something was wrong. Something was happening that he was unaware of. Had something happened? Had she decided to hide from him again? When would they get to the point where they could actually speak to each other?

        A gentle breeze that smelled of spiced wine and the depths of depravity was the only warning. Rhysand appeared in the blink of an eye, a cruel smile on his lips as he looked down at Feyre.

        "Feyre, darling," Tamlin wanted to rip him limb from limb. His claws felt as though they were ready to poke out. He heard the sound of steel being drawn from a sheath. "I've come to make good on our bargain."

        Before Tamlin could say a word, Rhysand had her in his arms. 

        "She'll be back in two weeks," Rhysand winked casually at Tamlin. A snarl tore free from Tamlin's lips as the scent of spiced wine and depravity filled the air once more.

        A dagger embedded itself in the pillar just beside Tamlin's head. If it had been thrown a second earlier, it would have caught Rhysand straight in the throat. The dagger was unadorned, a simple blade that had been used countless times if the smoothness of the handle was anything to judge by. If anger had not clouded his senses, he would have realized it carried Lyriel's scent with it. He would have seen the woman standing up, the flower petals falling from her hair and a look of rage painted on her face. 

        "Find her," Tamlin shouted, his voice carrying farther than usual with his rage. His entire body was shaking, his claws out and the fangs pushing at his gums. It hurt, it hurt so much. But he couldn't stop the beast from taking over.

        The guests fled, his guards and sentries quickly rushing off in order to figure out the impossible. Tamlin didn't know how to feel, how to react. He just went into the manor, his rage causing him to go through the home blindly. He ripped doors off of the hinges, tore down paintings, and crushed statues that were in his path. Anything to release some of the tension. Anything to release some of the rage that he felt.

        He wound up in his office, the desk becoming splinters as he pounded it over and over again with his fists. He had known Rhysand would take her. He'd done all he could to find out how to break their deal. Yet, nothing had ever come up. He'd never imagined that Rhysand hated him so much that he would go out of the way to ruin his wedding. Despite the hatred that he felt for the High Lord of the Night Court, he had respected him enough to think that Rhysand was better than this. Better than this dramatic bullshit.

        But he wasn't. No one was ever better. No one ever would be.

        He didn't hear her footsteps. He didn't smell her frozen berry scent. No, he didn't notice a damn thing until she gently touched his arm. His hand twitched, not knowing if he should shove her away or pull her closer. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing would ever make sense again and he knew it.

        "Tamlin," Lyriel spoke softly, kneeling on the floor beside him. The splinters of the desk tore her dress, ceramic pieces from the lamp tanged in the silk. "Tamlin, look at me."

        She didn't look afraid of him. He picked up on that before anything else. Her eyes were wide, but with concern. She was willing to put herself in a vulnerable position in order to try and speak with him. Tamlin trembled slightly as he looked at her. He was afraid. 

        Afraid of himself. Afraid of her. Afraid of what Rhysand was doing to Feyre. What he would do just to fuck with Tamlin. It all left him feeling powerless, unable to change anything or protect anyone that he loved. It was like he was a child again. Watching as his father did things that he wasn't proud of. The things that still haunted him at night.

        "I'm right here," she spoke softly, as though she were trying to soothe a wounded animal. Perhaps that was all he was. "I'm not leaving. We'll get her back. I promise. Everything is going to be alright, Tamlin. You'll find a way to get her out of whatever deal she made. You'll get married and have multiple children."

        Despite the fact that she could have easily been sarcastic, Lyriel sounded sincere. She sounded as though she believed that he would get those things. That he deserved those things. No one had ever made him feel as though he deserved to be happy. No one had ever made him feel as though he were anything but a monster.

        Feyre did her best. She had done better as a human when he had saved her from a life where she would have died before age twenty. She loved him because he had protected her. She had needed a protector. Now, she needed something different. Tamlin just had trouble realizing it. He never would. 

        "I just need you to breathe, alright?" Lyriel's eyes were brighter than he thought they had any right to be. He didn't know how a frozen evergreen could look bright, wide, and ... Perfect. His stomach ached at the mere thought of it all. This was too much. All of it was too much.

        "Lyriel," he breathed out, his fists clenching in front of him. He looked away from her, his eyes shut tightly. "You should go."

        "No, I shouldn't," it was infuriating how she never did as he asked. How she followed her own desire. He'd never known a soldier who didn't listen to orders. "You might tear down the manor if I do."

        He knew that she was right. He knew that she was just trying to help. She was trying to be a better person than he deserved. Tamlin felt as though every single thing that Feyre had ever been through was his fault. Everything Rhysand, Lucien, and everyone in the Spring Court fell on his shoulders. He knew that it was nonsensical to think that way. But he did.

        He always did.

        "Please," his voice was so small. So much smaller than it had been since the day he had become the High Lord.

        Lyriel took his hand in hers. He tried not to note how small her hands were in his. Hers were just as calloused as his own, just as full of scars and of stories that she may never tell him. He shuddered slightly at the chill her skin brought but he did not pull away.

        "We're mates," she had to bring that up now? When the world felt as though it were coming to an end. "Even though you're choosing her, I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."

        He opened his eyes then, looking at her. Really looking at her. The periwinkle petals had fallen from her hair, one had been left behind. Her eyes were filled with tears, perhaps due to knowing that he wouldn't pick her over Feyre. Yet, she clung to his hand with as much strength as she could muster. She held his hand as though he was her one lifeline. Tamlin had always wanted to be someone's protector, someone's lifeline. 

        He didn't dare believe he could protect Lyriel.

        He brought his right hand up, his claws shrinking back into his skin, and gently moved it to her hair. He plucked the periwinkle petal from her hair and let it fall slowly to the floor. His eyes didn't follow it. Neither did hers. Instead, he allowed his gaze to travel from her eyes to the other areas of her face.

        With her time in the sun, freckles had begun to bloom across the bridge of her nose. He wanted to trace them with his forefinger but he did not. The bridge was crooked, having been broken a few times. He wanted to know those stories, wanted to share his own with her. His gaze fell to the small scar above her upper lip. It cut into the cupid's bow and made her lips look much more kissable.

        He didn't think about it. Not for the first time in his life, Tamlin took action without thinking. He leaned forward, lightly brushing his lips against hers.

        She tasted of those damned frozen berries. The sweetness of them was addicting and he cursed the Winter Court for it. Her lips were soft, perfect against his own.

        He kissed her again, hungrier. Desperate. It felt right. Like some switch in his brain had been flipped. His right hand tangled in the white-blonde hair, pulling her as close as he could. She kissed him back, just as hungrily. They were teeth and tongue and fire and ice.

        They were berries and roses and pine and peony. Everything they shouldn't be and everything they should.

        Lyriel pulled away first, a shuddering breath leaving her. She stood, her gown showing more skin now that it had been ripped by splinters of wood and shards of ceramic. She looked at him for a few seconds, he could taste the tension in the air, before she turned on her heel and left.

        Leaving Tamlin alone in his broken kingdom.

#a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of war and ruin #a court of silver flames #acotar fanfic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #tamlin #Tamiel #tamlin defense squad #tamlin x oc #tamlin rosehall #Lyriel #lyriel chaeren #tamlin x lyriel #lyriel is just here to give tamlin migraines #lyriel is a badass #tamlin just wants his fiddle

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire and Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter 5

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

note; i’m so sorry this is late !! june is one of the worst months mentally for me and i didn’t even realize it was saturday lmao. but this is a fluff chapter so hope that makes up for it !!

Things were going about as well as they ever did in the Spring Court. Lyriel had not stopped training with his guards and sentries. She had been out there every single morning for the past two weeks. She was better than he had expected her to be. Perhaps her collection of blades was not just for show.

        Feyre was still suspicious of the woman but had said nothing more. It was in her eyes whenever Lyriel slipped silently into a room. Tamlin had told her again and again that it was nothing to be concerned about. Yet, Feyre seemed more withdrawn than usual.         

        He had assumed it was just nerves because of the wedding. He had tried to take away anything that would stress her. He had tried to do what he could to protect her. She had done so much for him. It was his turn to be the provider, the protector. He just hoped he was doing the right thing.

        "We're expecting a large turnout," Ianthe said excitedly over dinner that night. 

        He was the only one who noticed Lyriel's grip tightened on her fork. 

        "I should expect so. This will be the first thing we've had to truly celebrate in a very long time," he sipped his wine, his gaze falling to Feyre. She shifted in her seat once, her fork laid beside her plate.

        He knew that something was wrong with her. Something that he needed to figure out but ... He was afraid. Afraid that she would say she no longer wanted this. She no longer wanted him.

        What if she didn't love him anymore? What if she had only thought that she had loved him? Why hadn't she told him any of this? He felt as though he was trapped behind an iron door, its frame built in the ash wood that kept his magic from being of any use. Yet, he said nothing. He just kept building walls around the two of them. Around her. He would protect her against anything in this world.

        Even if it killed him, he would do anything in the world for Feyre.

        "The wedding is going to be the talk of the Spring Court for centuries. Feyre has made exceptional choices." The way she said it made Tamlin wonder if Feyre really had made any of the decisions. He liked to think that she had. That she'd been inspired by anything.

        He didn't like seeing her so at odds. He didn't like watching her lose herself to the demons that plagued her mind. But he didn't know how to help. He was trying to make things seem normal but he thought it was making things worse. It was too confusing. Too much and not enough.

        "I would expect nothing less," he could feel his claws trying to poke out. His excitement radiating through him and bringing the beast forward. He shoved it down. He would not be reminded of that side of him. Not now.

        Tamlin looked at Feyre, watching her as she stared down at her plate. Did she want this wedding? Did he?

        The thought almost made him choke. Of course, he wanted to marry Feyre. It was all that he had ever wanted. She meant more to him than anyone else ever would. There was nothing to suggest wanting anyone else. If one ignored the bond that was between himself and Lyriel. He needed to send her away. It was getting too challenging to separate the bond from his actual thoughts, his desires.

        But seeing her go was one of the few things he found himself dreading. They had met on accident. What if they never crossed paths again?

        She would be out there, somewhere. She'd fall in love with someone else. She'd be happy without him. But did he want that? Did he want Lyriel to be on her own? No. He didn't. He hated the fact that he didn't. Feyre was supposed to be the one he cared for. Lyriel was just supposed to be a means to an end. A stronger connection to the Winter Court. That was all she could ever be to him. 

        He just wondered if that was for the best. Or just selfish bargaining with fate. Surely the Mother wouldn't continue testing him this way.

        Fate seemed to hate Tamlin Rosehall. He'd nearly killed his mother during his birth, had been the third brother and yet somehow managed to become the High Lord, then he'd been cursed for not wanting to be a tyrant's plaything. He truly did not see how fate was kind to anyone. Maybe he had just drawn the short stick in life. Or the Mother had been testing him. Growth from adversity and all of that bullshit that the priestesses always talked about.

