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mika-no-sekai-blog · 5 months

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Word count: 1400+

Warnings: mentions of blood, depression, description of wound

In books there's no mention of Tamlin being able to winnow, but for the sake of story, let's pretend he can, okay?😉

Part II

You lived in a small cottage deep in the woods of Spring Court, far away from other fae. It wasn't like you hated them, they hated you. Most of the creatures living in this area avoided you, believing you had quite great powers and vicious nature, cursing anybody who crossed your way.

The rumours couldn't be further from the truth, but it didn't bother you what they said about you. You loved silence, enjoying every second of your lonely life in the heart of the nature.

You had several friends that used to stop by from time to time and brought you news, so you heard about everything that happened to your High Lord. You heard rumours about him going crazy, spending his days devastating his land in a form of horrific monster. You heard that fae ran away from this doomed Court. Last of your friends came to bid you farewell just few days ago trying to convince you to run away too. But why should you?

You lived alone, not caring about the outside world. You didn't care about what's happening out there, you didn't care about your High Lord nor the upcoming war. It had no meaning in your life. Feelings like hate, fear or love were just words with no particular meaning. And so the time passed slowly.

Fresh morning air brought smell of rain through the open window. Last night rained and the sound of raindrops on the roof of cottage lulled you to sleep. With bright smile you got up, changed and cleaned your room. Today it should be a nice sunny day. The intoxicating scent of flowers beckoned you out. Quickly you ran through your herb stocks and made a list of missing ones. You took small basket and went out to collect what you needed. Birds sang above your head as you bent down to tear off some chamomile flowers.

A roar thundered through the forest, making all birds fling away. You looked around with caution. Another roar shook the trees. And another. Now you knew where it was coming from. Quickly, but quietly you ran in that direction. It's in your nature to help to those who needed it. And this with no doubt sounded like somebody needed your help.

You ran up a hill ending in a cliff. And there down in a narrow valley on the other bank of small stream was lying the biggest beast you'd ever seen. Body of bear, head of wolf with antlers, his eyes were clenched in pain. On his side you could see deep wound, blood flowed in thin rivulets into the water. You didn't waste a second, climbed down and ran to its side. As you got closer, the beast opened its eyes and looked at you with a growl, showing off rows of sharp fangs. You halted and held up your hands.

"It's okay. You see? I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you. Will you let me take a look?" you spoke to the beast in a soothing voice as you slowly step by step got closer. The beast growled again, but it put its head back on the ground. Green eyes never left yours, watching you with caution. Slowly you bent down. "Can I?" you gestured to the wound. It took few heartbeats, but the beast nodded slightly.

You knelt down between enormous paws, trying to ignore the dagger-like claws that could turn you into shreds of flesh in less than minute and examined the wound. It was so deep you could see its bones and even though it'd already begun to heal, it had to be treated. You bit down your lower lip. You needed to get the beast to your cottage, but it's too big and couldn't walk on its own in this state.

"It's quite deep. I need bandages and salve, but I don't have it all with me now. I'd need to go home. You are too big and heavy, so I can't take you with me.." you started to explain.

"Where?" a male's voice rasped.

"What?" you questioned, not sure if you really heard it.

The beast blinked. "Where?"the voice repeated with great effort. You lips parted in surprise.

"Well.. My cottage is about a kilometer to the north east from here."

"'Know the place," it breathed out. "Hold on to me."

You weren't so stupid to think, it's a real speaking beast. If nothing else, its eyes gave you enough hint. Of course, it's a high fae, a shape-shifter. And it seemed he could even winnow, so you did as he told you and took his paw with both of your hands. In a blink of an eye you were back in your cottage. Your head spun after the winnow, but you ignored it. Quickly you brought everything you could need and started to work on him. After few minutes the wound was bandaged and bleeding had stopped as well.

"I'm done," you announced. "It will take some time to completely heal. You can stay here until you will be able to move again." You wiped your hands clean while the beast just was laying, eyes narrowed, lost in his thoughts. He didn't seem to be in pain anymore. "Would you like something to drink?" you asked him gently, peeking on him.

His eyes concentrated on you once again, roaming around your face and then down your body. There was so much sadness in them. He just shook his head. "So I will let you take some rest," you nodded. "If you change your mind or it hurts you, tell me." The beast snorted and his eyes once again stared into the distance, returning to whatever he was thinking about before.

Several days passed since you found the wounded beast and brought him to your cottage. He didn't want to eat nor drink and that made you worry. He didn't speak, answering you only with small nods, his gaze was unfocused. He just lay on the floor where he winnowed to, like a lifeless object, stuffed animal. Even his wound was closing slower than it should.

You believed that everything had its time. If he wanted to talk about what bothered him, he would already say something. It wasn't your place to stick your nose into other's troubles. But still you were worried about him. You even heard him cry in his sleep last night.

Every day you checked on his wound, applied the salve and wrapped it into clean bandages and today wasn't different. Before, you let him be after tending the wound, but not today. He needed help and you were more than ready to offer your help even though he didn't ask for it.

You made him tea and set the bowl in front of him. It would be easier if he turned back into his normal form, but it couldn't be helped. Maybe he was too weak to do so. You sat down next to him and in silence ran your fingers through the fur on his shoulder. He sighed and closed eyes. You didn't talk, just continued to stroke his shoulder. After few minutes he dipped his tongue in the bowl and drank a bit. His sad green eyes turned to you, watching you carefully.

"You don't have to do this," he rasped.

"I know," you answered gently. He huffed. His eyes roamed around the room as if it was the first time he noticed.

"For vicious witch, you live quite peacefully. Silently I'd say." Now it's time for you to huff.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"Everyone runs from this doomed Court. Why don't you do so too? Aren't you scared of High Lord?" His voice sounded so empty, without any feelings.

"I don't care about what's happening out there," you answered evasively.

"Hmm," he hummed. "Did you hear about his fiancée and the best friend? They ran away from him too. He certainly must be a monster." He watched you out of the corner of his eye.

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I've never met him. I would prefer to make my own opinion on him."

"I see," he drank some more of the tea and then stayed silent. His eyes were again sad and unfocused and you didn't press him more. However you continued to caress his fur without thinking. Soon enough his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

He slept for the rest of the day. You checked on him before going to the bed, but he was still fast asleep curled up into a ball. That night he seemed to rest peacefully without any haunting dreams.

In the morning when you came down, he was gone.

#tamlin #tamlin x reader #tamlin x you #tamlin acotar #tamlin fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar #spring court #high lord tamlin #high lord of spring court #sarah j maas #tamlinweek #tamlin week #pro tamlin #tamlin angst

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thisblogisaboutabook · 6 days

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Spring Fever

Tamlin x Reader - Smut - Angst - Fluff

After an outburst directed toward an unwanted visitor, a resident of Tamlin’s manor prepares to face the consequences of her actions but the High Lord has something else in mind.

warnings: smut, language

Moonlight and night air filtered through the edges of the pastel velvet curtains as the beat of my racing heart overtook the silence of my bedchamber. Seated at the edge of the large four-poster bed in my now permanent room, I took steadying breaths. In. Hold. Out. Hold. Repeat.

Who was I to have shown anything less than reverence to the High Lord of the Night Court? To his credit - in his own fucked up way - he’d tried to help Tam out of the stupor he’d spent years in but the male had been through so much already. How could the face of the mate of the love of his life bring any peace to his already broken soul?

These visits always ruined what small progress Tamlin had made. I tried to remain calm but damn it - Tamlin had finally stopped curling up outside of my door at night, on alert for any hidden threats. He’d given me a genuine smile on a stroll through the gardens just this morning. He’d even cooked this evening. Yes, a simple meal of roast venison and root vegetables, but a meal nevertheless. He was making progress and as if he sensed it, Rhysand showed up to “check in” on Tamlin right after dinner.

And just like that, Tamlin’s demeanor crumpled. I couldn’t take it anymore, the irreverence toward my mate’s own trauma. My temper rose to a point of no return, pouring out as spewed vitriol very unbecoming of a lady in the manor of a High Lord.

To his credit, Rhysand only eyed me with intrigue and didn’t mist me on the spot after I suggested he take his “good intentions” and shove them up his ass and showed him the door.

Tamlin only eyed me with an unreadable expression and requested that I stay behind while he escorted the Night Court’s High Lord from the estate.

