willowwere

[willowwere]

Whispers of Springtime - Chapter 3

Spring has become a fallen Court. Monsters roam the forests, greedy Lords vie for control of the land, and magic everywhere is dying. Refugees are flooding the other Courts, Night most of all. One day, Elain Archeron is kidnapped from Velaris and wakes in Spring. She is the last prayer of a desperate people- if she can find the missing Tamlin and make him fall in love with her by Calanmai, there is a chance to reverse the decay and save the Court. If she fails, Elain will die along with Spring itself.

This story holds all canon up through ACOWAR, with the alteration of Tamlin being Elain's mate.

Archive of Our Own

Chapter 3

Elain

Wandering the grounds of Roancrest Lodge, my mind struggled to reconcile Feyre’s stories with the reality of what I was seeing.

The beautiful estate she had described was long abandoned and decaying, with large swaths reduced to rubble. Haddin said that was done mainly by Hybern’s soldiers as they fled, but also the denizens of Spring in protest of Tamlin, and even the High Lord himself before vanishing. Most of the second floor windows were shattered, and whole chunks of the house were nothing but open air and crumbling stone.

I knew from the stories that there were expansive gardens- especially a grand rose garden planted by Tamlin’s father. At some point, weeds choked the life out of the flowers before they, too, succumbed to the dampness and rot. Nothing could survive in this Springtime. Nothing was budding or blooming, everything was blackened and shriveled.

Something lurked in the distant treeline, watching us. Hadden kept close beside me, occasionally stilling to stare down a shadow out of place. It would vanish with an echoing cackle that made my blood cold and my heart race, but within minutes my stomach would lurch as another shadow detached and began to track us.

“What is a dearg?” I asked him finally, for that was what Dillie had called the creature in the forest. 

“A nightmare with a physical body. Probably something leftover from Amarantha’s rule. She bred them as a hobby.”

He was forthcoming with the information. At least, if I asked certain questions he was. Ones that implied curiosity with Spring or the situation in the Court. Anything he deemed frivolous earned me a snarl. 

If his words could be trusted, Haddin was a few centuries old, close in age to Lucien Vanserra. He was indeed a Calanmai child, after a disguised Amarantha bribed the daughter of some vassal Lord in order to take her place in the Rite. 

Again delighting in how uncomfortable it made me, Haddin explained how the High Lord would be overwhelmed with the magic and directive of the Cauldron. His blood boiling and hormones surging to the point where he would be blind with aching lust. All Amarantha had to do was don the ceremonial mask representing the Mother and make sure she was the one in the cave when he came, possessed, to do the deed. 

As for Haddin himself… Tamlin had no idea. Amarantha kept her son’s identity a strategic secret, and dragged him to Prythian during her invasion. She intended to reveal him to Tamlin once the High Lord bent his knee and became her willing slave…

 Since Tamlin never knew, naturally Feyre didn’t either, and he never appeared in her stories.

During her reign, Haddin had established himself in a corner of Spring as a minor lord- after the real one was killed by an attor. It didn’t take the denizens of Spring long to realize that his manor was so remote and so inconsequential that Amarantha’s minions seemed to avoid it entirely. 

He became a respected member of the community, and watched over the fae who fled to his lands for sanctuary. In Hybern it was all military camps and the brutal lessons his mother taught him about power and domination. In Spring, he wasn’t feared. He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t Amarantha’s son. 

And then he found his mate, and could only offer prayers to the Mother than the High Lords would find a way to shatter her control and execute her. If she knew who his mate was, she’d likely force Haddin to kill the male himself.

“If Tamlin never knows I’m his, I will be thankful,” Haddin had said to me, the request clear. “He has the same opinion of lesser-fae as Amarantha did. Daenny and I have no interest in being part of his family, nor including him in ours.”

Dillie was apparently Daenny’s younger sister, though she’d spent Amarantha’s reign as a simple gardener. She hadn’t known her brother’s fate during those 49 years, let alone how to begin looking for him after the curse was lifted. But he’d found her in the chaos after Feyre destroyed Tamlin’s hold on Spring, and brought her to Haddin for safekeeping. 