        "If My Lord will excuse me," Lyriel's smooth voice pulled him from his thoughts. He could see a tense look behind her eye, her body poised to strike. He wondered who her target would have been. "But I must finish a letter for my general. Thank you for dinner."

        She did not wait for him to excuse her, nor did she bow to him. Lyriel slipped from the room as silent as a wraith. Ianthe's eyes tracking her every movement.

        Feyre did not wait long to excuse herself. Tamlin wanted to ask her to stay, but knew that he would be pushing it. Let her have the time she needed. He was trying to do what he thought was best. But none of it seemed to actually help her.

        The dining room felt smaller when it was just himself, Ianthe, and Lucien. For some reason, there was a tension in the room. He knew that Ianthe had eyes for Lucien but he did not think it was that important. He should have. Just based on how Lucien seemed to be avoiding looking at her.

        "That Lie woman ... She's imprudent," Ianthe stated as she picked up her glass of wine. She took a sip, a droplet of red dripping from her lips, before speaking once more. "She doesn't show you or our court the necessary respect. Surely Kallias wouldn't approve of her behavior."

        "What are you suggesting?" Tamlin questioned, ignoring the pounding in his chest. He knew Ianthe was smart. He knew she could put together secrets, but he didn't think she'd ever figure this out. Cauldron help him if she did.

        He knew that Ianthe would never turn against him. But what would she do if she found out he wasn't following the path the Mother had set for him? Surely she would be livid.

        "Punishment of course," Ianthe smiled at him. "Nothing too severe of course, that isn't our decision. But at least banishment. A year or two at least. Maybe longer if you feel like it's wise."

        "We can't risk Kallias seeing it as an insult," Lucien spoke up, a scowl marring the handsome features of his face.

        "We'll send word explaining the situation," Ianthe seemed almost giddy. "We explain that we won't take this as an affront to the Spring Court or to the Cursebreaker. Kallias will know that we still want friendship."

        Tamlin said nothing, staring at the plate that sat in front of him. Was this what they needed to do? Would he sell out Lyriel just to keep Ianthe happy? He didn't know what to do. If he kept Lyriel around, it could mean being found out. But sending her away? It felt like he was ripping something out of himself.

        "Lucien," he said after a moment. "What do you think?"

        "Lyriel has gone against a majority of what you've said," he had always been truthful with Tamlin. It was one of the reasons why he had become a brother to the man. "But I don't think she does it to insult you. She's a soldier, she isn't one for court life. It's obvious in the way she holds herself. Punishing her for that might just show the other Courts that the suspicions they hold of us are accurate."

        "Yes," Ianthe sighed as she looked at Lucien, daggers in her eyes. "But even a soldier should know to respect her betters. She has shown Tamlin nothing but disrespect. Not to mention the other members of this court."

        What had Lyriel said to Ianthe? It had to have been something intense. Or it could have just been some simple snide remark. He did not know Lyriel well, but he knew that she had a tongue on her. One that he sometimes debated asking her to still. If he didn't know she would verbally attack him for it, he would have.

        Tamlin gently ran his fingertips up and down the wooden arms of his chair. Small designs being drawn by the forefingers, followed by straight lines with his pinkies. What was he to do about Lyriel Chaeren? The question had haunted him since the moment they met. She was rash, she didn't have any notion of respect. Although he was certain that was because they were mates. Not because she was actually disrespectful.

        An ocean of unease rolled in his gut as he thought over his options. Keep Lyriel there. Keep her trapped in a home that she didn't want, make her watch as he loved another woman without ever giving her a second thought. Or let her go. Banish her from the Spring Court and never see her again. Let her fade into the background, a distant heart-breaking memory. He could let her be the woman she wanted to be. He could let her find someone who would love that frozen fire that burned inside of her. 

        The thought of her loving anyone else killed him.

        The thought of her suffering in silence killed him.

        Tamlin knew that he could not make a decision that did not hurt either of them. He couldn't fathom letting Feyre go. He couldn't think about running his Court into the ground. Although it seemed that was all he was good at doing. How would the Spring Court handle any of this? He didn't know. He didn't possibly know how they could weather a broken High Lord.

        So far they had managed. But managing was not thriving. He wanted the Spring Court to thrive.

        Feyre was the only way they would ever thrive.

        "The wedding is in two weeks," he spoke slowly, the image of the in-control High Lord that they all wanted. "After the wedding, I'll take care of Lyriel. Banishment ... It'll send a message that the Spring Court is not to be ridiculed." It would also tell her that he couldn't pick her. No matter what they both felt.

        Thunder boomed, the sound reverberating around the manor. To Tamlin, it had always been a lullaby. One that he had grown up knowing all the words to. The thunderstorms in the Spring Court had always seemed to sing to him. The chaos that raged outside matched the chaos that raged inside of him. It felt as though the Mother was finally seeing him. Seeing him and giving him some sort of message.

        It had never been one he had worked out.

        Tamlin had not gone to Feyre's room that night. He had not wanted to after coming to the decision of what to do with Lyriel. He hadn't wanted to see anyone. Holing himself up in his personal bedroom with paperwork and correspondence was a good excuse. As good as any, really.

        It seemed that all he did anymore was listen to lord's bitch about his taxes and tell the other High Lords how the Spring Court was fairing. He didn't know if he could handle it for much longer. But he did. Because he had to. If he didn't, it would all fall on Lucien's shoulders. What use was he then? 

        He felt something through the bond. A strong sense of urgency, a sense of fear. The beast inside of him wanted to run to her, to wrap his arms around her and protect her. But he didn't. He just stayed as he was, gripping his pen so tightly it felt as though it would burst.

        He did not have to come to her.

        The door opened and she slipped inside. Trembling as though she had been soaked to the bone. She didn't appear wet. She appeared fine. Just ... Terrified.

        "What are you doing here?" He growled out, fighting with the urge to protect her and the want to protect his own space. He didn't know what the balance was. Didn't know who to be for her. For anyone really.

        "I'll leave as soon as it's over," she snapped at him.

        The bite in her voice made him recoil. Maybe she was disrespectful as Ianthe had said. Or maybe she was just a girl who was scared. Considering how he hadn't seen her anything other than collected and arrogant, he doubted she knew what fear was. 

        "Lyriel," he sounded tired as he looked at her. "That doesn't explain why you're here."

        She didn't answer, her back turned to him as she sat on the edge of his bed. It should have made him mad to see her sitting there. But it didn't. He was too tired to be mad. Too curious as to why she had shown up in his room. 

        "Lyriel," the way her name left his lips was softer than it had ever been. He couldn't hide his concern for her. Even if he wished to.

        "I ... I just," Lyriel's arms shook as she slid her boots off. "Don't repeat this ever." She turned to glare at him, but it was halfhearted. The fire was not blazing. She looked more like a girl than a soldier.

        "I won't." Tamlin knew at that moment that he would keep this conversation between them. "Just ... Tell me what's going on."

        Lyriel cleared her throat, moving to lay in his bed. He had not told her she could. Yet, he found that he was too concerned to care. "I feel safer when I'm around you."

        No one had ever told him that. He often felt as though he scared people away. He thought they ran from him. No one had ever run towards him. His stomach churned. He wished she would have said anything else. How could he stand to push her away when she was the first person who had ever needed him?

        This whole thing was becoming a complicated mess.

        He needed to tell her to leave. To tell her to get the hell out and never come back. 

        But how could he? She was curled into a ball, making herself so small that she may have disappeared. He didn't ignore how she buried her face in the pillow he used. Nor how she was shivering. 

        Something within him broke at the sight. 

        Tamlin slowly stood, making his way over to the bed. He sat down beside her, resisting the urge to rest his hand on her shoulder. He stared at the wall behind her. Keeping his thoughts on something other than the woman who he wanted to wrap in his embrace.

        "What's going on, Lye," he felt somewhat odd calling her by the nickname. However, it felt as though this was the moment to comfort her. To tell her things were going to be alright. Even if he could not make things better. "I've never seen you like this before."

        Lyriel kept her back to him, staring at the same wall he was. "We don't need to talk."

        Something within him felt as though it was falling from a great height. He didn't know why she was pushing him away while she ran to him. Was he that despicable? Was he someone that she wanted to just shove as far away as she possibly could? He didn't know. He didn't want to know either.

        "I think we do," he told her, still not daring to touch her. "Something's upset you."

        A loud clap of thunder shook the windows, Lyriel ducked her head under the blankets. He could hear her voice but he could not make out the words she spoke. 

        Tentatively, he reached out through the bond. He would not touch her physically but he would use the bond to his advantage. He sent feelings of comfort and peace, wrapping her in whatever protection that he possibly could. Yet, he knew this would not be enough. She could feel comforted but if she was anticipating every crash, every bang she would more than likely continue to feel anxious.

        "You know you shouldn't be here, right?" Tamlin regretted the words the second they left his mouth. No one had ever said that he knew how to speak with people. Lyriel would be no exception.

        "I said we didn't have to talk," he heard her voice from under the blanket. At least she was speaking to him.

        "You're in my room, Lyriel." Tamlin sighed. "I'll decide if we talk or not."

        "I already told you the truth. What more do you want from me?" She peeked out from under the blanket. He had to swallow down the lump that had formed in his throat.

        "I just want to know where your heads at." He admitted, fighting the urge to run his fingers through her hair. To pull her into his lap and hold her until the storm passed. She wasn't Feyre. She wasn't the one he was supposed to hold. Hell, he didn't even do that with Feyre. She didn't need him to.

        Lyriel didn't seem to need him at all most of the time. She was ice. Unmoving and unchallenged. More a glacier than a woman. But as the lightning illuminated her face, he saw her for what she was. A woman who had been forced to grow up too fast. There was a hint of childish fear deep within the depths of her frozen eyes. Her left eyebrow twitched slightly. He noticed there was a new cut in it, probably from training that morning.

        There were bags under her eyes, darker than anything he'd ever seen on a High Fae. Had she been sleeping? Had she taken care of herself? Or was she just that miserable in the Spring Court? He'd caused this. He knew that he had.

        "My head is perfectly fine," it did not sound like the truth. "I just have an issue with storms."

        "What's the issue?" Tamlin wanted to ask if she had been sleeping. If she'd been eating enough. All the same questions he knew he should ask Feyre. All the questions he had been avoiding answering when anyone asked him.

        "I don't like them." It was a guarded answer. There was something more there. But Tamlin did not want to press. Not when she was holding herself so tightly, not when his blankets were wrapped around her like a shield. Besides, soon enough he would not be the one worrying about Lyriel Chaeren.

        He knew that he needed to get her as far from the Spring Court as possible. He knew that she deserved to find someone who would love her as he loved Feyre. Yet, the idea of her being away from him made him want to vomit. The thought of another person wrapping their arms around her and protecting her when the winds raged and thunder rattled made him see red. He needed her. He needed her to need him. Yet, he couldn't have her. It was unfair to both of them to keep her around.