Deciding against pressing my luck further I exited the foyer and saw myself to my chambers where I now sat waiting for the inevitable lecture, hell, maybe he’d kick me out. I only lived here out of his generosity. His tolerance of me certainly spurred on by the unaccepted mating bond that snapped when the magic chose me on Calanmai.

Two lonely souls bound together by fate.

We’d spent the past ten months living in companionable silence, both healing from the wounds our souls bore. And now, I’d likely torn down the careful progress we’d built brick-by-brick in one fell swoop.

The creak of my door withdrew me from my self-loathing retrospection and the quiet thud of boots crossing the wooden floors grew louder with each step in my direction. I didn’t look up. Couldn’t face him. Didn’t need to as the tension between us laid it all out clearly.

He’d never laid an ill-intentioned hand on me, we rarely even touched. Calanmai was a one-time thing. We’d brushed hands a time or two at the dinner table, he’d caught me as I stumbled in the garden once. I almost - almost - flinched as my High Lord’s hand came into my peripheral but all I was met with was a broad, gentle palm to the nape of my neck and the soft caress of a thumb running along my jaw line. I looked to him with furrowed brows, eyes lining with silver as I awaited whatever came next, but all I was met with were deep green eyes filled with anything but rage.

I averted my gaze as he fell to a knee in front of me. “Look at me, dove.” his typically gruff voice softer than I’d ever heard.

He waited patiently before I turned my head to look upon him once more. His eyes bore into mine, searing right into the depths of my soul. I could feel my heart hammering as his breaths grew rapid.

“You-“ he spoke, one large hand remained caressing my jaw as the other covered my own hands, folded in my lap. “You defended me.”

I puzzled. Was that a shock to him?

His emerald gaze flicked back and forth while remaining locked on my face, searching for an answer to an unspoken question. Why?

Withdrawing one of my hands from his grasp and resting it delicately upon his muscled chest, I replied definitively, “Because you’re mine.”

His breathing paused, rose lips pressing into a firm line. Processing. The silence between us pressing into me like a blade.

His voice cracked with his next words. “You want me?”

“I have since your eyes found mine on fire night.”

Before I could shift, or speak further, his lips were crashing into me like the violent swell of a storm falling upon rocky shores.

My lips gaped, breath hitching at his response, the desire I’d shoved deep within me pouring out at once as I opened for him, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, dancing along mine. A small, involuntary whimper escaped me as he lifted off of his knee, leaning over me as I slid back deeper onto the bed, careful not to let my lips leave his for even a moment - eliciting a groan from Tamlin.

My finger tangled into his long, blonde hair as he braced his weight over me with one arm, his other holding my hip, thumb running over the silk of my cherry blossom dress.

“You’re mine.” I rasped out in a hushed murmur between our shared breaths, pulling away just enough to look into the eyes of my mate again.

My chest heaved, breasts rising and falling with each gasp. I managed another whisper, “You’re mine, Tam.”

With those words, he lost any semblance of control. His fingers tugged my hair, exposing the column of my neck to him. His soft lips pressed heated kisses along my jawline, down to my neck, giving little nips and licks over the corresponding hurt as he went. “You’re mine.” He growled back, possessiveness overtaking his tone.

All I could manage was an “mmhmm” as he pulled the neckline of my dress down, exposing my breasts to him, his lips latched onto a peaked nipple and gods - the mouth on this male. As he licked and sucked on my breasts, jolts of electricity shot through me, straight to my core. I needed him lower and he knew it. His claws unsheathed, shredding through my dress and undergarments. I shivered as his stubble grazed my abdomen with each kiss tracking lower and lower. So close to where I needed him. My legs fell open in invitation, displaying the dripping need he elicited from me. His pupils blew wide as he took in the sight before him, realization of just how desperately I wanted him activating the most primal facets of the mating bond.

He pulled back, eyes boring into mine once more. “Say it, Y/N.”

My heart nearly shattered at the pleading expression of his features. This was real. My desire for him so tangible that he need only run a finger up my center to remind himself. But this was deeper than that, deeper than just want, deeper than mere lust.

“Tamlin.” I whispered.

“I’m yours. All of me.”

And I could have sworn the slightest hint of silver lined my mate’s thick lashes as he let loose that final reign of restraint.

His mouth latched onto my clit. A male starved. Starved for affection, starved for intimacy, starved for understanding, for love. But I saw him, all of him - and I wasn’t afraid.

His tongue laved against my core, moving with expert precision as he teased my most sensitive nerves, swirling around my clit before lowering to my entrance. He groaned like my essence was the sweetest nectar of any flora in his court and I couldn’t hold back the moans and praises spilling from my lips.

A thick finger plunged into me, curling so deliciously as he sucked my throbbing clit. He’d send me over the edge in no time. “Please.” I begged as the imminent release had me on the edge of a precipice.

I whimpered as he pulled back, the sharp angles of his chin and plush lips shining with the coat of my arousal. I could have come just from that sight alone. His deep voice sending chills through me as he commanded, “Say it, one more time baby. One more time, and then let go for me.”

His mouth returned to my core, latching back onto that sensitive bundle of nerves as two fingers now curled inside of me, his other hand tweaking a rosey nipple, “I’m yours. I’m yours. Oh gods, Tam. I’m only yours.” I chanted as release barreled through me. My sex pulsing around his fingers. His hips bucking into the bed in time with my orgasm, desperate for friction.

And I was greedy.

“Tamlin.” I spoke through heated breaths. “I need more.”

With a flick of his wrist, his clothes were gone. My jaw dropped when he rose to his knees before me, his erect length already beading with precum.

I licked my lips, raising myself to admire as he gave a few pumps to his heavy, aching cock. My mouth watering with the need to taste him.

He splayed a hand between my breasts, pushing me back into the mattress. “Time for that later. Need my baby coming on my cock.”

“Oh gods.” I moaned at the words, my core was an inferno with them at the realization that my mate needed to be in me just as badly as I needed to be filled by him.

And fill me he did. His head easily slid through my slick folds and I knew that length, and fuck, that girth, would hurt in the most pleasurable of ways.

“All of you.” I whimpered. “I need all of you. Now.”

With that he scooped me up, spreading my legs to straddle his hips. He braced his weight on his arms behind him, his muscles flexing with the shift, and crossing his legs, spreading my legs further across him.

“Take what you want.” He commanded.

And I realized then that he wanted me to set the pace, that he’d never risk hurting me. Especially since it had been so long since we’d been together.

I aligned his length to my entrance, locking my gaze onto him, admiring the planes of his gorgeous face before meeting the sea of emerald taking in each micro-expression of my own face.

“Yours.” I spoke boldly, and sank down each thick inch of his cock until I was seated to the hilt. The pleasure quickly overtaking any semblance of pain.

Chills spread through me at the loud growl of satisfaction he let out at the sensation of my cunt gripping all of him. I remained pressed down, gently swiveling my hips to adjust to his size, and pressing a hand to the slight bulge his length created in my belly.

“Fuck.” I whimpered. “You’re so- oh - you feel so…” my brain couldn’t formulate any words beyond that as another gasp escaped my lips as I rose up slowly and sank back down again, moaning in pleasure with each stroke of his length within me.

My arms wrapped around his shoulders as he shifted up, easing the weight off his arms and taking over, lifting my hips and sheathing me back down his cock, over and over, harder and harder, my heavy breasts bouncing in time with the pace. The sounds of my wetness gushing with each thrust was obscene. Removing one hand from my hip, he slid it between us and pressed his thumb to my clit. Within seconds I fell over the edge again, my face falling to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, incoherent babbles pouring from me, muffled by his neck.

“Gods” thrust. “You’re” thrust. “Divine.” He thrust my still fluttering pussy down onto him once more and let out a loud groan as he found his release, the pulsing of his cock as he spilled into me threatened to push me over the edge once more.

Our breathing evened out as he remained sheathed within me. I kept my face buried into his neck, refusing to let this moment of bliss end. My mate had yet to loosen his grasp on me, so we stayed like that, reveling in the feel of skin on skin for some time.

Finally I rose off of him, though he was hesitant to loosen his grip. “Stay with me tonight?” I asked hesitantly. Afraid he’d once again retreat to his chambers or to the hallway outside of my door.

Tamlin laid down pulling me onto his chest, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Every night.” He spoke into my hair.

“Every night.” I hummed in agreement.