My head swam with it all. Something at the heart of me writhed at the thought that this wild male beside me was the child of my mate and another female. It was precisely why I needed to cut the fae out of my blood and bones and go back to being human. The mating bond revolted me whenever I thought about it in Night, but being in Spring…it was louder. I was aware of it in a way I’d never been before.

Was it all this talk of Tamlin? Some kind of territorial anger of Hadreddin’s very existence? The power of Spring? Or, if Tamlin were still somewhere within the boundaries of his Court, could it be that we were closer than we had been in years?

I didn’t want to know. I just wanted a way to make it stop.

Maybe there was a silver lining to all of this. I was in Spring, after all. The distance between this place and the human lands was infinitely smaller than it had been in Velaris. The only time I was closer to home was in the final battle against Hybern.

Not that it mattered.

Even if Haddin allowed me to wander off as I pleased, I’d never survive the journey to where the Wall once stood, or the days-long trek into human territory.

And even if I did, what then? My sisters or the Inner Circle would be on the lookout, and surely they’d reach out to Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa. That Band of Exiles was camped in the ruins of my estate, I’d practically be walking into their nets if I were anywhere near our village. Not to mention that I was still fae. Prythian was much more likely to have a solution to my problem than the human lands were.

I suddenly felt that I’d been wrong- I was no closer to the human lands than I’d been all the way north in Velaris.

“I want to be human again,” I said gently. I don’t know why I said it, but I’d carried the words in my soul for so long that I simply had to let them out.

It was my greatest dream, so why did it sound so hollow?

I expected Haddin to snap at me, or say something condescending in return. He sighed heavily, then caught my elbow to stop me from walking.

“As much as I hated life in Hybern- and you cannot imagine how much I hate that place- coming to Spring was another kind of hell for me. My mother spent my entire life calling me the crown prince of Prythian, and being hauled here- I hated it more than I hated Hybern. But I made a new home here. Found a single thing I loved, then more over time. Now it’s my home, and I would do anything to protect it.”

“I’ve tried,” I whispered. My chest felt too tight, and a tear slipped down my cheek. I had more that I wanted to say, but instead I pulled free of Haddin’s grip and resumed my walk, head low.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think fixing Spring will help you. Whenever Daenny’s angry or upset, I feel it too. The mating bond has a way of twisting your emotions around. I’m not empathizing with that irresponsible asshole, but if the High Lord is feeling the same disconnect as you… You both might be doing this to each other.”

All the more reason to be unhelpful, I thought.

What would it be like if my mate were someone kind and brave? If he were respected like Rhysand, beloved of his people? Would I feel less disgusted by the bond between us? Would I be more resigned to this fate? 

My mate was someone who abused my own sister- neglected her and left her to mentally decay until Rhysand saved her. He manipulated her to lure her into Prythian and then didn’t have the decency to protect her as both human and fae. He was weak, he was a coward, and in the end, he was a traitor. 

It was Hybern’s men who took me from my home. Even in my own terror, I saw the disgust and horror on Tamlin’s face as I was dragged out in Hybern’s castle. I know he didn’t play any role in what happened to me… but I still hated him for it. Hated him for standing there while it happened, for focusing on Feyre through it all. She wasn’t the one in pain. She wasn’t the one who drowned in that endless abyss.

Nesta and I had our lives wholly destroyed, and he only cared about whether or not Feyre liked him anymore. 

I whirled on Haddin, “I can’t-”

“You will,” he cut me off, his words flat and hard. “It’s eight months to Calanmai. Even if you stomp your feet and whine the whole time, you’ll do this.”

“I don’t want to.”

“DO YOU THINK ANY OF THOSE REFUGEES IN NIGHT WANT TO BE IN THAT POSITION?” Dillie had said we had to be quiet and careful of the daerg in the woods, so it terrified me when Haddin shouted at me.

My hands flew up to cover my mouth as my knees buckled. I whimpered, suddenly very small and very afraid. Nesta and Feyre were the ones who stood up to others. Not me. I felt myself swoon, but my arm was caught roughly by Haddin. A sharp squeeze sent a flair of pain up my arm and snapped me to my senses.

“Those fae gave up their homes and everything they ever knew. And they’re the lucky ones. There are plenty who died on the journey, who have died at the claws of beasts and fae alike here in Spring.” Haddin shook me slightly, forcing me to look at him, “You have a way to stop it. Spring never got the chance to recover from Amarantha. It was already on the brink before Tamlin let the whole thing collapse. All you have to do is find one male.”