        Mother above he never wanted to let her go.

        "You'll find the Spring Court gets them quite often," it was true enough. Tamlin knew he would tear apart his own Court brick by brick if it meant keeping the storms away. If it meant keeping Lyriel safe. "But they don't last long."

        "If you're determined to have a discussion, can we please talk about something else?" Her twitching eyebrow rose just slightly. The sight nearly comical. 

        "What do you want to talk about?"

        "Anything," Lyriel's voice was strong despite the shaking of her body. "Why haven't you punished me for training?"

        "I'm more afraid of what you'll do if I keep you from it," Tamlin admitted with a slight nod of his head. "I saw that look in your eyes when you came into my office and I ... I didn't want to be the reason it was gone."

        When the morning came, he would regret the words. Until then, she needed him. Maybe he needed her. He could allow himself to speak the truth to her. For one night. While she was scared, defenseless, he would be honest. 

        "No one's going to break me," she sounded determined. "Not even you."

        It wasn't said out of hate. He knew she meant that he could choose Feyre. That he was free to choose who he loved, who he gave his heart to. She wouldn't let his decision be the end of her. He didn't know how much he needed that knowledge.

        Tamlin slowly took her hand. It was wrapped in the blanket and hard to grasp, but he still took it. Her hand was cold, even though the blankets. Ice ran in her veins while the first blooms of spring ran in his. The Mother had played a cruel joke.

        The two fell into an easy silence, Tamlin continuing to send comfort through the bond. Her hand slowly warming while he held it. His own roaring mind quieted as she held onto him. He felt as though he could finally breathe again. As if some heavy weight had left him.

        "Tam," her voice was soft, muffled with the early onset of sleep. "Will you stay with me?" 

        His heart seemed to slow as he heard her question. He knew what his answer should be. That he would go to Feyre and spend the rest of the night with her. That Lyriel would be leaving after the wedding so him staying did not matter. But he knew the truth. He had always known.

        "Always." 

        As Lyriel drifted into an easy sleep, Tamlin came to a realization. It didn't matter who wanted her gone. It didn't matter how he felt about her or Feyre. Lyriel Chaeren was there to stay. Even if he could not give her the life she deserved, he could not throw her to the side. 

        Tamlin Rosehall was a selfish bastard.

#tamlin #tamlin defense squad #Tamiel #tamlin x oc #tamlin rosehall #Lyriel #lyriel chaeren #tamlin x lyriel #lyriel is just here to give tamlin migraines #lyriel is a badass #tamlin is a bastard #spring court #winter court #enemies to lovers #soulmate #mate au #they're so cute i hate it #tamlin fluff

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire & Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter 6

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 

Chapter 5

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

 She was in his arms when he woke the next morning. The storm had passed, leaving nothing more than a light condensation on the windows of his bedroom. The light was distorted as it came through the window, hitting Lyriel almost perfectly. She was asleep, perhaps for the first time since she had come to the Spring Court. Her brow was smoothed, her fingers clenching around the blankets as though they were a hilt of some sort.

        Tamlin's heart ached as he took in the gentle slope of her nose. He tried not to focus on her lips and the gentle way they were parted, her breath coming out in the softest snores. Mother above he did not need this.

        Slowly, he untangled himself from her. He did not know when he had begun holding her. Perhaps sometime after the storm had passed. He wished he knew. He wished he could remember how it had felt to first wrap his arms around her. At least then he would have that memory. He would have been able to think on it when she eventually found someone better.

        Even if he kept her in the Spring Court, he was certain she would find someone else. Someone who would spar with her, who would laugh with her, who would give up a mating bond for her. She deserved that. Even if he would want to kill whoever tried to get close to her.

        It wasn't fair. He knew it. He knew that he was holding her to a different standard. There was no excuse for it. Maybe if he was a better man there would be. Yet, he was anything but a better man. It seemed as though the whole world was right about one thing. Tamlin was a bastard. A brute. Someone who would trap their mate and marry another woman

        Wouldn't his father be proud?

        The thought made him sick. He had to shove it down, shove everything down as far as he could as he began to ready himself for the day ahead. He did it as quietly as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Lyriel. She needed more sleep. He didn't know if she would take it well should he actually tell her that.

        From what he knew, Lyriel didn't take most things well. At least if they came from him. He had no idea how she reacted around other people. Maybe he just antagonized her. Or it was her way of fighting back against the bond that neither of them truly wanted.

        She shifted, a soft grunt escaping her. A shiver went through him at the sound. 

        Mother save him. He knew that he should just leave her there. That he should not think of what other sounds might come from her throat. How he could make them. 

        Tamlin quickly finished strapping on his bandolier before he slipped from the room. He willed himself to not return to that bed. To stay as far from her as he could. He worried that her scent would be all over him. Worried that Feyre would be able to scent it. It had been a mistake. But not one that he could find himself regretting.

        This whole thing was a mess. One that Tamlin had never foreseen. He had always assumed that he would never find his mate. He had thought the Mother would be cruel in letting him go his entire life without that bond. He had gotten over it. 

        It seemed that she was cruel in another way. 

        Tamlin huffed softly as he shoved open the door to his office. He hated to hide himself away, but it was the only thing he could do. After Amarantha had been dealt with, his lands had cleared of the beasts roaming them. Now, he was focusing more on rebuilding villages and his lords' lands. 

        Occasionally, he would find something prowling. It was easily dealt with most of the time. That or he would have to go and deal with one of his lords. They had been more of a nuisance than he had ever imagined. He had assumed they would be supportive, especially after the hell they'd been through for forty-nine years. Yet, it appeared as though all of them wished to see him fail.

        Tamlin did not have many supporters.

        "I was wondering when you'd show up," Ianthe stated as she looked over at him. She was sat in front of his desk, a languid smile on her face as she took in the room. "I hope you slept for once. The Spring Court needs you at your best."

        He hid his irritation as best he could. He hated to show Ianthe when he was displeased with her. He wouldn't risk losing his High Priestess. Not when the Spring Court needed her now more than ever. Yet, it did feel far too early in the morning to be dealing with her and her schemes.

        "Good morning, Ianthe," he said lamely. He sat down at his desk, not bothering to ask why she was there. She had a habit of telling him before he could say a word.

        "I've already written up the letter to Kallias," she seemed too eager. There was no reason for her to hate Lyriel. Not that he was aware of at least.

        She hadn't found out the truth, had she? 

        "It won't be necessary," Tamlin cursed himself for how quickly he'd said it. "Lyriel and I spent last night speaking about her actions. We'll be seeing a different side of her."

        They wouldn't. But the lie had slipped from his lips as easily as a breath. Perhaps he should ask her to keep up appearances, to keep from bringing too much attention to herself. However, he was almost certain that this would just make it worse. 

        "I suppose that's why her scent is all over you?" Ianthe's eyes darkened, the look making her look less beautiful and more like a vengeful spirit of some sort. He would not say it but it did scare him just a bit.

        His fingers curled around the arms of his chairs. His claws biting at the skin. "It was a long conversation."

        "Tamlin, if you've fucked the girl it's just another reason for us to be rid of her." 

        "I haven't laid a finger on her." It didn't matter that he wanted to. It didn't matter that she haunted his thoughts in the late hours of the night. He would never hurt Feyre in that way. Would never hurt anyone by betraying their trust like that. He was a monster but he was not cruel.

        "Of course you haven't," Ianthe sat forward, her eyes twinkling in a predatory way. "I won't judge you for having needs, Tamlin. But you might think of the Cursebreaker."

        His spine straightened as he realized just what she was doing. He knew that Ianthe had her ways. That she plotted and manipulated things. But he had never expected her to go after him. He had always assumed that she would use it for him. 

        "I think of Feyre constantly. Mind your tongue, Ianthe. I've done nothing wrong." Tamlin's claws slipped from the skin, causing him to nearly wince. Contrary to popular belief, he felt the pain that came with losing control. He did not do it for fun. Even if the world thought it was something he had fun with. The world was quite wrong about most things that had to do with Tamlin.

        The door burst open before she had a chance to respond. Lucien stood in the doorway, a letter clenched in his hands and an easy grin on his lips. 

        "Tam, you're going to want to hear this," he stopped once he noticed that Ianthe was there. His easy grin slipped from his face, a tension coming to him that Tamlin had not noticed before. He wondered if he could sense the tension in the room or if Ianthe just bothered him that much. He knew which he assumed it was. But that didn't often mean that he was right.

        "Ianthe, we'll discuss this later," he told the priestess without a glance. She was going to threaten him? He would show her exactly who she was dealing with. He had been known to be petty on occasion. 

        Ianthe bristled but she stood nonetheless. "Of course," was all she said before she slipped out of the room. She sent a glare his way before disappearing down the hallways. He just had to hope that she would not be going to find Feyre. Not now. Not ever.

        He would rather die than hurt her. Knowing he spent the night with Lyriel? It didn't matter the context, it would hurt her.

        "What is it Lucien?" He asked as his friend stepped into the room, shutting and latching the door behind him. Lucien sank into the chair that Ianthe had vacated, tossing the letter onto the desk.

        "We've received word from Cari," Lucien never used the woman's full name. If Tamlin hadn't of known better, he would've assumed that he was sweet on her. "Rhysand has shockingly not said a damned word about his plans. But she does know something about Azriel."

        Tamlin's brow rose as he picked up the letter. It was coded. The words were written in the small footprints of her green finch. She and Lucien had spent weeks with the creature devising the code. Tamlin had never really gotten his head around it. But his spymaster had been too proud of it for him to tell her to change it.

        "What exactly does she know?" 

        "Besides the fact that he doesn't want a mate unless it's Morrigan?" Lucien began to smirk slightly as he watched Tamlin. "Well, apparently the shadowsinger has been watching the human realms. According to Cari, he's spending more of his time there than at the Night Court. It makes you wonder what exactly they're doing over there."

        A soft sigh escaped Tamlin's lips. "That doesn't tell us anything! Just that the Night Court is interested in another Feyre," he wasn't completely certain that was the case. However, there was something that told him it wasn't.

        There was something else going on. Something that he was unsure if he wanted to know. He knew that Prythian was not safe. Hybern would surely send another monster to their shores. War would come sooner or later. They could not just sit around and wait for it. 

        Despite knowing this, Tamlin knew that he would try to ignore the signs as long as possible. They had already been through too much. He didn't think he could stand going through all of it again. He couldn't stand putting his people through hell after telling them that it was over.

        He had lied to so many people in his life. What was a lie to protect them? 

        "Or that something's coming and we need to prepare for it," Lucien pointed out with a soft sigh. "Besides, we all know that there's no one that could replace Feyre. She's unique."