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General ACOTAR list: @lilah-asteria

@tamlinweek - tagging you for Day 3 “mates” but not sure if it counts since I posted this on Sunday. This is my first of any “weeks” I’ve participated in 🥰

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tadpolesonalgae · 5 days

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To Old Gods

Tamlin x reader

synopsis: you spend a clear, spring night under the pale moon with the High Lord of Spring, only you had not understood the intimacy he was inviting you to join him in, under a night where the veil thins, and things become slightly other

a/n: I realised as a writer, I am technically able to put my own spin on each character. I hope you enjoy this peaceful night journey, and would recommend reading this somewhere you can see the moon :)

Day 1 for @tamlinweek : Heir of Spring

music: Tamlin, by Faun

word count: 1k~

This is the High Lord of Spring you respect and worship—the one who leads the rituals and pays his dues to the old magic.

How he walks silently through the grassy fields, the blades allowed to grow tall and wild so they whisper against his legs as he walks bare-footed along the trail. With small twigs and wild berries woven throughout his regal hair, swaying free in the fresh spring breeze, he resembles a disciple of the old priestesses. Clothed in a thin pale robe, the dark marking are stark against his skin—soot-like dust clouding the rims of his eyes, streaking in three lines outward like scars, and as sharply drawn as talons. One set up over his brows, streaking back into the pale gold of his hair; the second set dripping a tear’s path over the sharp high of his cheekbones disappearing just above the point of his ears around his temples; the third pair cutting straight down from his dark emerald eyes, flowing down over the harsh cut of his jaw, over the strength of his neck, down to the tangle of swirls and symbols that branch across his partially bare chest.

Beneath the moonlight, solemn and stern, you can’t help the comparison that springs to mind—with how the gods were drawn long ago, etched on parchment, or carved into stone. Those same marking that are so frequently forgotten, a tradition sacred to the Spring Court, that the rest of Prythian, even fae-kind as a whole, seem to have either forgotten or discarded. But not here. Here, those carvings are remembered and preserved, worshipped and awed over.

It’s precious, an experience you treasure, being allowed the honour of watching over such a private ceremony. To be permitted near him on this night when he honours his past fathers, the bloodline that stretches and twines like a new stream that has yet to forge its own straight lines through the earth, so meanders and ambles.

How the moonlight spills across his robes, shining over the pale gold of his hair—sacred and holy. Beneath the silver light, you can make out the triskelion that’s been marked on his chest, partially concealed beneath the robes that have been arranged over his broad shoulders. The interlocking spirals stand out clearly, the familiar marking easy to recognise. Earth, water, and sky. Birth, life, and death. The patient cycle of life as it repeats quietly, relentlessly. Repeating persistently yet ever-evolving.

A star falls across the sky, and his green-gold eyes follow its path, attention unfaltering despite the will-o-wisps that glow and bumble about in the field, casting pale blue light about the place as they bob and swirl with the breeze. There are few clouds in the sky this night, meaning their distinct, calming glow is enhanced by the moonlight, practically shimmering beneath its cool-toned light.

He turns in the field, a slow shift of his torso as his gaze finds you effortlessly, features patient and somber, and you move as softly as you can manage, unaccustomed to being barefoot. Aware of the earth beneath your feet, how surprisingly bouncy it feels, like freshly tilled soil that sinks as you step upon it. You wade through the grass, pausing at his side as to not overstep—it is a privilege to even be witnessing this moment, let alone to be invited so close.

Initially you hadn’t understood the importance of the night. Had understood its significance, the value of paying respect to those who had come before, recognising he owed much to his fathers—but had failed to consider the personal ramifications of undergoing the ceremony. What it means, for him—he, who should never have become High Lord in the first place. To stand in the open fields and welcome the past spirits closer, the veil thinning between here and elsewhere. What that could mean for a person who has lost his family, to have this one night where they might once more be together, united on one plane.

Tamlin’s gold flecked eyes are quiet but clear, sharp and as aware as ever, refusing to cower from the night, insisting on being fully present to honour his line.

His gaze locks with yours, and in this brief moment they seem almost ancient, carrying a weight he’s never allowed you to see before. Perhaps one even he’s unaware of carrying, simply having taken over from his father without examining what was being passed onto him. The kind of burden he would be forced to hold upon his back. It’s gone as swiftly as it appeared, his expression patient but solemn as he watches you with an acute understanding that has the hairs on your forearms rising. Feeling bare in a way no amount of clothing could aid with, like he’s somehow able to look directly within you, to scoop up pure starlight from the pool of your soul.

He makes no effort to speak, and you have no inclination to disrupt the peace, so join him in his silence, sharing the whisper of the breeze between you, the swish of grass and the far off snap of twigs as they break beneath soft paws. Tamlin’s gaze returns back to the sky, and the will-o-wisps dance closer, near enough to cast light upon your own robes. Quiet and together, the two of you stand, side by side as you share in the sacred moment. Looking up into the bright, night sky, lit by shimmering starlight, swirling and wonderfully complex. Even in the darkest hours, it’s surprising how bright the world is.

Your heart falters a little when his broad palm extends toward you, and you find deep emerald eyes once again peering down at you, far older than the male before you. There’s a sincerity in the gold flecks of his gaze that has your mind quietening, understanding the request for company on a night as long and as tiring as this. Not tiring in the sense of physical exertion, but in the kind that sleeping poorly despite having rested for so long brings. In the kind of restless strain that grief offers, heavy and mournful, yet enlivened by the rebirth of Spring. A relentless awareness that persists tirelessly, but that has been put into a creature that requires sleep and recuperation to recover and continue.

Your fingers slide over the surprisingly rough skin of his hands, settling in his palm as you’re brought closer, stood directly beside him, beneath this long night.

A night of mourning, and longing. A night for wishes to be made, and relations to be resolved.

A night for past worries to be released, and new beginnings to take root.

A night for rebirth, the kind only Spring can offer.

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

#tamlin x reader #tamlinweek2024 #tamlin fic #tamlin #high lord of spring #a court of thorns and roses #tamlin x you

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wishfulimaginings · 19 days

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Dain vs Tamlin

Please don't compare Dain to Tamtam.

Dain is a 22 year old kiddo who trusted his father and told on a fellow student he believed was out to kill the woman he liked/ his childhood bff. He was trying to get Xaden detention not cause a death.

TAMLIN on the other hand knew nothing good would come from him betraying his "friend" Rhys. He consciously betrayed a person he called a friend to gain his father's favour. He gave him the location of two unarmed females who were important to the "enemy" court. What did he think was going to happen?!

Point being Dain and Tamlin are not the same. If Dain had all the information he would have chosen differently.

I will die on this hill.

#acotar #Fourth Wing #the empyrean #tamlin #dain aetos #xaden riorson #high lord rhysand #Rhysand #sjm #fourth wing #Rebecca Yarros #spring court #night court #basgiath war college

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theladyofbloodshed · 8 months

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Does Feyre ever question where Rhys gets his obscene wealth from? He has an entire room of tiaras and crowns, but has she never felt guilty that he hoards so much money when the Spring tithe angered her deeply?

A salary is paid to his inner circle, they have lines of credits in stores, but they all live in his house and eat his food - what's he paying them with? How can such a massive salary be justified when it's not used or recycled back into Velaris?

The economy makes no sense and the fact Feyre never actually realises that Velaris' citizens paying taxes is the same damn thing as a once a year tithe really cements the fact that she knows shit about being a high lady

#amren even tells her that city dwellers pay a tax #and whilst a tithe usually has religions connotations #in acotar it's used for the benefit of the spring court and its high lord

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armins-main-hoe · 30 days

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Purple Petals of Velaris

Ever wonder what it would be like if Rhysand had another younger sister, one who had not even been able to fly the day his mother and sister got killed? A baby who got spared by Tamlin who could not find it in himself to kill a such a young soul who looked up at him and gave him a toothless smile. So before his father and brothers could find the youngest child of the night, he hid her away, giving her a sweet flower to suckle on so she's keep quiet, walking over to his brothers and father, trying to avoid stepping in the pool of blood on the floor, saying that their job is done.

His father took the heads of the two women, putting them into a box which were then sent down a river towards the nearest camp while cutting their illryian wings off to keep as a trophy. However, one of Tamlin's brothers remembered that there was a third child of the night court. They began asking Tamlin where that child would be, to which Tamlin faked his lack of knowledge. However, before they could go and search, they picked up on distant shouts coming from the illyrian camp a few miles away.