“I don’t know how,” I whimpered.

Haddin had gone from empathetic to hateful in seconds. Once my feet were steady beneath me, he removed his hand. That hate though, it remained blazing in his dark eyes.

“You don’t get to give up until this Court is dead. Save the tears,” he snapped as one slipped down my cheek. “

I swatted it away hastily, my face burning. I couldn’t raise my head. Shame made me feel sick and small and weak. More tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I don’t remember the last time anyone shouted at me. People never shouted at me. I was nice .

And now this horrible male- he was a kidnapper! And the son of an equally horrible female. What did he know? How dare someone like him make me feel like this?

“I don’t care if you’re a coward,” Haddin’s voice softened somewhat. I could hear the effort it was taking for him to pretend to care about my discomfort. “I don’t care if you want to do this or not. You’re doing it. You are mate to the High Lord of Spring. This is your duty too.”

Unbidden, a murmur escaped from my lips, “No. I have nothing to do with Spring.”

“Turn around, then say that again.” Haddin snapped, stalking off.

I did turn- weary of the daerg watching from the treeline. 

A dead, ruined land. Flowers choked to death by weeds, which in turn were overrun by rot. An ever-present fog that cloaked the world in shades of gray. 

No birds, no bugs, no sign of life or light or warmth in this cold, broken world.

I looked down at my feet. The slippers were caked in mud and flecks of brown.

But my skin was flecked with green. Small slivers of bright green.

I crouched down and inspected my foot, brushing dead grass aside.

Where my fingers touched, only the barest hint of color appeared. I started, then quickly ripped up a single blade of grass to stare at the subtle change in color.

The green spot grew. Over the next few minutes, the grass dried somewhat, and grew warm and shiny. The green brighter and more verdant. 

My eyes lifted, now that I knew what to look for. Something pounded in my chest as I saw more green- not as bright, but undeniable here and there in the brush.

Anywhere my skin had touched, a hint of life crept back into Spring.

#elain #elain archeron #tamlin #amarantha #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #fanfiction #fanfic #canon divergence #au

[willowwere]

Whispers of Springtime - Chapter 2

Spring has become a fallen Court. Monsters roam the forests, greedy Lords vie for control of the land, and magic everywhere is dying. Refugees are flooding the other Courts, Night most of all. One day, Elain Archeron is kidnapped from Velaris and wakes in Spring. She is the last prayer of a desperate people- if she can find the missing Tamlin and make him fall in love with her by Calanmai, there is a chance to reverse the decay and save the Court. If she fails, Elain will die along with Spring itself.

This story holds all canon up through ACOWAR, with the alteration of Tamlin being Elain's mate.

Archive of Our Own

Chapter 2

Elain

When I awoke, it was to a different kind of night than the one I left behind.

My night had been one just set. The stars were bright and new to my eyes, the air humming with excitement after a long day’s work. It was a night alive and awake.

This night… Even without being able to see, I could feel that it was a night exhausted. The air was thick and musty, filled with midnight dew. Sharp to the nose, cloying in the throat. It was a night spent. The darkness was preparing to rest under dawn’s light.

Every bone in my body ached as I shifted, or at least tried to. 

When I realized I was bound, my mind screamed to life.

What I remembered in those first moments was not the alley in Velaris, or the strangeness of the female who wore Mor’s face. 

It was the screams as I was ripped from my bed in the mortal lands. The animalistic cries of pain from the servants as they were slaughtered. Terror so profound and so overwhelming that before the blades even fell, any sense of being human was gone. Sanity shredded away more thoroughly than with any knife.

Screams echoed in my ears- the screams of the long dead mixed with my own in the present. I thrashed and fought against my bonds as much as I had against the soldiers then. 

Feyre’s stories clicked into my mind. In her worst and most horrible moments, one of her males always appeared to help. Tamlin, in the early days. Rhysand later on. Azriel or Cassian when things became too chaotic. That was what changed when she became fae- she had someone to fight for her.

I didn’t fight my own fear. I screamed and thrashed and let terror overwhelm me. Maybe then, someone would hear. Someone would come. 