        That was one word for it. Tamlin knew she was better than unique. She was ... Perfection. Everything that he had ever wanted. Someone who was actually worthy of him and of being the wife of a High Lord. Feyre was everything to him. She was the one person that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

        Still, the news about the Night Court was distressing. He began to pace the room, his fingers twitching towards the knives on his bandolier. He didn't think about how he had seen Lyriel do the same thing. Her fingers constantly itching for a blade when she was concentrating. He didn't think about it because he had not truly realized they did the same thing. Why would he when his mind was constantly elsewhere?

        "Should we send scouts to the human realms?" He questioned, speaking more to himself than Lucien. "They might think we have another curse if we do. Fuck."

        His head tilted back, golden hair falling just to the middle of his back. He wondered how in the hell he was going to get anyone to understand the stresses. How was he going to deal with managing the blunderings of the Night Court as well as his feelings for a certain Winter Court soldier and his upcoming nuptials? It was all too much for any man. He didn't think anyone would have dealt with this nearly as well as he had.

        But considering he spent most of his nights sleeping as a beast at the foot of Feyre's bed, that wasn't saying much.

        Something had to give. It had to be soon. Otherwise, he was destined to run the Spring Court into ruin. The thought alone made him want to be sick.

        "I need to think," he announced. Lucien nodded his head, understanding clear on his face. That was the one good thing about Lucien. He always seemed to understand Tamlin. He knew that sometimes it was just better to let the beast wander off on his own. It was better to keep away from him. To give him space and time.

        He slipped out of his office, his fingers gripping the hilt of one of the knives strapped to his chest. He missed the days when he didn't have to keep his knives close. He missed when he could travel his court with nothing more than his fiddle. He missed writing about the beauty of his lands, of witnessing a child's smile when they heard his music. He doubted he would ever get a chance to experience that again. 

        Soft words escaped his lips as he walked out of Rosehall. He had never been a mumbler until becoming the High Lord. When problems became too much, he was either prone to letting the beast out or talking to himself. One was definitely a bit healthier than the other. Even if he wasn't sure which it was at times.

        Tamlin hardly paid attention to his surroundings as he walked. His feet taking him in the direction that he needed to go. His mind too distracted by whatever it was the Night Court was planning. None of it made sense. Why were they so focused on the human realms? Why was his spymaster so worried about the whole thing? Why did he want to question everything and not leave this whole mess up to Lucien and Cariaru? That should've been his go-to. He should've been focused on the wedding and getting rid of these feelings he had for Lyriel.

        The Night Court really did have to ruin everything. Didn't they?

        He strolled into the maze of roses. It was not the ones his father had given his mother but something she had done herself. She had taken him to the maze at the northeast corner of the grounds often as a child. They'd played for hours while his father trained his brothers.

        He missed her most of all. He knew that it was shitty and that he shouldn't have missed one of his family members more than the others. But he did. His mother had been the only one who had ever seen him and cared. The only one who had wanted the best for him. Maybe that was why it hurt the most that she was gone.

        The scent of roses had once been overwhelming to him. He had thought that it would one day drown him. That he would die by an overwhelming amount of roses. They had wound up in his nightmares. But now ... Now they calmed him. Now he realized they were more of a birthright than anything to ever be afraid of.

        He sank down on a stone bench that was still slightly damp from the storm that had ravaged them last night. He didn't mind it. The chill bit into him and kept him thinking critically about what was happening.

        He rested his elbows on his knees, his forefingers resting on his top lip to keep himself from speaking anymore. The wind blew through his hair, his eyes fluttering to a close. He would figure this out. Somehow, he would figure this out.

        The human queens had to have something to do with this. Maybe Azriel hadn't told Cariaru yet. They had only known her for a few months. It wasn't long enough for her to gain their trust. Soon though, she would be able to give them the information they required. Soon Tamlin would know exactly what was happening beyond his borders. At least, he hoped so. 

        Soft footsteps sounded behind him. The restless energy that had been building in him suddenly ceased. Whoever was approaching him would find that sneaking up on the High Lord of Spring was one of the stupidest decisions that one could ever make. 

        "Tamlin," her voice was soft, soothing his soul more than anything else ever had. What he wouldn't give to hear her say her name a thousand times. His name had never sounded like a song before. But Feyre made it sound so beautiful that he wanted to cry.

        "Feyre," he turned his head towards her. He tried to smile, tried to make her feel as though everything was fine. That he was at ease. Yet, would he ever be at ease? He had no hopes of understanding the Night Court. Nor did he know how he was supposed to marry Feyre when it felt as though everything was quickly beginning to change. It was a mess that he did not quite know what to do about. "What are you doing out here?"

        "I needed some fresh air," she admitted as she sat down beside him on the bench. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. He wanted nothing more than to keep her close for the rest of his life.

        At least then he would be able to protect her. He needed to protect her.

        "You didn't come to bed last night." He stiffened at that. Ianthe had been able to smell Lyriel on him. Would Feyre? Had she been able to figure out different scents yet? He didn't know but he hoped that she hadn't. Hoped that she was still so confused about that and everything else that came with being a High Fae.

        He felt like the world's shittiest person just for thinking it.

        "I had work to attend to. Nothing serious," he added quickly. "Just precautions. I don't want anything ruining our wedding."

        He tried to ignore the grimace that flashed across her expression. He had been trying to ignore the fact that whatever bond that had once been between them was quickly evaporating. He no longer felt that strong pull towards her. He knew that she avoided him as much as he avoided her. But he was fighting every single day to get that spark back. Maybe this whole thing was Lyriel's fault. Maybe they both just needed some time apart. Time to just process all that they had been through. All that they continued to go through.

        But if she was away from him he would be unable to protect her. Who knew what the other High Lords would do if they found out anything about Feyre. He was keeping her as safe as he possibly could by keeping her contained.

        He just didn't know that it was slowly killing her. He didn't want to know.

        "Are you alright? You look like you haven't slept in days," he said, his green eyes almost glowing with the concern that he felt for her.

        Feyre nodded her head, sheets of golden brown hair falling around her. "I'm fine, Tam. Just ... Just concerned with how fast everything's been happening."

        He could understand that. Could understand how frustrating the whole thing must have been. She had died, been brought back, and was now about to marry him. It had been a long few months. A long time that had somehow not been long enough. He wished he could have done more to help ease her into the whole thing. Wished that they could put off the wedding longer. However, he thought it would be the best way to put all the horrible shit behind him.

        Behind them.

        Feyre deserved to not worry about any of this. Not to worry about Amarantha or Hybern or any of it. She had done enough. She deserved to rest. 

        "We'll get through it," he promised her as he gently took her by the hand. "We always do."

        Her hand felt stiff and cold in his. It felt more like the hand of a corpse than of the woman that he loved. What had changed between them? Had they been through too much? Could they ever go back to what they had been? They deserved a happily ever after. He had been her fairytale prince. She had been his knight in shining armor. They were done now. They could sit back and rest without worrying about any of it.

        Yet they were broken. Perhaps they always had been. Two broken people who had tried to make each other whole. It just wasn't working this time.

        They had been broken down beyond repair. Tamlin just could not see it. He could not begin to let her go.

#tamlin #acotar #Tamiel #acotar fluff #acotar fanfic #tamlin defense squad #tamlin x oc #tamlin fluff #Lyriel #lyriel chaeren #tamlin x lyriel #lyriel is just here to give tamlin migraines #lyriel is a badass #tamlin rosehall

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire and Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

        He felt as though he could hear the clanging of blades from the safety of his office. He could certainly hear her shouting at herself whenever she made a mistake through the bond. He wondered who in the hell had thought hearing each other would be a good idea. It had just kept him from signing what documents he had needed to.

        He realized that he could not concentrate, not as he wanted to. Slowly, he made his way to the window. Peering out to see her, standing with his guards. Those that had been told to protect Feyre, to protect Rosehall. He had no idea how she had managed to convince them to allow her to train with them. He didn't know how she had learned when they trained.

        Though they were far from the house, he could still see her rather well. His sight was more advanced than any mere mortal's. He slightly wondered if it was more than a normal Fae's. Did the beast give him additional advantages? It wasn't something he liked to ponder. He would rather keep that side of him locked away. He didn't want anyone knowing that his family had been right.

        He was nothing but a beast.

        Lyriel, however, looked almost god-like as she stood in the middle of the circle. Her undone hair whipping wildly around her face, her eyes staring daggers into one of his men. A dagger in one hand and a sword in the other. He wondered briefly if she had trained to use her blades however she could. Or if she just liked how pointy they were.

        She lunged then, using the dagger to catch the guard off guard. He barely managed to get away, a slight nick appearing on his neck. Lyriel did not stop, her movements a deadly dance. She would block with her dagger or use it to create a distraction while using the sword to attack. Where in the hell had Kallias been hiding this woman? This weapon.

        Surely there was a reason for her brutality, the war that was brewing in her pine eyes. Her past was a mystery to him.

        He wanted it to remain so.

        Still, there was beauty in her destruction. He noticed how she breathed as she moved. Exhaling with a lunge, keeping her spine straighter than the sword she held in her hand. He wondered what it would take for her to break. Would he even want to see that?

        The guard managed to land a blow, his blade slicing into her left bicep.

        A growl began to form in Tamlin's stomach, his body reacting to the idea of another man harming the one person that he was meant to protect. He shoved it down. As far down as he possibly could. Yet, the slightest sound escaped him. At least it hadn't been a roar.

        He had no way of explaining that. A growl at least could have been his displeasure at the woman going against his instruction.

        "Tam." 

        The voice made him start. How in the hell had he missed them coming into the office? How long had they been watching him? His focus on Lyriel was far too distracting.

        Tamlin turned then, his green eyes narrowing as he looked over at Lucien. His friend was trying to hide a smirk. Trying and failing. And humans thought that the Fae were a tricky bunch. They were just assholes who could barely hide their amusement. Especially when it came to those they cared for.

        "Yes, Lucien?" He questioned, moving to sit back at his desk. The picture of the High Lord that everyone wanted to see. Just not what he had thought it would be.

        "We've received word from Cariaru," he stated casually as he moved to sit in the chair across from Tamlin. His legs went over the side, his metal eye roaming around the room as though he were looking for secrets. For the truths that Tamlin was hiding from everyone.

        "And?" Tamlin set up just a bit. His eyes lighting with a hint of excitement. Cariaru had been their insight into the Night Court ever since they had been freed from Under the Mountain. Her mate was one of Rhysand's inner circle. It had been an opening that they had all deemed somewhat worthy.

        After all, her mate did not seem interested in anyone but Rhysand's blonde cousin.

        "Rhys hasn't said a word about Feyre," Lucien casually looked towards the window, his metal eye stopping there. "But he is reaching out to other Lords. No doubt trying to do something to repair his reputation. Is Lyriel training?"