The high lord of the Spring court saw no desperate need to kill a baby, much less a female baby who doesn't hold that strong of a threat to his power over the urgency to leave the night court before they are found. So he left. When Illryian soldiers flew along the river they saw no signs of the bastards who sent them the heads of their high lord's lady and child. Nothing apart from the remains of their bodies and the blood soaked snow.

Rhysand did not know what to feel yet he felt so much at the same time when he was told of the murder. His father was in an even worse state. Did not help that no one knew what happened to the baby. So when his father came to him, telling him of his plan to kill Tamlin's family. Rhysand did little to think twice and joined him.

Only to come back as the new high lord of the night court.

He had winnowed into his room, his chest heaving. He did not get even a wink of sleep that night. His mind was far to busy going on with what happened over the course of a few hours to even think of laying down on his bed. As the sun began to rise, he sat on the rooftop of his home. The home he now owned. There was this anxiety sitting right on top of his chest that he couldn't get rid of no matter how much he drank.

He was lucky that only Cassian and Azriel were the ones to see him in such a state first. The night court right now was vulnerable since Rhysand had yet to prove to everyone that he was a worthy high lord. If anyone, especially the spies of the other courts that would always be there, saw him like this right now, Cassian only shuddered at the thought.

So Cassian walked his friend downstairs to either sleep off the alcohol or wait it out. Anything just not out in the open. Azriel followed close behind, holding a bundle of a blanket in his hands.

Rhysand woke the next afternoon with probably the worst hangover he had ever experienced. Though his two friends had stayed with him the night and were there when he woke up, helping him ease off his headache.

"Rhys, about you're sister-" Azriel started but Rhysand cut him off.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Cassian stepped forward, putting a hand on his shoulder. "The baby Rhys, he's talking about the baby."

Rhysand looked at him then at Azriel. No one knew where his baby sister was after the murder that yesterday. His father had sent out soldiers of all sorts to find her but no one could. When Rhysand went to the Spring Court last night, he had killed Tamlin's brothers but also had been looking for his baby sister, to see if they had taken her. However, she was nowhere to be seen or scented.

Azriel started again. "We found her last night-"

Rhysand's eyes widened, his body tensed as he quickly walked over to Azriel. "Is she... She's not..?"

"Alive. Rhys, she is alive. She's in her room right now." Cassian told him.

He did not waste a second longer to winnow to the child's room. He opened the door, immediately looking over the cot. He let out a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding when he saw her, playing with purple petals of a flower in her small hands.

"Oh, mother.." He fell to his knees, his hands on the edge of the cot as he sobbed. He had been so sure that he had lost all of his family. All within the span of a few hours but there she was. The most vulnerable of his family, the youngest and weakest, she had survived to stay with him. He isn't alone. He'd never be alone.

He would never lose her. Not in the way he lost his mother and sister, not in any way. He'd never let it happen.

He heard her squeal and coo over his tears. Wiping his wet cheeks, he stood back up. Looking at her again before picking her up. She babbles and reaches out to touch his face, the petals that were in her hands fell to the floor. Putting his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes as more tears fell. The baby simply put her little hands on his face, fingers feeling his stubble, brows furrowing at the feeling. She doesn't know what happened, too young to realise her entire family is gone. Too young to realise she only has her older brother left to rely on.

But that does not matter. He swears to keep her safe. He'll raise her. He'll protect her. He'll do it at any cost, but she can not leave him. She can't leave him in this cruel world alone.

Should I turn this into a fic?

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #rhys acotar #high lord rhysand #cassian #acosf #azriel #rhysand's sister #new fic #night court #spring court #tamlin #tamlin acotar

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bombitart · 4 months

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Tamlin High Fae and High Lord of the Spring Court from “A Court of Thorns and Roses” by Sarah J. Maas.

#romance #romance books #book art #book cover #young adult #tamlin #tamlin acotar #high lord tamlin #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #feyre archeron #spring court #fairy

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taymartiart · 4 days

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Day 2 of @tamlinweek

Warrior

#Tamlin #maasverse #acotar #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #high lord of the spring court #spring court #SJM

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loneliestluvr · 23 days

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i long for the spring court I SAID IT IM SORRY—

UGH IDK CAUSE I LOVE CASSIAN SO MUCH BUT THE SPRING COURT HONESTLY JUST— as long as lucien is there it’ll be okay. tamlin is like my twin so as hot as he probably is, it would just look like we were siblings.

like… uhhhh yes??? i would thrive. books, sunshine, fresh air, sunbathing, swimming in pools of starlight, good food, lucien vanserra <33 yeah, im down.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #tamlin #high lord tamlin #spring court #prythian #lucien vanserra #its mostly just for lucien #so maybe the day court instead #please catch me a fish vandaddy #lucien vandaddy

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teddyhoneybear · 23 hours

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| 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓶𝓪𝓲

#acotar #calanmai #the great rite #fire night #feyre archeron #a court of thorns and roses #moodboard #acotar moodboard #high lord of spring #high lord tamlin #high lord #tamlin week #tamlin week 2024 #tumblr ruined the quality #lucien vanserra #pro tamlin

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 3 months

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Word count: 2600+

Warnings: mentions of war, anxiety, vomiting, blood and dead animal

In books there's no mention of Tamlin being able to winnow, but for the sake of story, let's pretend he can

Also this fanart😍 I'm into dark guys, but this one would do too

Part III | Part V

You woke up with a jolt, unable to take a breath. Something was pushing you from behind into sturdy, but warm object, crushing you. You squirmed and scratched until the thing under you stiffed and moved. It was alive. The grasp on back of your head and waist loosened a bit and you sat up gasping for air. As soon as you calmed down, you looked back to see what held you. Your eyes widened as you recognized the person next to you.

Tamlin was still asleep, lying on top of the blanket on your bed. He looked tired and torn, his cloths were dirty with bloody stains, his golden hair all dishevelled. He didn't have a single scratch on his skin, though he seemed to be trapped in another nightmare. He was moaning, gritting his teeth and frowning. His head was tossing from side to side, fingers clenched into fists.

"Please.. no.. don't le-.." he murmured under the breath.

"Tamlin," you shook his shoulder. "It's just a bad dream. You are.. safe."

High Lord woke up panting. Swallowing hard he looked around, seemingly trying to remember where he was. His green eyes stopped on you. Confusion and pain on his face was replaced by relief.

"You are awake," he breathed out.

"So you are. How did this happen?" you gestured between him and your bed.

"Ah, this.. Don't worry. Nothing happened. You passed out and as it looks I fell asleep while taking care of you. When was the last time you ate?" smirking he slowly sat up, his face just an inch from yours. You tried to put some distance between you and him, but everything went dark for a second. His big hands caught you, grounding you. "Slowly."

"I'm fine now. Thank you."

Tamlin shook his head. "When was the last time you ate?" he repeated his question.

"I don't know," you admitted, shrugging. "Is the war over? Who won?"

"We did, but I already told you yesterday. Don't you remember?" he tilted head in rather an animal way.

You blinked confused. "Really? I-I don't remember any of that.."

"Hmm," he watched you with concern. "It's interesting. When I came in I thought cottage is empty. I couldn't sense you at all. Then you suddenly appeared in the shadows and when I told you we won, you passed out. Don't you really remember it?"

You frowned and shook you head.

"Well, never mind," Tamlin sighed. "Let's find you some food."

"I'm afraid I don't have any at the moment. I.. couldn't go out.. I-I was worried.." you blushed turning your gaze away from him.

A wicked grin appeared on Tamlin's face. "I thought you are angry at me and meanwhile," one brow raised up, "you worried for my wellbeing. I'm flattered."

You blushed even harder. Since when did you have such kind of feelings? You didn't recognize yourself. "I could feel it.. The magic of this world was..wild..roaring."

"Yeah, it was quite a tough fight," Tamlin was once again serious. "War is a horrible thing. Many lives were lost. Too many. Things you see on a battlefield.. It's hard to erase it from one's mind.."

You could feel the enormous weight burdening his shoulders. Suddenly you felt really sorry for him. He was just a young male and yet.. he had a great responsibility. Many lives depended on him. He had to rule entire Court and fae who lived there. He was protecting this land for so many years and then human woman came and things started to fall apart.