A blast of ice washed over me, shocking my entire body and causing me to gasp and choke on my own screams. Everything froze- my breathing, my thoughts, my cries. I was soaked in frigid water, laying now in a puddle of it.

That was when I finally saw the room around me.

I was laying on my side in some sort of ruined home. There was a green rug beneath me, scraped and scratched until it was little more than a pile of ribbon with chunks of white marble peeking through. Shattered pieces dug into my ribs and made my body ache. 

The walls had been destroyed as thoroughly as the floor. Maybe more so- silk wallpaper and wooden planks were visible in some rare places higher up, but so were the stars above my head. These ruins were old and overrun, dampness and rot had overtaken most of the space. The scraps of wallpaper and wood that I could see were all that was left, and even they were warped with the dampness that filled this place.

The one who had thrown water over me was standing in the open doorway, back-lit by the glow of a fire in what must have once been a hallway. 

“I’m sorry,” the voice was high and sharp- a female perhaps? They seemed anxious, their fingers fiddling with the edges of a bucket clasped in their long, knobby fingers. “There is a daerg in the west woods. Speaking is alright, but we can’t be too loud.”

“W-who are you?” my voice was trembling. “Wh-what is this place?”

“Roancrest Lodge,” my captor said, as if it were some place I should already know. “And I’m Dillie.”

I tried to take a deep breath and force my reeling mind to a halt. Had I ever heard the name Roancrest? Instantly, my senses rejected the name, but I was still terrified. Still panicking. My mind was racing a thousand directions all at once, how could I be sure that I didn’t know the name?

Where I was directly told me what kind of danger I was in. If I was still in Night, then it probably wouldn’t be too hard for someone to find me quickly. But if this was Hybern-

My stomach twisted and I barely managed to twist to the side before a wave of nausea caused me to lose what was left of last night’s dinner.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” Dillie appeared by my side in a flash of red light. The scent of apples overwhelmed me. Mixed with the cloying decay of this- this Roancrest Lodge- I gagged again just as I’d gotten a breath in.

Dillie quickly grabbed my hair, pulling the bronze locks away from my face and out of any further danger. She snapped her finger again and the sick vanished. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly. Dillie wore overalls that were heavily patched, but carried a clean and musty smell. I let that ground me, the scent of soap and dirt. Surely someone who smelled like soap couldn’t be too terrible?

I was just trying to make myself feel better, to delay things a bit perhaps and give my would-be rescuers more time to arrive… if they ever came at all. Still, Dillie didn’t push me. She let me breathe and waited patiently until I finally opened my eyes again.

That was when I noticed my clothes had been changed. Autumn had arrived in Velaris, so I’d worn a long woolen skirt with a dark green sweater that Feyre gave me for my last birthday. Now, I was in cream-and-peach dress with short, capped sleeves and a flowing calf-length skirt.

“Don’t worry, Alis used magic to change your clothes. We had to get rid of anything that carried too much of your scent. She’s good at that kind of magic,” Dillie said brightly.

“Alis?” the name was familiar in a way others were not. I was positive I’d heard it somewhere before, but where?

Wait-

The name didn’t belong to my past, but Feyre’s. As soon as that simple fact clicked into place, the other pieces were overwhelmingly obvious.

Alis was Feyre’s maid in Spring.

And a lodge with no name…

An icy fist wrapped around my heart. It froze me from the inside-out. I couldn’t breathe, could barely think. I began to pant, staring at the floor as it tilted and whirled. As I fought to stay upright.

“W-where T-Tamlin kept Feyre?” my voice was the thinnest whisper.

I didn’t hear Dillie’s response, but it didn’t matter. 

Spring. This was Spring. I could feel the truth of it in my bones.

My heart was pounding so hard that I was sure it must sound like a canon blast. I began to shiver. My legs were numb, and yet Dillie managed to drag me closer to the fire, babbling words I couldn’t understand. 

We’d been so careful, at least on our end. Azriel sent out spies and took care of anyone who knew about the link between us. Feyre, Rhysand, his inner circle- even Nesta was so careful to never speak of it.

As hard as it had been to learn Azriel was killing others to help keep my secret, it was preferable to the alternative. It was why I so desperately needed to be human again. To escape before anyone else found out.