        "We'll let him be," he sighed softly, his hair falling into his eyes as he shook his head once. Getting Feyre out of whatever deal the two had made was much more important to him than Rhysand making amends or attempting to. They all knew what Rhys had done. What he was probably going to continue doing if he was given the chance. "Yes, I don't know who in the hell told her when they meet."

        "This is what happens when you steal soldiers. They tend to train." Lucien almost grinned at his friend, a twinkle in his russet eye. "Now, why did you steal her? Don't give me that emissary shit. She's no courtier."

        "That's all this is, Lucien." He did not find it hard to lie to his best friend. He knew that he should. He knew that he should hate himself for not sharing this with someone. But he just couldn't. He couldn't let anyone know about the horrible truth. He didn't want Feyre, most of all, to realize that they would never be a mated pair. They could love each other, they always would, but he would never be the man that was meant for her.

        Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was him being controlling. He didn't know. He didn't really care either. He and Feyre had been through the worst. No one else in this world could possibly understand what they had gone through.

        After all, no one else had stabbed him through the heart before.

        "Of course it is," his friend's eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on his face. If it were not for the scar on his face, Tamlin was certain that Lucien would have been the one that made people stop and stare. He still did. Just not for the reasons Tamlin wanted. "You were about to jump through the window when I came in. Did someone hurt her?"

        Lucien was too perceptive for his own good. It made Tamlin's stomach hurt. How would he explain this? How in the hell had he been careless enough to let Lucien figure this whole thing out? It didn't seem fair that he was struggling this hard. After everything, it should have been a closed book. The happily ever after should have played out. Instead, it seemed as though life was determined to drag out the difficulties. It seemed as though he was taking blow after blow. 

        "No," he was lying too much. He knew it would start to appear in his scent if he kept this damn thing out. "I'm just annoyed that she ignored me."

        "She's not your soldier, Tam."

        "She's in my court. That should count for something." Shouldn't it?

        "Something tells me that Lye listens to herself and no one else." The grin on his face was enough to make Tamlin's stomach twist in a very unpleasant way. Had something happened between the pair? Or was he just overreacting?

        "Lye?" His eyebrow twitched up slightly. "Since when do you have nicknames for strangers?"

        Lucien shrugged his broad shoulders. "She's not that strange. Besides, if she's going to be here for a while we might as well be friendly."

        The way he said it made Tamlin see red. He knew that Lucien would not do anything if he asked him to. But the thought that his friend might be looking at her at all made him want to kill him. Damn possessiveness. He had thought he was bad enough when it came to Feyre. But this was something new entirely.

        Even when Lucien had tried to kill Feyre, he had not been this upset. Although, that was also before he had fallen in love with the woman. The whole thing was a little convoluted and he didn't like to think of it too much.

        "Not too friendly, Lucien," he tried to sound casual, less tense as he spoke. "I don't need a child running around Rosehall just yet." He wanted to throw up as the words left his mouth. He hoped that his face did not give anything away. 

        "Calm down, Tamlin," he laughed lightly, brushing off whatever mood that his friend may have been in. "You know that I'm not that type of man."

        He shoved down the feelings of anger that were building in him, the feeling of his claws pressing against his fingernails. Keeping them inside hurt him more than he ever could explain. He didn't know why. His beast form had been so close to the surface for years, constantly fighting it back. Fighting to keep it down, keep it repressed. Just like everything.

        The Spring Court was beautiful but that didn't stop demons from plaguing his mind.

        You're yelling, the voice spoke before he had any chance to respond to Lucien. It's not helping my concentration.

        I'm not concerned about your concentration right now.

        You should be. I almost skewered one of your men.

        He tried to keep his face neutral, but one of his brows ticked up just slightly. He played it off by coughing, although he was certain that Lucien was staring at him as though he had just murdered someone in front of him. That or he could see the very voice that was inside of his head.

        Could Lucien do that? He knew the metal eye could see more than they knew, but surely it could not penetrate the mind. But what if? What if Lucien was drawing this out? What if he knew all along about this whole situation but had kept it to himself?

        "Send word to Cariaru," he coughed once more, trying to hide the tension in his voice. "I want more info on Rhysand's movements. Tell her to keep up with that shadowsinger as well. We haven't heard shit about him since she left us."         

        It frustrated him that they knew next to nothing about those in Rhysand's court. They knew his two cronies, Azriel and Cassian, but they didn't know enough. Not about their movements. Not about their plans. If this girl was the one way they could get that information, he would use her for all that she was worth. He just hoped they could bring her home before she wound up getting caught.

        Even she would not be able to hide from her mate forever.

        "She might be unwilling to give us any information about him," Lucien spoke gently, the truth of it was it might be more dangerous to spy on Azriel than it was to spy on Rhysand.

        "She'll do it. For the Spring Court," he said with a slight nod of his head. Even if he knew that he was potentially sending her to her death. He had faith in the girl. He knew she wouldn't get in over her head. At least, he hoped that she wouldn't.

        His conscious couldn't take any more failures.

        "I'll send word," Lucien moved to stand, his eyes roving to the window again. "Lyriel seems capable."

        Lucien turned on his heel and slipped out of the room without being dismissed. Tamlin wondered if he did that just to be annoying or if he had more pressing matters to attend to. Keeping an eye on their spy was somewhat important after all. Even if he did not think it should be the most important thing in the world right now.

        After all, he was in his own personal hell and no one seemed to notice. Well, no one but the woman who seemed to be in his mind. He had always thought he would never have to deal with that part of a bond. His parents had certainly never acted as though they could hear each other.

        It had to be another curse from the Mother. This whole thing seemed to be designed as a hell for Tamlin Rosehall. It made him sick to know that he had no chance of figuring any of this out. If he did, maybe he wouldn't be so pissed about the whole situation.

        Tamlin tried to focus on his correspondence once more, his eyes blurring as the words poured from his pen. Words weren't easy to come by. He'd been good at lewd poetry, but that had never translated to giving the other Lords updates about the Spring Court. Nor was he good at telling anyone he needed anything. There was a lot he would rather keep to himself. His dealings in his Court was one thing he wanted to keep to himself.

        He didn't need anyone knowing that he was still trying like hell to rebuild. Didn't want them to know that he was struggling to keep the people's faith in him.

        The only thing that kept the faith anymore was Feyre. It was another reason why he had to keep her safe, keep her protected. If he lost her he would lose himself. And the support of his people.

        It made him sick just to think of it.

        He blinked slowly, his eyes focusing on the words that had bled through the pages. When he didn't focus, he often forgot his own strength. When he allowed himself to fall into his thoughts he often forgot that he was stronger than most. That he needed to focus just to keep from breaking everything. Tamlin hated this. Hated being so different from everyone.

        It was a far cry from the life he had once dreamed of. He would never get to play the fiddle in a traveling band. But perhaps he would be able to play more often now. Things were calming down. Although, he was certain that Hybern would not allow the slaying of their greatest general to go unpunished.

        He supposed it was luck that the fae were so slow to change, to revenge. There was more time to plan, more time to figure out how to keep his people safe. Even if just thinking about it made him sick to his stomach.

        A soft grunt brought him out of his thoughts. The scent of evergreen, frozen berries, and blood filled the room, making something within him roar with the need to protect, to hold. To do something that would risk everything that he had built. He had to stifle that voice, had to shove it as far down as he possibly could. If only to keep his Court from falling into shambles.

        "How did you find out about training?" Tamlin questioned without looking up from his letters.

        "I just stuck around the barracks." She slid into the seat that Lucien had been in only an hour before. "Your general seemed amused to see a woman fighting."

        He looked up at her then, taking in her hair that was windswept. He could see the tangles, the small braids at her temple to keep some of it back. Her brow was dotted with sweat, her pulse beating rapidly enough to make him shift in his seat. There were purple bags underneath her eyes, she looked at though she had not slept. Despite this, her eyes were bright. The joy was something he had not seen from her before. Something he doubted he would see many times in their lives. The cut on her bicep had healed, nothing but a pink line on her snow-like skin.

        She did, however, have another cut on her left cheek that was still freely bleeding.

        Tamlin wanted to find the man who had done it to her. He wanted to find him and rip him limb from limb. How dare he lay a single finger on Lyriel? How dare anyone touch her without his express permission? Even if he would never give it to anyone.

        "You shouldn't be fighting," he repeated his words from the night before. "How long were you at the barracks?"

        "As soon as you left me last night." Lyriel shrugged her shoulders casually as she relaxed in the chair. "I doubted anyone would go against your wishes."

        "Yet you did."

        "You're not my High Lord," she pointed out with a quirk of her lips. "Besides, I thought I might keep things interesting between us. It'll help keep us from ... Accepting things."

        He could tell that she felt awkward just speaking those words. He knew that he felt the same way. He didn't want to deal with the beast inside of him but neither did he wish to deal with the thought of Lyriel. He would pick the beast over her any day.

        "You're still a guest in my Court," he pointed out with a sigh. Tamlin wondered if that meant anything to her. "That does mean you need to act with a bit of decorum. Or respect."

        It was the way that she shrugged her shoulders that made the smile burst from his lips. She had an air that he didn't know if he liked or not, but it was definitely amusing. More than it should have been.

        "Honestly, you can't expect me to change myself. You're marrying someone else, I'm going back to the Winter Court soon enough. I don't see any of this going the way it's supposed to." Her words were far less amusing than her actions.

        "How is supposed to go?" He prayed to the Mother she didn't say a damn word about his wedding. How could that be wrong? He and Feyre belonged together. The curse wouldn't have broken otherwise.

        "According to the Mother and the Cauldron and whoever else decided to fuck us," Lyriel began to play with one of the daggers that lined her body. He briefly wondered how many she had. "We're supposed to be the ones that are ... Involved." Her brow furrowed as she spoke, forming a crease between what he assumed would have been her eyebrows. They were so light that he wondered if they had ever grown.

        Had Kallias faced this same issue? Why was he focused so much on her eyebrows? The imperfection of them reminded him that she was real. Not just a figment of his imagination. 

        "You do know you can use the proper words, right?" Tamlin looked away from the crease and her not-there eyebrows. He looked instead into her eyes. The green that was a weird mix of light and dark. Iced over and yet fierce enough to burn him if she tried to do so.

        "That makes it far too real." Lyriel shifted once in her seat, the scent of blood becoming stronger as she moved.

        His stomach lurched with the urge to protect her, to bind her wound and make damn sure that no one would ever get that close to her again. Even if he knew that it was stupid. They were not going to do anything of the sort. Risking what he had built was not his intention. He knew that Lyriel was not worth it. Even if she was a high-ranking member of the Winter Court, no one could beat Feyre.

        Feyre's light shone brighter than any of theirs. He knew that she would outshine all of them for the rest of her life. He just hoped that he would get to be the one to stand beside her.

        He would be. He didn't care what he had to do to make sure of it.