"I'm going to get us something to eat," Tamlin stood up, heading to door. "You stay here and try to rest. I'll return soon."

He stopped, hand on a handle. "Uhm.. can you handle a meat? I know you said you don't remember if you've ever eaten it, but.. unlike you I'm afraid I'm not able to collect mushrooms and herbs. I'd most likely poison us."

You giggled. "I'll give it a try," you agreed grateful for anything he could bring. Tamlin's cheeks turned pink. Nodding he left.

Barely twenty minutes passed when you heard Tamlin returning back. His steps were heavier than before. Curious you carefully went downstairs using walls for support. Seeing an animal slung over his shoulder, you yelped.

"You shouldn't stand up," Tamlin said calmly as if he wasn't carrying big deer.

"Are you going to," you swallowed, "cut it open here?" If you had anything in your stomach, you would throw it out right there on the spot. You felt faint and needed to sit down. When Tamlin took a note of your state, he let the deer fall to the ground and rushed to you.

"Easy, vicious witch," he smirked helping you sit to your armchair. The smell of the dead animal stuck on his clothes and you gagged.

"I'm sorry," breathing deeply you tried to work off the nausea.

"No, I am sorry. It should have occurred to me you might feel sick when you see this," he pulled away, fanning you with hand. "It was really bad idea." Thinking about something he narrowed the shining green eyes on you. "I could.." he said hesitantly, "clean it and roast it at my house." You nodded weakly with closed eyes. "But I don't want to leave you alone for so long in this state."

"Don't worry. I'll be fine. Just leave me here," you groaned, the desire to be as far from the dead animal's body and its smell as possible growing with every second.

He studied your face for a while. "Come with me," he said firmly. You wanted to object, but he continued before you could even open mouth. "You can rest in other room or take a walk around if you will feel up to it. I would be less worried. And meal won't unnecessarily cool down."

His gaze was too piercing and you had to look away. The very same feeling you had when you tried to go to check on him in his manor returned. Leaving this forest even for hour or two made you nervous. Whole your body was against it. You started sweating.

"I'll winnow us. No need to be afraid," Tamlin assured you. "Come." He pulled your hand lightly.

"I.."

"If you are afraid I will do something to you, no need to. If I would really want to, I already had a plenty opportunities, don't you think," he grinned and winked. Under all the playfulness there were traces of something dark, cold and painful. He was trying to suppress it, but you noticed it nonetheless.

Maybe it was for that pain that you agreed at last. Uneasiness was crushing you from inside and you had to repeat to yourself that it would be just for few hours and you would return back home.

Tamlin winnowed you as he said. When you dared to open your eyes a little, you found yourself in a room with big windows. It was impressive just as expected from High Lord's manor, but signs of neglect were visible all around. Every surface was covered in dirt and dust, some pieces of furniture were broken. Tamlin blushed looking around.

"I'm sorry for this," he gestured around. "This used to be the nicest room, but certain things happened and.. all servants left.. The state of my house is.. quite horrible at the moment."

Your eyes wandered around the room while he spoke, taking in beautiful details. You turned to him only when Tamlin stopped talking, waiting for your reaction.

"It is still very nice house. And bright," you smiled nervously. "It's so huge."

"For one person, it's too much," sadness filled his eyes. "If you want, you can look around or find some place to rest. Just.. stay nearby, please.. You know.. just in case you pass out again.." he added nervously as if his request needed an extra explanation. You heard that High Lord basically imprisoned his fiancée in the manor after their return from under the mountain and she broke down. That's when somebody from Night Court came to rescue her and she left him for the first time.

"I'm going to take care of the..meal," his voice snapped you out from your thoughts.

"Okay, I won't go far then," you promised and sent him reassuring smile. You watched your High Lord until he disappeared behind the doors on the opposite side, leaving it wide open. Was he really such bad person? He was gloomy, sad and broken, but down under it all, he seemed to be caring and gentle in his own way. You had mixed feelings.

You were weak and felt sick, so you decided to sit on chair near the window overlooking the garden. At least the anxiety of leaving the forest wasn't so bad right now. Resting you head against the frame of the window, you let your thoughts wander.

The peaceful moment didn't last long. Air changed and something felt off. Wondering what's going on you trailed in the direction Tamlin had disappeared in. It didn't take you long to find kitchen, the faint smell of dead animal guiding you. You were about opening the door when you sensed some stranger on the other side. His magic filled air with smell of dark chilly night, so strong it made a shiver ran down your spine. Whoever it was, he was powerful, more powerful than your High Lord. No matter how scary it was, it felt familiar in a certain way. You halted, trying to remember where did you met with such powers, but there was nothing.

You shook your head concentrating on a small gap in the ajar door. Peeking through it you could see Tamlin standing behind the table across the room, his hands dirty from the animal's blood. He was cutting - no, tearing it to pieces, obliviously ignoring the stranger standing on the other side whose back was turned to you.

"I just came to check on you," the stranger purred, even his voice was like silky night.

"Why would you bother?" Tamlin grunted, his eyes trained on the meat he was peeling off the skin.

"You saved my life which I'm really grateful for. Feyre said you even wished her a happiness. We used to be friends, Tam."

"Right, we used to. The past tense," Tamlin snarled.

Stranger stayed silent for a while, ignoring his words and looking around. "This house turned into a great mess. You should do something about that."

"Your mate made sure nobody stayed here," your High Lord snapped. Now it gave sense. The other male was Night Court's High Lord, the one Tamlin's fiancée ran to.

You could see Tamlin's discomfort, his shoulders tensed, jaw tightening. It worried you. You felt hate towards the male who came to tease him, to kick him while he was at the bottom. You were debating if you should go in and support him or stay hidden when Night Court's Lord spoke again.

"Are you really alone?"

Tamlin's gaze shot to the door you were hidden behind, flash of panic in his eyes. It took just mere second, but you noticed. He was afraid the other male could find you here. It was like a signal to stay where you were. "Yes," he rasped.

"Hmm," other male hummed amused. "Maybe I should send somebody to make you a company."

"Shove it up your ass, Rhysand! I don't want your sleuthhound to sniff around," Tamlin barked, his claws punched out.

So called Rhysand raised his hands in surrender. "It was just a friendly offer. You don't have enough men to guard the borderline. I can help you out with it."

"I. Don't. Need. You." Tamlin growled.

"Okay, I've got it. But if you change your mind or need help, let me know," Rhysand laughed and winnowed.

Tamlin stood there, his chest rising and falling as he heaved, sharp claws ready to tear the flesh into shreds. He was angry once again, pain all over his face. You hesitantly stepped out of your hideaway. His gaze shot to you, studying you from head to toe.

"How long were you eavesdropping on us?" His words were sharp like daggers.

"Long," you admitted calmly although your heart rate increased.

"So now you know.." he whispered, voice full of pain and looked down on his bloodied hands.

"That you are High Lord? I know it since I treated your wound."

His eyes shot up to you with surprise, searching your face for disgust, hate or any other emotion subjects of this court usually felt for him. He was taken aback when he found none of that.

"Will you leave like others did?" he asked in a small voice. "I.. won't stop you.."

"No," you answered simply. "I already told you I won't leave my home."

His lips pulled into a thin line. "Your cottage.. right.." he mumbled. He silently stood there staring absently at the table.

"So.. When will be the meal ready?" you changed topic, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Tamlin gave you a questioning look. "You don't mind eating with me?"

You huffed, raising a brow. "Have I ever given you such impression?" He searched your eyes and then returned back to portioning the deer.

"You know what I've done, don't you?" he asked while putting a piece of meat on the spit.

"I heard something."

"I see." You felt him watching you out of the corner of his eye.

You smiled. "Do you plan to lock me up in your manor?"

His head snapped up. "No," he hurried to answer. "I-"

"Easy," you stopped him. "I was just teasing you." You smiled wider. Slowly a shy smirk appeared on his face, his shoulders relaxed bit more.

A silence stretched between you. Tamlin was roasting the meat, while you were standing as far from the rest of the deer as possible, going through almost empty shelves. When his servants were leaving they took most of the useful things with them. In one of the cupboards you managed to find some plates and cutlery.

"Do you.. do you have a name?" Tamlin asked suddenly.

You hummed. "Probably, but I don't remember it," you said unexcited.

"So with your past you forgot also your name," he stated. You nodded. "Well then.. how should I call you?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?" you shrugged.