I would rather die than have the world know that the High Lord of Spring was the mate to this fae body.

“We’re bound by an oath,” a slightly lower, pinched voice came from the shadows. “Neither of us can ever tell or communicate in any way to another living creature what you are.”

A lesser fae male- for his clothing was certainly male- staggered out from the shadows. His skin- like Dillie’s (now that I could see her clearly in the firelight)- was a mossy green that faded to dirt-brown at the tips of his ears and fingers. Those fingers were impossibly long, even for a fae, and each one thinner than my pinkies. 

He stood perhaps three and a half feet tall, maybe four if he stretched to his full height. As it was, he was hunched over, and leaned against the wall as he moved. One leg seemed to be not working properly, and his clothes had been patched so many times that I couldn’t even tell what the original fabric might be.

I looked from him to Dillie, now illuminated by firelight. They seemed extremely similar in appearance, but I couldn’t tell if they might be related. I’d never seen this kind of fae before, and it was hard to focus on anything other than their huge gold-flecked eyes. 

“I’m Daenny,” the male sketched a quick bow. It felt like mockery rather than any sign of courtesy or respect. “Welcome to Spring, Lady Elain.”

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked, trembling. “My sister will find me. If you ask for a reward, I can convince her that you just found me, that you don’t know who-”

Daenny cut me off with a laugh, “She won’t find you, at least not by following our trail. We’ve been hearing stories about the Lord of Night since before your grandmother’s grandmother was born. Do you think we could get you all the way here and not know how to hide?”

“Daenny, don’t scare her,” Dillie waved him off. She put a bony hand on my shoulder and I jumped. “We’re not going to hurt you. I promise. We just… we were desperate. Everyone was.”

“Who is ‘everyone’?” I asked.

“Everyone is everyone,” Daenny snapped. “Every single person and creature in Spring is desperate. Every one of our people who had to flee because of what your sister did.”

Of course I knew the story. Of course I knew what Feyre did to cripple Spring and slow Hybern’s advance in Prythian. It was why Night was so generous with the refugees, Feyre’s way of trying to repay what her former subjects went through after she overthrew Tamlin and shattered the entire political structure of the Court.

“Tamlin is the one to blame for that,” I said, hating the feeling of his name upon my tongue. “And even so, my sister welcomes the people of Spring to Night every day. She gives food and shelter and opportunities-”

“So? Why should an entire Court be allowed to rot because of one fae?” Daenny glared at me, and no matter how unfamiliar his kind of fae was, I could see hate clearly enough.

“Feyre Cursebreaker was a kind female, even when she was human,” Dillie shot back. I could tell they’d had this fight many times before. “You saw how she was-” she cut herself off with a glance in my direction. Dillie smoothed her patched overalls and collected herself. “It was a bad situation. For a lot of reasons. The only ones who would blame her for leaving were the ones who didn’t see it for themselves.”

There was a lot I couldn’t do that Feyre excelled at. I didn’t have the confidence and self-possession to snap back or challenge them. I couldn’t fight, couldn’t free myself, couldn’t summon up fae magic or special powers or cast my mind out until I found someone who could help me. I could only sit there, scared and alone, and try to make sense of what was being said.

Daenny waved off Dillie’s words, “I don’t mean the Cursebreaker. I know you and I will never agree on that front. Stubborn brat. I meant the High Lord.”

The High Lord?

“What does-” Feyre could have figured it out. I was positive. But I was not her, or Nesta for that matter. I couldn’t take the threads they were casting about and weave a tapestry from it. I couldn’t guess the bigger picture, and it only made me feel small and afraid. “Please just tell me what it is you want?”

Dillie raised a hand to stop Daenny. “We’ll tell you, but… if you swear to not run away or try to hurt us, I’ll take the ropes off? Would you like that?”

My arms were bound behind my back still. They hurt somewhat, but I was so focused on my own fear that I’d honestly forgotten. I was vulnerable to them either way, even if the pair didn’t know it. If I had my arms or no, I couldn’t defend myself. Still, it would make me feel safer somehow.

“I swear.”