        "What do you expect me to do, Lyriel?" Tamlin sighed softly as he looked away from her, not daring to show her how much he was contemplating his decisions. Or how much he wasn't. "Throw the Cursebreaker away? I can't do that."

        "Because you love her or because your Court needs her?" She knew how to cut him to the core. He wondered if she did this with everyone or if it was just because of the bond they were supposed to share.

        "Both," he would not lie about this. There was no reason. "She sacrificed herself to save me. Surely you understand that."

        "I do." The way she said it made him think that she did not. "I just don't quite understand why I'm here."

        "A show of good faith?" Tamlin did not believe his own words for a moment. "Kallias wouldn't have been pleased if the Winter Court had been excluded from the festivities."

        "He wouldn't have given a shit." 

        "Have you spoken to him?" If she had, maybe there was more use in having her stick around.

        She shifted once more, clearly uncomfortable with the question. "My Lord may give us orders from time to time but that doesn't mean I speak to him."

        So that was out of the question. What good was she if she could not even guarantee him the Winter Courts favor? Why did he need her around? He didn't know the answer to his questions. But he knew that he could not just throw her away. Not until he figured out how to rid himself of this bond. For good.

        "Go clean yourself, Lyriel." He did not watch as she slipped out of the room. He didn't want to see her leave.

#tamlin #tamlin x oc #tamlin x lyriel #lyriel is just here to give tamlin migraines #tamlin is a bastard #tamlin rosehall #Lyriel #lyriel chaeren #lyriel is a badass #feyre #feyre cursebreaker #feyre archeron #lucien #acotar #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of silver flames #affects canon #soulmate #mates #mate au #spring court #winter court #bastard x high lord #enemies to lovers

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire and Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter Three

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

        He went to answer, only to be shut down by Lyriel standing swiftly. He watched as she dropped into a bow that showed nothing but the utmost respect for the woman in front of her. He wondered briefly if she would ever show him the same courtesy.

        "Cursebreaker," her nose nearly touched the ground. He almost laughed. "It's an honor to meet you."

        Feyre's cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink as she watched the warrior. Tamlin loved seeing that shade cross her features. Although, normally it was him causing it to happen. 

        "Who exactly are you?"

        "Lyriel Chaeren, humbly at your service," she stood then, her spine straightening. She was taller than Feyre by a few inches. He hadn't noticed it until the two stood before you. "I'm here as an ambassador for the Winter Court. My Lord Kallias is busy rebuilding and cannot be in attendance for the wedding."

        The lie fell so easily from her lips that Tamlin nearly believed it. It did send a slight pang through his chest. How could she act as though she wasn't here for him? He had to remind himself that it was what he had wanted her to do. There was no reason at all to worry Feyre about something as silly as a mating bond.

        One that they would never share.

        "I see," Feyre glanced once at Tamlin. He shrugged his shoulders, deciding to play dumb. "Welcome to the Spring Court then. If you'll excuse me, I need to speak with Tamlin for a moment."

        "Of course, Cursebreaker." Either Lyriel didn't notice the look that crossed Feyre's face or she didn't care. He would guess it was the former. Lyriel didn't seem the type to make people uncomfortable for her own amusement.

        Tamlin stood from his chair, taking Feyre's hand when she offered it to him. The small woman led him into the hallway, her grip on his hand tightening just slightly. It almost hurt.

        "Who is she?" Her voice was strained, her eyes glancing back to the dining room that was far behind them.

        "As she said, she's an ambassador for the Winter Court." He hated to lie to her. He hated to do anything that would ever hurt her. But what else could he do? How could he put her through anything more?

        She deserved better than him.

        "Are you certain?" Her head tilted to the left just slightly. He had to keep himself from gently brushing a strand of hair that fell in her eyes. 

        "Feyre, she's here for our wedding. There's nothing to worry about. It was either that or make an enemy of the Winter Court." He explained with a slight smile that bordered on arrogance. "I've told you to let me handle these things. You've done everything you need to. You don't need to worry anymore."

        The look in her eyes sent a rush of pain through him. She was restless. He could tell from the nights she spent in terror, from the way she would look as though she wanted to run as fast as she could away from this place. He just kept holding her closer and closer though. He couldn't let her go. Could not see beyond his own grief and fear.

        Maybe if he could things would be better between them. He could not deny that he knew she was frustrated with him. Perhaps because of the upcoming marriage or because of the fact she would forever be known as the Cursebreaker. He wished that she was allowed to do more but he couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk her. She was everything to him. She had been from the moment he had seen her in that damn shack she called a cabin.

        "We'll be alright," he did brush her hair back this time. "I will keep you safe for the rest of our lives. I promise you."

        She nodded her head slowly, although he wasn't quite sure that she believed him.

        He kissed her forehead once. He tried to show her how much he cared for her in that one little kiss. As he watched her, he released her hand and began to turn away.

        "I need to go back in there before she and Lucien decide to get ... Friendly." Tamlin didn't like the implications that he was making. However, he also didn't want Feyre to think anything was amiss.

        He wanted to make this work on every front. Even if that wasn't possible.

        He had suffered enough. He deserved to have something go right in his life. He loved Feyre, he had found his mate. He knew that he couldn't have both. But couldn't he figure out a way to keep from losing either of them? Was that asking for too much when it came to the hells that he had been through?

        Trouble in paradise? Her voice nearly made him quit walking. He hadn't thought they'd be able to communicate through the bond until they had accepted each other. Apparently, he was wrong. That or she already had and he was unaware of it.

        Everything is perfectly fine. Thank you for your concern. It felt odd to speak to her in this fashion. It was an intimate affair that he had never thought he would have. He felt closer to her than he had to anyone else in his long life. That alone was dangerous. He didn't think he should be that close to anyone.

        Lucien's quite nice, but he seems less certain of this story than Feyre.

        Lucien knows me too well.

        I see. 

        Just don't say anything until I return. She didn't reply. For a brief moment, he missed it. Missed hearing her voice and hearing that chime-laugh in his head. 

        Mother above he was going to end up doing something stupid if they didn't figure this out. Maybe he would just banish her and be done with it. Although that seemed dramatic even for him. Perhaps he could just get what he could from her and then deny their bond.

        He didn't want to. Cauldron knew he would rather keep her around. If only to see what would happen. He was quite curious how she and Feyre would get along. 

        He quickly shoved those thoughts to the back of his head. She had just come to Rosehall. The last thing he needed to do was think of how to be rid of her. Besides, he didn't even really know her yet. He would give it some time. Until the wedding. Then he would decide just what he would do.

        Tamlin slipped back into the dining room, shocked at what he saw.

        Lucien and Lyriel were speaking as though they were friends. Actual friends. 

        Lyriel's finger was lightly running across the lip of her cup, he could smell the spiced wine from there, and was speaking casually about her life at the Winter Court. She didn't look at Tamlin as he sat back down.

        "We've been building up the southern wall and trying to get more recruits," she shrugged her shoulders. He could hear several blades clanging together. He briefly wondered where in the hell she kept them all. It was not a question he should ask.

        "Recruits?" Lucien's metal eye whirred around, glancing at Tamlin and then at Lyriel.

        "Amarantha wiped a majority of our forces out. Surely you've heard this." Lyriel's brow furrowed slightly. He tried not to notice the little crinkles that it caused by her eyes. He didn't need to notice that.

        "No. From what we knew the Winter Court was ... Well ... Struggling in other ways." 

        Lyriel's face darkened, her hands leaving the table. He didn't know what she was doing but he could see the pain flashing behind her eyes. Briefly, he worried that Lucien had overstepped. Had she lost someone in the massacre? She was old enough to bear children.

         "We are," she stated, glaring down at the plate in front of her. "But I shouldn't be speaking of this. Kallias'll have my head if I reveal too much."

        Despite it being a joke the way she spoke showed just how much respect she had for her High Lord. She almost glowed with adoration for the man. It sent a blade of agony through Tamlin's heart. Did she love him? Had she wanted to be something more than a soldier for the man? His stomach churned at the very thought.

        One day, he would ask her about this. He would ask her about her life. What had she been through? What horrors had she seen? He knew that it was none of his business. He knew that he would never get to that point where he would want to share his own horrors. What made him think that she would gladly tell him everything?

        He wasn't completely stupid. He knew that things between them were going to be strained for as long as Feyre was around. As long as he wanted both there was a strong likelihood that he would end up with neither.

        He just wouldn't face that reality.

        Tamlin cleared his throat once, finally drawing her attention away from Lucien. "Would you like to see your room?"

        Lyriel looked at him for a moment before nodding her head slowly.

        He stood, nodding his head once to suggest that she follow him. He turned without bothering to check that she would and strode out of the room. He kept his head held high and his stride long as he headed up the winding staircase. 

        Lyriel slipped beside him as silent as a wraith. He kept this in mind for later. He didn't exactly want her sneaking up on him later on.

        "When do your men train?" Her question caught him off guard. He knew that she was a soldier, this had been the reason behind bringing her to his home. But he had not expected her to bring up anything of the sort while she was in his court.

        "Why?" His tone was filled with uncertainty. He hated himself for it.

        "If I'm to be here long, I would prefer to keep my skills sharp." The way she looked at him was as though he was an idiot. The biggest she had ever seen before. 

        "That's not appropriate, Lyriel." If word got out that he allowed his mate to fraternize with his men ... He didn't want to think of the consequences that would show. He would be seen as weak. Or worse. "You're supposed to be here as Kallias' ambassador. You'll be spending a majority of your time with me."

        Her cheeks heated to a lovely shade of pink. He doubted it was there because of embarrassment or arousal as it was with Feyre. Her eyes were a darker shade of icy green than he had seen before. She clenched her fists as though she was about to swing at him. 

        While he doubted that she could do much (if any) damage to him he did not wish to test this theory any time soon. 

        "I take it that you'll be the one I spar with then?"

        He laughed, a light sound that seemed to echo along the walls instead of his usual deep rumble. "Of course not. That would be more inappropriate than you sparring with my guards."

        "And why is that?" One of her brows arched as she looked at him. He swallowed drily as the two reached the landing of the second floor.

        "You may not have noticed but women don't fight in the Spring Court." Tamlin looked down the bridge of his nose at her, showing her just how respected women were in his court with a single look. "We would prefer our women to be flower-like."

        "That doesn't make any damned sense." Her words came out in a snap. "Women are just as capable of wielding a blade as a man. Your precious flowers have thorns, My Lord." 

        The title was not said with respect. She put all the venom she could muster into the word. Briefly, he thought that he would have preferred to be slapped. At least that would have hurt less.

        "Lyriel, please," he wanted to rub his temples but figured that would be allowing her to win. "You're not to spend any time sparring with any of my men. Nor should you ask Lucien. Just stay quiet and away from attention. I don't want there to be questions about you and your arrival."