Tamlin stopped in the middle of reaching out to turn the meat, gaping at you. "Of course it matters. Everyone has name." He stepped closer, examining your face in disbelief. You gazed back at him. He was met with emptiness of your eyes. There was again no emotion, no sentiment nor desire. It was disturbing.

"If that's the case I will give you name," he decided lastly. He took his time, watching you, circling around you with thoughtful expression. "How about... No." He circled around you one more time. "I will call you.. Y/N. What do you think?"

"Well.. I guess it's..fine." It felt strange. You didn't want to, but nevertheless you cared. It was just a name, yet it changed you. You couldn't grasp what it had done to you, but it was big. You felt different.

"Fine?" He raised a brow. He watched you closely, lightly grinning at your reaction. "Your High Lord just gave you new name and you say 'fine'?" He really enjoyed teasing you. You shrugged.

Since then he made sure to call you by the name he gave you at every opportunity. It took some time, but at last you got used to it.

#tamlin x reader #pro tamlin #tamlin fanart #tamlin acotar #tamlin #high lord of spring #acotar #acotar fanfiction #rhysand acotar #rhysand #sarah j maas

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lorcandidlucienwill · 6 months

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"But Elain … The Spring Court had been made for someone like her." "She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.” Elain had come into the house, her right palm bleeding from several gashes thanks to a stubborn rosebush that had pierced her gloves.

I think it's interesting that Elain is constantly associated with roses/Spring Court. Tamlain shippers use this as justification for their theory rather than Elucien, but I have a different one:

I think 100% Lucien is going to be spending some time at the Day Court to discover his heritage, but the Day Court already has a ruler, we can't move around that (unless Helion is killed off). And Lucien also says this: And I’m willing to bet I’m no longer welcome at h—the Spring Court.” Home, he had almost said. “ He thinks of the Spring Court as his home. And this describes Tamlin: It seemed like a cold, lonely position to have, especially when you didn’t particularly want it. I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much. Tamlin said this: “I claimed Lucien as my own—named him emissary, since he’d already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people, while I … can find it difficult. He’s been here ever since.” Because Tamlin hadn't been prepared to become High Lord, he relied a lot on Lucien to whom High Lord shit came easy. And of course, this: “I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.” A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?” One thing is almost certain in my mind: Lucien will be becoming a High Lord in his book. But while most people are certain he'll end up in Day, I'm not. The Spring Court is the court that's the most in shambles, the one that would benefit the most from a guy like Lucien. Secondly, this is not a hit on Tamlin fans, but Sarah has explicitly said that she hates Tamlin, so unfortunately for you guys I don't think he will be getting a redemption arc. I'm not sure if SJM will kill off Tamlin or make him abdicate and roam around in beast form forever, but either way I'm almost certain Tamlin is the one who will get replaced. Sarah likes Helion so I don't think she will kill him off. I'm not certain of this though, Sarah hates creating healthy father-son relationships. Also, Lucien is in a unique position because he possesses abilities characteristic both of an Autumn Court ruler and a Day Court ruler; I think this unique mix would mean it makes more sense for him to rule over neither court and rather the Spring Court. And of course, Elain would be his High Lady :))) Would not mind him ending up in Day at all, though. He looks hot in Day Court robes.

#pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #elucien #spring court #day court #helion spell cleaver #tamlin analysis #tamlin #lucien spell cleaver #high lord lucien #pro elain archeron #high lady of spring

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tadpolesonalgae · 8 months

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Beast form!Tamlin x reader: The Great Rite[***]

A/N: so, this is a prequel to The Aftermath of Spring because most of you should know by now that I love anything to do with monsterfucking :)

Warnings: smut, monsterfucking, bondage (vines)

He’d requested you stay in your rooms that night, and you’d been too timid at the time to inquire about his seemingly out-of-the-blue request. So you’d gone home, and shut and bolted your door.

But the drums are pounding, and even as High Fae you find it strenuous work to resist that heavy beat that thunders through your being.

You’re enough of a female to admit you’re harbouring concerns about the night. It’s well-known what will happen, what activities your High Lord will engage in. You can admit you’re worried your efforts will be in vain. You’ve grown alarmingly fond of him, with his affections for poetry, and affinity for the fiddle. It’s not a lie to say you’re jealous of whichever female he chooses to bed tonight.

It’s the final straw, the final fracture that catalyses your violation of his request. You want him to be yours, and you want him to call you his. There’s nothing else to be considered really once the conclusion reaches you. You’ve made your decision. And with a heart that’s pounding in time to the alluring drums, you unlock your door, silently slinking out into the hallways of your estate, heading for the bonfires.

————

Bonfire smoke tints the air, smelling so alluring and delicious as you follow it through the cluster of trees. Fire gleams in the distance, sparks and embers dancing between shadows as the centre of the revelry comes into sight. The drums thrum through the ground, reverberating up your feet into your ankles.

It’s the one night deemed acceptable for a Lady like yourself to dress with these unfavourable intentions in mind, and you indulge in the level of freedom you’re afforded, forgoing any slippers, or even a night robe to conceal your thin slip. You blend right into the crowd with your revealing dress, ankles and wrists on show for any male to peek at. It’s exhilarating.

But it’s missing something.

The eyes feel wondrous on your skin, licking and nipping at you with male intent, but they’re not his eyes. They aren’t emerald flecked with gold: a spring glade with threads of sunlight spooling between the leaves, creating dappled shade upon the lush undergrowth. You want his eyes dancing over your bared body, you want him to be the one silently considering ways to get you into bed.

The drums are reaching their climax—you don’t have long left before he’s forced to make his decision. He’ll make his choice without knowing the full extent of his crop. How will he pluck you out from the crowd is he isn’t even aware of your presence? The thought dampens your mood, leading you to wonder away from the fires, seeking the cool reprieve of the forest for comfort. You wish to mope in peace, bemoan the missed opportunity.

Leaves rustle at your back, but you leave the noise be. It’s most likely a pair of tangled bodies, coupling in the eves of the long night, getting a head start on the inevitable activities. A twig snaps, close enough by that you get to your feet, drying your dampened eyes as you plan to relocate yourself. You aren’t too keen on inadvertently getting an eyeful of misplaced lust when you’re in such low spirits.

Yet when you turn, you come to face a creature the size of a horse, its features distinctly lupine in their structure, large antlers protruding from its skull. Your attention is drawn to the green eyes piercing from golden fur, trained upon your form with razor-sharp intent. Tamlin.

You feel your muscles stiffen, still in the motions of drying your eyes. Slowly, you lower you arms in favour of crossing them over your chest, keeping yourself as concealed as possible. All too suddenly, your clothes feel insubstantial, like you should be dressed more modestly before him.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, words dragging from his animal throat with pleasing roughness. You shake your head slightly, averting your gaze elsewhere, fingers twining together at your front, “I was not crying, my Lord. The night must have tricked you.”

“I have not known you to keep things from me?” He inquires gently, moving forward with feline grace on his large paws, and you can hear the distinct frown in his voice. “Tell me: what has caused your sadness? I would like to right it.” Your teeth find placement within your lip, tugging gently as you make the effort to straighten; appear unruffled and dignified. “I assure you, my Lord, it is nothing for you to concern yourself with. I was merely out enjoying the festivities, you see, as I’m sure you will soon be, too.” A veiled question—to pry whether he’s taken a female yet, or whether you still have a chance. Slim as it may be.

This time his golden brow does furrow, “I have not known you to lie to me, either,” he remarks, a little sternly. It’s surprisingly difficult to remain calm beneath his scrutinising gaze, not to shift or fumble. But he huffs out a low breath, eyes gleaming as he again looks to you, “walk with me.” You don’t have in you to reject the order, so you take a few steps forward, careful to keep the distance respectful. His eyes mark your bare feet, zipping up your ankles to where the hem of your night dress starts.

The two of you move in companionable silence for quite a way, moving through the soft grass and moss, small fireflies and will-o-wisps dancing about between trees. “Have you been delighting in the revelry?” He asks, breaking the peaceful quiet that you’d settled into. You nod your head demurely, keeping up your act, “I have, indeed. There were a few dances that had me particularly breathless,” you tell him, making your words sound slightly embarrassed.