        He didn't need anyone to find out what he wished to hide. He didn't need anyone to see her and make a connection they shouldn't. It made him feel sick to his stomach to think of anyone finding out the secret they were trying to conceal from even themselves. At least, he was trying to.

        "You're going to have to learn to accept me," she stated stubbornly. "I can't imagine your blushing bride feels the same way."

        His worry turned to rage at her words. How dare she assume how Feyre felt about this? He clenched his hands into fists, trying to keep the beast from surfacing. He hated to show that side of himself. Hated that he could not control his rage. Tamlin's emotional state had always been something that he worried about. He wasn't in control. He knew that better than anyone. But what could he do about it?

        "Feyre understands what she needs to do. What's expected of her." His voice came out as a growl. He could feel the fangs beginning to shove out from his gums. He could taste the blood beginning to pool in his mouth from it.

        "And what is that exactly?" Lyriel either did not notice his anger or didn't care. At this point, he was beginning to assume it was the latter. The fire in her eyes did not dim, the air around her was growing colder. "Sitting around and having no say in her life? Do you expect anyone to be happy with that?"

        "Lyriel," he growled out, pain lacing his features as his fingernails were replaced with claws. While the shift could take no time at all, it was always painful. Painful but he felt oh so powerful when it happened. Now if only it gave him that sense of control that he craved. "Now is not the time to discuss this."

        Her eyes seemed to glaze over, more ice than evergreen. "I think this is the perfect time for this discussion. You want a wife to sit and be pretty. Surely it makes sense that your ma-"

        She didn't get the word out. He exploded before she could, sending bits of banister towards her as his body took the form of the beast that he so quickly had become. The walls were scratched, his claws having raked over them as he let out a roar of frustration. Not once turning it on Lyriel.

        None of the debris hit her. A dome of ice had come over her, shielding her from the explosion of wood. The dome encased him as well. The cold seeped into his fur, chilling him to the bone. 

        Her eyes locked onto his. His heartbeat slowly began to slow, the beast losing the hold over him as he came to his senses. He wanted to scream. To cry out in pain. He had known of her for less than a week and already he had lost control in front of her. He needed to be better. He needed to be stronger.

        "Sorry," he gasped out, his body in pain and his mind still reeling from what he had done. "I'm sorry. I didn't ... I couldn't."

        "It's alright," her voice was shaky, her hands clammy from the use of her magic. Or from her fear of him. He didn't know. "I was pushing you."

        "It's been a long time since anyone's done that." He admitted, glancing once at the dome that surrounded them. Pure ice. He could see small cracks from where the wood had hit it but otherwise, it was perfect. He was certain it would have kept out anything that had been thrown at her. Perhaps even himself. 

        "I can't imagine why." She cracked a slight smile, although he was certain that she would not trust him after that. He could have killed her. 

        "How are you doing this?" He asked, one finger reaching out to touch the ice. It was solid, cold to the touch. Considering it was ice that was a safe judgment to make regardless.

        "I just thought about keeping you from hurting yourself. It's not a big deal," she admitted, releasing the shield with a slight flick of her wrist. He knew that she didn't need the hand motions but they more than likely made her control easier.

        "I've never seen someone do that before," Tamlin admitted as he looked at her. She didn't look as tired as he would assume. A small bead of sweat dripped from her temple but he would assume that was from the heat of the Spring Court.

        "The Winter Court has many secrets," Lyriel brushed him off. It was obvious he would not get to speak with her about this. 

        Had Kallias been hiding a powerhouse from them? Had she been able to do that for a while? Perhaps it was a new development that Kallias had no clue about. Or, the most reliable answer, she was powerful in order to keep up with him. Some thought that mates were equals in every way. Tamlin had never believed that. His parents had painted a picture that was vastly different than that assessment.

        "I'll, uh, take you to your room. Allow you to freshen up if you wish," he bowed his head awkwardly before he walked to the end of the hallway. The room was as far from his and Feyre's as physically possible. 

        He opened the door and allowed her in, staring ahead as he did so. The room was on the smaller side but the bed was one of the softest and the walls seemed to match the color of her eyes. He hoped that she would be comfortable but he wasn't certain if she would see it as an insult or not.

        He didn't know why it would have been. Perhaps because of the size.

        "I hope it's to your liking." 

        "It's perfect," she wandered into the room as she spoke. She seemed to be taking in everything she possibly could. "Thank you, Tamlin."

        He nodded once more as he took in the sight of her in the room. She stood tall, regal even. The room seemed to be smaller when she stood in it. She commanded the very room. More than he had ever thought that she would.

        He quickly left the room, heading to his office. He had to stop this. Had to stop worrying about what she had seen from him already. He couldn't let this affect how he handled things. Nor could he let her cloud his judgment. He was focusing on Feyre. Focusing on their wedding and what he would do to make her feel more at home. Maybe that was where Lyriel could come in. If he could make that warrior feel at home in his court he could do the same to anyone.

        Any way he went about this would end up with him using Lyriel. He didn't know if that was a good thing or not. Surely, it wasn't the safest thing to do. If she could make a shield of pure ice surely she could do more ... Interesting things with her magic. Things that would end with him being frozen solid or his court never being able to come back from a blow she dealt.

        He would have to go about this very carefully.

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfic #tamlin #tamlin x oc #tamlin x lyriel #lyriel is just here to give tamlin migraines #tamlin is a bastard #lyriel chaeren #lyriel is a badass #feyre cursebreaker #Lucien #spring court #winter court #Female warrior #mates #soulmate #corsets and leather pants #lyriel owns a lot of knives #ice magic

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire & Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter Two

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

        The next two days were the most nerve-racking of his life. He had never had trouble with women, nor had he had an issue with bringing people to the Spring Court. It was just knowing that he was bringing an unknown variable into his and Feyre's life that was making him feel as though he was going to be sick to his stomach.

        Feyre had been through so much lately. She had gone up against Amarantha, had been through hell and back, and still was finding it hard to sleep. How could he dare bring someone else into their home? Someone that could potentially ruin all that they had? He felt rather selfish. He felt as though he shouldn't be doing any of this.

        And yet he knew it would be the biggest mistake of his life if he just let Lyriel go.

        She stood in the entryway of the palace, a bag over her shoulder and her fingers clenching and unclenching. She looked as if she would be more comfortable with a dagger in her hand. With any sort of weapon really. He briefly wondered if he should be afraid of her, but the thought nearly made him laugh.

        He was a warrior. Born and bred. A beast with no control over his temperament nor over how he was perceived by the people around him. He didn't need to be afraid of a girl with snowy hair and a lean build. He doubted she'd even be able to scratch him.

        "Are you ready?" Lyriel looked over her shoulder at him, anxiety written in her evergreen eyes. "Or are we just going to stand here all morning?"

        Her tone was enough to drive him mad. He wondered how anyone could stand to hear that condescending voice of hers. Or was that saved for him? Surely Kallias would have said something about it by now. He wouldn't have let it go on for this long.

        "Have you ever winnowed before?" He questioned, one eyebrow-raising as he looked down at her.

        She was not a short woman. Not by any means. He just seemed to tower over everyone he came across. Even if he hadn't been the biggest of his brothers, he was still a tall man.

        "I haven't had the pleasure," she said stiffly, her fingers continuing that clenching movement. He wondered briefly if it was a nervous habit. If it was, he wanted to know where it had come from. 

        He scowled at the thought. He shouldn't give a damn about anything that she did. He and Feyre, that was what mattered. Feyre was the only woman he needed. The only one he would ever want. He was just bringing Lyriel back in order to see what he could get out of their bond. If there was anything he could even get. 

        "Just close your eyes and it'll be over before you know it," he stated as he wrapped one arm around her waist. His grip was a tad bit tighter than it had to be, his fingers digging into her hip. He could feel the dagger she had strapped there. He doubted it was the only weapon on her person. She had to have multiple hidden on her. After all, she had reeked of muck and blood when they had first met.

        He could still smell the scent of blood on her. He wondered if it had just become a part of her at this point.

        Tamlin closed his eyes, picturing the gardens of Rosehall in his mind's eye. He could smell the overwhelming scent of roses, the lilies that had just begun to bloom. He could hear the birds chirping happily and the splash of the fountains. Home. All of it was his home. The only place he had ever felt as though he didn't have to hide who he was. Even if that had really only been a recent development.

        The pair were swept up in a wind that smelled like roses, the same scent that made him feel so at ease. 

        His eyes opened as his feet touched the sweeping grounds in front of his manor home. He quickly released Lyriel, stepping away from her and clearing his throat once.

        "Welcome to Rosehall," he stated as he began to walk towards the door. He didn't give himself a second to look back at her reaction to the place.

        However, that did not stop him from hearing it.

        "It's boiling here," she complained as she followed him into the house. "I've never seen so many flowers in one place either." He had no clue if it was a complaint or something more.

        "Yes, yes, it's a lovely place," Tamlin spoke as he led her to the dining room. He barely gave her time to look over the large, beautiful manor. It was less extreme than the ice palace of the winter court. Yet, he was certain it was better in every single way. He doubted that anything in the world could be better than Rosehall. He doubted anything could be better than the Spring Court.

        He turned his head to speak to her, just in time to watch her strip off the fur-lined sweater that she wore. He almost gulped at the sight. However, that would have been the stupid thing to do. Instead, he just glared at her.

        "What do you think you're doing?"

        "I'm hot," Lyriel stated as she shoved the sweater into the bag that now rested on the floor beside her. The satchel was just worn brown leather. It could have held anything in the world. Yet, it more than likely held all her worldly possessions. He was somewhat surprised to see her lay it so carelessly on the floor. "I didn't realize how ... Warm the Spring Court was going to be."

        He nearly laughed at that. "Did you expect it to be cold?"

        "I wasn't sure what to expect, really," she admitted, seeming rather unsure as she spoke. Her fingers were no longer clenching and unclenching. Instead, she had gripped the dagger that she had hidden underneath that sweater. He could now see that several weapons were lining her hips and her corset. She had also managed to strap one to each bicep. That seemed to be where the faint scent of blood was coming from.

        There was a dried spot of blood dotting her right bicep. It looked as though she had been in a rush when hiding her knives. He tried not to find it endearing.

        "We'll have to get you appropriate clothing then," he stated as she began to survey the room. He could see her counting the exits and seeing where she was safest. He briefly wondered if she assumed that he would just let her die in his household. He doubted that would be a good look for him after all. "I don't think it would be appropriate for you to walk around like that."

        Lyriel turned around in time to watch his gesture toward her clothing. The leather pants and corset weren't exactly Spring Court fashion. The fur-lined knee-high boots did not help either. 

        Even if it did look rather fetching on her.

        "I don't see myself staying here long," Lyriel stated as she looked away from him. He hated that she didn't keep looking at him. It seemed as though she found the dining table more interesting than him. "Once your blushing bride realizes who I am I doubt she'll want me around."