Silvery moonlight catches on his claws before they’re retracting back into his large paws. You peer up at him then, only to find his attention already on you, eyes gleaming. Hurriedly, you turn your gaze elsewhere, attempting to track the shift of the winds to remove your focus from him. “Strange,” he remarks, and you could swear you hear a smile in his word, “I didn’t see you amongst the revellers.”

It’s an effort to keep yourself from stiffening beneath his intense gaze, piercing into you as if he knows the reason you crept from your room after he specifically requested you remain inside. For what reason, though?

“You must have been preoccupied with your fiddling,” you retort primly, perfectly aware of the insinuation you’ve just made. A pleasant laugh drags form his throat, having something warm and liquid lighting in your lower belly. “I could show you, if you’d like,” he drawls, lips curving into a feline smile.

You stop in your tracks, head spinning as you turn to face him. He’s also come to a halt, watching you with the intense green of his, nostrils flaring delicately. A soft snarl rumbles in his chest as the wind blows past you, carrying your scent for him to get drunk on. “I beg your pardon?” You manage, slightly hoarsely.

The High Lord laughs lowly; quietly at your stammer. “I said: I could show you. My fiddle still remains beside a bonfire. I would happily play for you,” he supplies, turning to face forward. “It wouldn’t be for long, as there are still duties I have yet to fulfil, but for the moment…” his eyes flick to yours in question. Your heart drums against your chest, beating and pounding at his attention, the apparent vulnerability in those emerald and gilt eyes.

You turn away, averting your gaze so he cannot see the nerves that are sizzling beneath your skin, frying and scrambling your mind. “I would not want to withhold you from your duties, High Lord. I think I’ve stolen enough of your time as it is. You should not keep the night waiting.” He makes a low sound in his throat in reply, pausing before resuming conversation, as if he had hoped you might change your mind. “Then, allow me to assure you safe passage back to the festivities, at least. To be sure your lovely dancing-feet don’t give out from your revelry,” he says softly, his charm almost a tangible thing in the night air.

Delving through your mind, no words come to hand that would be a polite dissuasion, so all you can do is gracefully accept his offer. You turn to make the walk back, but something like a laugh resounds in his chest, making you pause. “What do you find so amusing?” You ask, resisting the urge to return his good nature as you peer at him.

He prowls closer, coming to a stop beside you, near enough you can feel his warmth grazing your arms, hairs rising with awareness. “It’s a night of extravagance, of indulging in decadence,” he says smoothly, but you still don’t understand. When he settles to the ground, great paws tucking beneath him, you begin to get the idea. “It would not be right for me to allow you to wonder back on those feet of yours. A Lady should not walk when she has no need to.”

Heat flushes your cheeks, lips parting in barely concealed astonishment. “You—… You are asking me to ride you?” You ask, disbelievingly. His smile broadens to a grin, the same one he’d shown you multiple times past, seemingly just for you, “you have quite the tongue for implications, don’t you?” You flush further, replaying your words. “But yes, that is what I am asking,” he says, watching you carefully. You manage what you hope is a vaguely confident nod, before approaching him.

“Is it…acceptable to put my hands upon you, my Lord?” You ask, unsure how you would manage to mount him otherwise. “More than acceptable, Lady. I would argue it is expected,” he laugh softly. You swallow your embarrassment, stepping into him as your hands find purchase in the soft locks of fur, swinging your leg over him. He goes slightly rigid beneath you, and you pray to the Mother he can’t feel the nakedness of your heat though your dress—thin as it is. But then he raises onto his paws, muscle shifting beneath you, and your thoughts are banished.

And as he begins the slow wonder back the way you’d come, you feel your muscles lose their tension, melting into the solid heat beneath you.

————

“Thank you for the…company, my Lord,” you say, curtsying slightly before his large frame. You have a feeling ride wouldn’t have been the right word choice.

Heat is warming your bones, but he seems to be lending you the courtesy of not mentioning what is probably an obvious shift in scent by now. Most likely because you are doing the same for him. No sooner than you had mounted him, you’d been wrapped in the scent of his arousal, light enough to blend seamlessly into his usual fragrance.

You stand opposite one another, silence stretching between you as you anxiously wring your finger behind your back. The thought alone of that distinct scent has you aching in response. You consider it a perfectly normal reaction to be having to your High Lord upon this particular night, affording yourself yet another excuse. “It was my pleasure,” he says, green eyes gleaming beneath the moonlight, and you can pick out the sparks from the bonfires reflecting in the depths of his gaze. Piercing in their intensity. “I would invite you to enjoy the night to its fullest, Lady,” he rumbles, talons protruding from his paws as if to keep him in place. “And I for you, Lord.”

The wind blows toward you, and you’re once again wrapped within his scent, powerful and comfortingly masculine with a soft undertone that has your toes curling in the grass. “I hope you do well by your Court, on this eve,” you add, wishing to spend a little more of yourself on his time—selfish as it may be.

Again, those green eyes flick over you, glinting with something too fleeting to place. But then he’s taking a step forward; your heart spikes, foolish illusions forming themselves in your mind’s eye. “You came out of your room tonight,” he says, softly enough it’s a struggle for your ears to pick out the words. When you figure them out, however, you stiffen. This is the conversation you had been hoping to avoid. “It’s Calanmai,” you reason with surprising ease, “I would like to enjoy the perks of the celebration like every other female.”

He regards you, taking another set of steps forward. His scent becomes more overpowering with each inch gained, heart picking up at his closeness. “Why lie to me?” He asks, catching you off guard. You blink, and it’s the confirmation he needs. “You weren’t dancing with the revellers,” he says, softly.

“And I suppose you would know because you fiddled at every bonfire?” You ask in the same soft tone. The smile he gives you is a little feral, “I would know, because the magic of this night took me to your estate, just as I had anticipated.” You go preternaturally still as his words fall on your pointed ears. “And yet here you are, out in the forests when I had specifically requested your absence this night.”

You flush as you put together his pieces. His scent, the unusual forwardness, the…ride. “Forgive me,” you murmur, quietly, “I had no intention of—”

The wind changes.

Steadily, your scent catches on the cool breeze, winding and wrapping around him as his own had with you. His pupils contracts, talons sliding deeper into the soil with restraint, nostrils flaring as his body goes rigid. Muscle tightens, lip curling slightly as his attention centres on the dip between your thighs. “I suggest you leave, now,” he manages, voice strained with tension.

But the magic had called him to you, and you to him. Surely there was reason for the drums holding more allure than they had in past years. Maybe it’s not a weak will that has led you to this circumstance.

You take a small step forward, his pupils contracting further, muscle trembling as your scent envelopes him. “Tamlin…” you begin, taking another small step toward the towering beast. Then his pupils are dilating, filling the marvellously rich green of his iris’, almost swallowing them whole. “I don’t want—” he manages. “I want you, but…”

“But what?” You ask. “This is the purpose of the Rite. Nothing to be concerned about.” But the shake in your voice betrays your emotions.

“I want you to want it, too,” he rasps, strain evident in his jaw; the harsh line of muscle up his paws.

You nod, taking that last step forward. If he lowers his neck, he’ll be able to press his vulpine nose against you. “I do,” you murmur, “I do want you, Tamlin.”

A low snarl sounds in his throat, his name seeming to be his undoing as he takes a sudden step forward, pushing into your stomach with enough force to knock you to the mossy ground. Your eyes widen, attempting to gather yourself but vines and roots are crawling about your body, winding hastily up your calves and thighs, pulling up your night dress until you’re bare in the night.

His eyes seem to glow in the dark, magic thrumming beneath his skin as your heart follows the drum of his power. “You’re sure?” He asks gutturally, somehow keeping himself at bay a little longer. “I’m not— I don’t want to hurt you.” Your eyes lock, and you’re aware that you’re panting, heat swelling in your chest the longer you look at him.

Slowly, tentatively, you latch your fingers at the hem of your night dress. His gaze narrows on your hands as you raise the material over your head, leaving you naked for him, “I trust you, Tamlin.” His eyes hold enough anguish for you to grasp the depth of his concerns—he doesn’t want to ruin whatever it is that’s flourishing between you. “Have you ever hurt anyone before? During the Rite?” You ask. He manages a shake of his head, and you nod in response. “I believe you,” you say, relaxing beneath the roots and vines constraining your lower body. “And I trust you, Tamlin,” you repeat, letting him feel your sincerity.

“I’m here: take me.”

Vines wrap around your waist, hugging your skin as they circle over your breasts, coiling around your nipples before snaking down your arms. They don’t pull, or guide, simply hold you—make no mistake he could move you as he pleased if he wished. Hooked talons gleam in the moonlight, eyes glowing with inner power as he stalks forward. “Is that why you stumbled out of your lovely estate?” He drawls, voice roughening with carnal hunger as he towers over you. “You wanted to find me, too?”

Unimaginable lust melts the arousal in the pit of your belly, turning it to something liquid and molten as he settles on his paws before you. You try not to be embarrassed at the position, how he can see everything between your legs. How turned on you are: gleaming beneath the stars. “Yes,” you swallow. “I was hoping to find you.”

His lip curls in a soft snarl, prowling forward while keeping low to the ground, “if I had known I could be so forward with you, I wouldn’t have waited all these months to have you in my bed.” His admission has your pulse spiking, has your legs widening a little more. His eyes glitter with dark hunger, noting the gesture; the invitation. His snout roughly nudges your thighs further apart, vines constricting as they follow his will. Heat prickles your skin, awareness lighting your body as a cool spring breeze licks over your nakedness.

A quiet breath escapes your lips as he presses between your legs, your panting becoming deeper. “Oh, gods,” you stammer shakily, his eyes flicking up to you in pleasure. Then his jaw is opening, his slightly rough tongue dragging flatly over your heat, passing through your centre. “Tamlin…!” You breathe, muscles tensing at the abrupt stimulation. A sound of deep, male satisfaction purrs through his chest, repeating the action with firmer intent.

Your lips part, spine arching as the vines slither and slide over your skin, giving attention to every nerve ending. “I…what?” You stammer, mind fumbling from the pleasure. Your teeth find your lower lip as his tongue starts moving eagerly over you, the textured scrape over your clit making your eyes roll to the back of your skull. When he purrs with pleasure, the wet muscle vibrates, sending those quick-fire pulses straight to your nerves, and you shudder.

When a startled moan slips from your lips, he growls, eyes flickering as if he’s warring for control within himself. Hunger glitters in his darkened gaze, and one large paw lands possessively over your abdomen, spanning your entire stomach. A humiliating whimper drags from your throat at the delicious pressure, one leg hooking over his other paw, toes curling in the grass.

“Tamlin…” you pant, loving the way his talons hook around your waist, keeping you pinned beneath him. But it’s comforting, you feel secure instead of trapped. He growls in pleasure, and more moans spill from your parted lips, arching into him, almost trembling with the effort to keep all this euphoria within you. It simply builds, and builds, pressure intensifying beneath your skin until you know you’re going to snap.

Your mouth opens in a silent moan, head tipping back as his paw presses a little harder over you. The tapered end of the wet muscle presses against your entrance, the base part of his tongue pushing into your clit, purring roughly as he feels you tighten once, the sign you’re about to tip over the edge. He growls with male pleasure as your body relaxes into his vines, melting into his power as pleasure floods your blood, singing beneath your skin.

His name is a mantra in your mouth, repeating over and over again like it’s the only word you know, the only word you can remember as your vision flashes light and dark. “Tamlin…” you beg quietly, pleading for him not to stop, to let you continue on this high as your legs spasm and your body goes limp.

Your vision is somewhat blurred when you softly float down from your high, and you have to blink away the dampness. Your skin is gleaming with sweat, heart pounding in your chest as heat ravages your body and you have this need, this incessant need to push your legs wider. You need to have him, want and need and need and want him so badly you feel like the world is whirling inside of you.

His vines release you enough for you to attempt shifting, but you’re so sensitive that you tremble. “Tamlin, I…” you murmur, looking up at him desperately, but then your attention catches between his hind legs, and you could sigh with relief.

The vines tighten and constrict around your form, finally taking advantage of you as you’re moved to his pleasure, flipping you onto your arms and legs—feet flat against the ground as you’re bent until your palms are planted in the grass. You flush wildly at the position, leaning heavily into the vines to keep you balanced at such a sharp angle. You’re completely open to him, and you watch from between your own legs as he prowls forward.

Your hair slides up over your shoulders from the slant of your spine, brushing the ground as you feel him put himself over you—the soft fur of his stomach brushing silkily against your back, his front paws landing further beyond your own arms, hind legs just behind your feet.

You could cry when you feel his tip nestling against your entrance, the bare, soft skin surrounding that area hot and gentle against your ass. “Tamlin…” you beg, whimpering with need, “please…” He growls in response, talons slipping out from his knuckles, digging into the soil as he rubs himself over your wet heat. “Hold still,” he growls, the syllables of his order rasping against your pointed ears. You keep as still as possible for him, needing to have him pounding you into the mossy bed as soon as possible. With muscles like his, lining his body with feline grace, you doubt he’ll have any struggle doing so.

“Breathe in,” he commands. You do so, right as he pushes in. The air whooshes from your lungs as you take the first few inches, limbs trembling; going weak with pleasure. “Breathe in,” he repeats, a low snarl. The inherent dominance he has over you as High Lord forcing you to take in a gulp of air. Your vision clears, and he pushes in deeper. You curse softly, making him chuckle. “I had no idea you possessed such a foul mouth,” he growls, shifting his paws to rest over the roots of a nearby tree, levelling himself. “What other sounds will you make for me tonight, sparrow?”

You bite back a moan as he sinks those last few inches into you, creating such intense pressure within your abdomen it’s a wonder you don’r reach your high right then and there. “I’ll sing for you until my lungs blow out,” you breathe, pressing back against him, so it’s skin against skin, the delicious weight of him at your back. He groans, the husky sounds reverberating through your back, going from the tips of your toes to the peaks of your nipples, vines flicking over them playfully.

“Please, Tamlin…” you breathe, rolling your hips back against him, “please move.” He laughs lowly, as he pulls back, then slowly glides in, shoving the air from your chest. “You like being full up, don’t you?” He asks roughly, hips dragging back once again, further this time, before pressing back inside, tipping you forward ever so slightly. “Yes,” you murmur in reply, “love it.”

Tamlin snarls softly, finally dragging back all the way, reassured you can take him without being in pain, as he finally slams in. A loud, high-pitched moan spills from your lips, toes and fingers curling in the grass as he repeats the action. He raises his front paws, burying his talons into the tree so he can put his weight behind each thrust, cock dragging over those spots that have white dots dancing across your sight.

Words leave your mind as he sets the pace, one that keeps the pleasure flowing without turning too rough, or sloppy. You’re not sure you could handle him if he really decided to be rough, but then again…

He hits deep inside of you and you’re so relieved those vines are holding you firmly in place. Securing you beneath him so he’s free to pound into you, use you exactly how he wants. A scream spills from your lips as he doesn’t let up, continues giving you that pleasure, heat building and coiling as the pressure intensifies. All over again you can feel yourself tightening around him, ready to unravel, to spring free, then release everything.

He can sense it and it spurs him on, hips bucking upward as he slightly changes the angle, twitching inside of you once as you tighten. “Tamlin, I…” you can’t form the words, don’t even know what you’re trying to say but he purrs in response, as if he can understand. The reverberations strum through you, and you fall. You topple over that edge, fluttering around him and he roars in response.

Your eyes roll back as he spills into you, hot spurts of liquid pumping you full, so much that he spills down your thighs, so much you feel every part of your inner heat swell with his come. The world goes black, and then you’re thrown into a storm of pleasure, rough waves cresting over you, taking you under as you fight for breath; as it overwhelms you entirely.

You’re shaking and trembling when he at last finishes, the final drops of his release pumping you to the brim, stuffing you full as he pulls away. The vines slowly release you, gently enough that you don’t immediately hit the floor, instead settling into the spongy moss. Your breaths come out in deep, hurried pants, hauling air into your body as you begin to recover from the intensity of the night.

Magic crackles at your back, and then warm, sturdy arms are wrapping beneath your middle, pulling you back into a firm chest. You melt against him as he presses kiss after kiss to your temple. He keeps you against him, set between his powerful thighs as he strokes your skin lightly.

The moon still gleams over head, the drums a far off beat, over the hills and through the trees. From another world entirely. In this world—in your world—it’s just him. Him with his arms around you, keeping you warm and comforted as your sight darkens into sleep.

You pass into night with the soft press of his mouth to your hair, fingers grazing your skin with infinite care, as if worried he’ll break you with too much force.

His scent is the last thing you remember before you’re swallowed entirely into oblivion.

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