        "She'll probably want you around to keep me from annoying her too much," Tamlin was shocked by his own words. Feyre had never complained about how he treated her. At least not really. He just didn't know why he had said it. Perhaps he had just wanted Lyriel to laugh. Or perhaps he was just trying to make her feel more comfortable around him.

        At least then he could get her to tell him just what he could gain from her.

        "That's doubtful," she stated, releasing her hold on the dagger on her hip. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring at him with those pine eyes. It sent a chill down his spine, making him wonder if she was someone that he should have brought into his home. "No, she'll ask me to get out of here. Just like you will when you're done with me."

        Tamlin raised an eyebrow at her words, shocked that she had read him so well so soon. He worried that she had a way into his mind. The bond couldn't let her see everything. Could it?

        "What exactly do you mean by that, Lyriel?"

        "Well, you're clearly in love with her. I'm probably just here so you can figure out how best to ignore whatever this thing," she waved her hand between the two of them, "is." 

        He shook his head slightly as he listened to her words. Just because they were true didn't mean he was going to admit to it. "Right," he said as he looked over at her. "I think you're a little too concerned about this."

        She rolled her eyes, looking away from him once again. He didn't know why it hurt him so much when she did that. Was he that unlovable? The one person who was always supposed to love him seemed to want nothing more than to look away from him. To be as far from him as possible.

        His stomach clenched at the very thought. There was nothing that either of them could do about it either.

        "I think you're not telling yourself the truth," she stated as she took a seat that was normally Feyre's. He wanted to snap at her to move, but he knew better. 

        For now, he was playing the role of the sweet man. The one who was a friend and an ally to her. If only so they could figure out this whole mess and he could get everything out of this. The Winter Court wouldn't dare go against him if he had a political alliance because of a mate. It was the best of both worlds and he knew it.

        He just hoped it didn't all blow up in his face.

        Tamlin sank into his normal seat at the head of the table, straight across from Lyriel. Although the table had been stretched out by nearly six feet, keeping her far from him. He waved his hand once and food appeared on the long table. The smells of roasted chicken and pork wafted into the hallway.

        Lyriel's stomach gave a loud growl. Tamlin almost laughed at the sound.

        "Does Kallias not feed you?" He questioned as he began to make himself a plate. He didn't particularly care what he grabbed. Steamed mushrooms in a dark gravy spread over his roast chicken, a small mound of mashed potatoes were seated beside a bed of leafy greens that smelled of roasted garlic and olive oil. He had ignored the pork entirely. It was only there for Lucien and they all knew it.

        "He did," she stated as she piled her plate high. He had never seen anyone take so many rolls before. She had piled five that he could see on top of her assorted meats and other goodies. "I just didn't get the chance to eat breakfast. And I pulled the late shift last night, so I missed dinner."

        Tamlin's eyebrow rose in surprise as he listened to her. Surely that should not have happened if she was someone important. Although, Lucien had missed a few meals because of sentry duty and emissary duties. All things that he could see her doing. He just had to hope he was right about this whole thing. "How often does this happen?"

        "Not often," she said a bit too quickly. She refused to look at him, biting almost savagely into a roll that she had stuffed with chicken, pork, and the leafy greens. She let out a noise that he had only ever heard Feyre utter in the bedroom after she took her first bite. 

        Tamlin tried not to think of how she looked so happy, so pleased. Just to eat. It reminded him far too much of when Feyre had first come to Rosehall. When they had first fallen in love.

        Thankfully, he was not left alone with Lyriel. If he had been, he would have said or done something stupid in no time. Lucien strolled in, his eyes focused on the food instead of on their guest. 

        "You stayed later than I thought you would," Lucien stated as he sank down into a chair on Tamlin's left side. 

        "I had more business to attend to," Tamlin nodded once towards Lyriel, Lucien's metal eye whirled until it found her. A shocked expression came across his face upon seeing the Winter Court soldier.

        "You stole a soldier?" Lucien questioned, causing the girl to glare at him. Lyriel's evergreen gaze was full of unbridled rage and heat. Enough that it would have scared the shit out of Tamlin had it been on her. If only he would have known that she would soon enough turn that gaze on him multiple times a day.

        "No one stole me," she stated before taking a long sip of a dark red wine that was a specialty of the Spring Court. It tasted of berries and sunshine, magically enhanced by some of the other lords. It was Tamlin's favorite vintage. "He asked me to come and I agreed. We have some business together. Nothing more and nothing less."

        She was a good liar. He would have to keep that information in his back pocket.

        "I see," Lucien's normal eye was now locked on Lyriel while the metal one narrowed at Tamlin. The High Lord of the Spring Court was always unnerved when his friend turned his metal gaze upon him. Although he would never in his life admit to that. He didn't want Lucien to know that anything about him was frightening. 

        Lyriel did not look away from Lucien's stare, her eyes every bit as focused as Lucien's. It was somewhat distracting to watch the two of them just staring each other down. Tamlin briefly wondered if he needed to clear the table. If a brawl were to break out he didn't exactly want to have to deal with the scent of roasted pork clinging to the drapes. 

        Lyriel looked away after a moment, turning her attention to her meal instead of to either of the men sitting before her.

        "Have you seen Feyre yet?" Lucien asked Tamlin, his own attentions brought back to the food. Although Tamlin highly doubted that his truest friend would quit questioning why Lyriel was even there. Nor would he tell Lucien the truth. He wouldn't say a word to anyone about it. They didn't need to know. 

        Not now. Not ever.

        "I just got in," he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "I was going to see her after I ate. I thought it would be for the best."

        "Ianthe's got her looking over wedding plans again. I think she might start to go mad if she has to look at any more though." Lucien stated as he cut a piece of the pork with his dagger.

        "Ianthe's more excited about this than any of us," he pointed out with a slight smile. "It's been far too long since we've had anything to celebrate." 

        Tamlin was eager to spend the rest of his life with Feyre. She was the moon and the stars. She was all that he had ever wanted, all he would ever want. He wasn't sure how he had ever doubted Feyre. When they had first met, he had been sure that she would never in her life want anything to do with him. He had been certain that she would wind up killing him in the middle of the night. But instead she had gone out and risked her life for him. He was somewhat scared that she would wise up and leave him after she found out she could do better.

        Perhaps that was why he had decided to keep her at the Spring Court for as long as physically possible. There was too much cause for him to be rather scared that she would end up vanishing before his eyes. 

        Not only that but it was easier to keep track of her that way. He didn't have to worry about that insane dealing she had made with Rhysand either. Lucien had been doing his best to find the answers at the Day Court, but so far they had found absolutely nothing. Rhysand hadn't shown up either. That in itself was enough to cause Tamlin to grow concerned. Something was brewing. Something that he just didn't quite understand.

        "And what of the Winter Court?" Lucien asked as he looked over at Lyriel. Tamlin could always count on him to attempt to be friendly. Friendly enough for both of them.

        "We've celebrated as much as we can considering..." She trailed off, suddenly picking at her food instead of devouring it as she had been.

        Tamlin cleared his throat once as Lucien paled slightly. "Stupid question, don't mind him. He doesn't think before speaking."

        Lucien shot him a glare. "You'll find that I'm not the only one like that in the Spring Court."

        Lyriel almost smiled at that. He noticed the slight twitch of her lips, the way she had exhaled slightly harder than before. She was either amused or annoyed. Either way, he was going to count it as a good thing. He hoped that he could have a good thing happen at least once a day. Or a week depending on if they even saw each other that often.

        "So, I take it you two are friends," she nodded once between the pair as she continued to casually pick at her plate. He doubted that they should have brought up celebrations within the Winter Court. Those loses had been far too great. Nearly the greatest cost in any of the Courts. Actually, it probably had been.

        "Lucien is my right hand. He helps me run the Spring Court," he introduced the metal-eyed man.

        "Among other things," Lucien smirked slightly before taking a sip of his rich, red wine. "I'm more curious on who you are though."

        "Lyriel Chaeren," she said as she looked at Lucien once more. She kept her eyes on the man, not backing down. Tamlin wondered if she backed down from anything. "And we aren't friends. As I said before, we have business together. Hopefully, it will be dealt with by the wedding. I wouldn't want to impose."

        Tamlin could read between the lines. She didn't want to stick around and see him marry someone else. He couldn't blame her. Although, he didn't want to deal with her disappearing from his life. It was a weird thing to be a mated man. He couldn't deny that he wanted her to be near him. Nor could he deny that he wanted to forget that this whole thing had happened. He couldn't hurt Feyre like that. Not when she had risked everything to be with him. Not when he had fallen so in love with her that it physically hurt him to think of her in a dangerous situation.

        He was trapped in a cycle that he had no idea how to get out of. It was almost worse than being stuck in that godsforsaken mask for all those years. At least he had known there was a way to get out of that. All he could do now was hope and pray that he could manage this without too much difficulty. 

        Lucien looked between the pair, feeling the tension between them. It was somewhat concerning to see how Lyriel was staring down at her plate as if it had insulted her family name. She looked as though she would attack it with any of the multitudes of blades strapped to her body. Tamlin didn't dare believe that he could see all of them. She was prepared for anything. Maybe a bit too prepared.

        Yet, she was not the only one who was tense at that moment. Tamlin was gripping the arms of his chair, his claws close to the surface. He kept them in. Kept himself from going into that rage monster that he knew he was as he did not want Lucien to know that something was so wrong.

        It had absolutely nothing to do with not wanting to scare Lyriel. 

        He would go to his grave saying that he didn't care if he scared Lyriel or not. She was nothing to him. Despite the ache in his chest to be near her. Despite the fierce need that he felt in order to protect him. He shoved those feelings as far down as he possibly could. If only to keep himself from ruining everything that he had built in this court. Lyriel was not going to ruin him. Lyriel was not going to be the downfall of the Spring Court.

        As of now, they were the most important court in all of Prythian. They were the ones responsible for ending Amarantha. Well, Feyre was responsible. But she belonged to Tamlin which meant she belonged to his court. He wouldn't let a soldier ruin the acclaim they had so recently received.

        The door opened. With it came the scent of stars and the woods in the middle of the night. Feyre. His Feyre.

        She waltzed into the room, Tamlin's eyes never leaving her tall, willowy frame. She stopped only feet from the table, her brow creasing slightly as she took in the Fae woman sitting in her normal spot. Feyre's eyes traveled over Lyriel's shoulders, her cleavage, and as far as she could see. He could tell she was counting each and every blade that Lyriel possessed.

        "Tam," her voice was a song that had never been sung so beautifully. A song he yearned to learn to play. "Who is this?"

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of war and ruin #a court of mist and fury #acotar fanfic #tamlin #oc #spring court #winter court #tamlin is a bastard #lyriel is a badass #female warrior #corsets and leather pants #mates #feyre #rhysand #lucien