The arms that were bound were thin. Stronger than they looked, but weak. I didn’t know how to throw a punch or use the fae strength to my advantage. I didn’t know how to use anything at all to my advantage. Even when Tamlin first attacked our cottage and took Feyre away to what I was sure was a gruesome slaughter, I couldn’t muster up any fight. Couldn’t even run away beyond hiding behind a bedroom door.

Feyre and Nesta had their strengths, but I only had weakness. I couldn’t fight because I didn’t know how. I couldn’t harm them because it scared me too much to even try. I couldn’t run because, well, Prythian was dangerous, and the previous two points make it very clear why I couldn’t survive if anything attacked me.

If I even knew what direction to go.

Dillie snapped her long fingers and I felt the bindings on my arms vanish. The pain before was minor, but the pain when I shifted my shoulders now was infinitely worse. Dillie tried to rub my arms as I brought them forward to rest in my lap, not even daring to move my own fingers.

Tears spilled down my cheeks at the pain in my back. They unlocked something in me, and soon I was crying well beyond what the stiffness of my shoulders warranted. 

I wanted to go home. I just wanted to go home. Not to Night, home. It was all I’d ever wanted my entire life, to just be home and be at peace and not have to worry about the big, scary world outside. To have my place in the world as a fixed point, and be happy in that place.

Was that too much to ask? Was it such an impossible thing? 

What did I do to deserve this? Losing Feyre to the fae lands and everything that came after it- taking blow after blow, each time the ground beneath my feet becoming a little less stable. Each time finding my footing only to have it all fall apart once again?

All I wanted was to go home. Even if that meant the hovel- that was fine! Rich or poor, I didn’t care as long as I knew where my head should lay at night and knew my family was safe around me. Not palaces and jewels and crowns. I never wanted any of that. I just wanted… I just wanted home.

I cried for a long time. I cried more than I think I ever cried before. I felt so small in the world. So lost. So alone. 

In the farthest distance, I thought I heard a keening roar as I cried. 

I’m not sure when dawn came, but as my sobs turned to whimpers, I noticed there was something else filling the ruined hallway- other than the light of the fire. It was faint and gray, but it was there. The thinnest dawn, as the air grew colder and heavier.

“The High Lord lost his mind after the Cursebreaker left.” Daenny began to speak as I gathered enough of myself to move closer to the fire. My eyes burned from crying for so long, but I listened nonetheless. “At first he… he tried. Not much, not enough, but apparently those were the days when it was still good. When the rest of Prythian looked down on us as cowards and traitors.”

“But the High Lord was only concerned with getting Hybern’s people off our land,” Dillie cut in, before Daenny let too much of his bitterness shine through. “After they were gone and the war was over, we never saw him again. The lesser Lords of Spring always ruled their own areas, the High Lord never seemed to care much- as long as the tribute was paid. But he ignored the tribute, and he ignored his men, and he ignored his manor.”

“No one has seen the High Lord in four years,” Daenny said.

I suppose I was surprised, if I was anything. I knew nothing of this body’s mate. The last time I saw Tamlin was from a distance. The last time I spoke to him, I was begging for my life in Hybern’s camp. I didn’t know he’d vanished, but if Feyre or Rhysand did, they probably wouldn’t tell me. They knew I didn’t want anything to do with that male. Acknowledging him at all felt like it risked snapping the mating bond into place and shackling my soul to a monster.

“That has nothing to do with me,” I whispered, as much to myself as to them. 

“Mates have a connection.” Dillie saw me flinch at that horrible word. Mate. “No matter what happens, they can always find each other.”

Shame and indignation rose in me, giving my words a bit of bite, “I don’t want to find him. I won’t find him. My sisters will-”

A crack of thunder caught my words. I knew the sound of winnowing. My heart leapt to my throat and I stood in an instant, ready for Rhysand, Feyre, Azriel, Mor- whoever had found me. Of course it wouldn’t have taken them too long, the moment they realized I was missing, Feyre would think of Tamlin and the mating bond and come to this place.

He was high fae, that was certain, and yet… I’d never seen a male who looked less… fae. Long blood-red hair that hung heavy with the morning dew was braided back from his eyes and left to fall to the middle of his back. His eyes were pitch black, and nearly glowed against the lifeless pallor of his flesh. 

He had a hungry look to him, and watched me as a snake would a mouse. Unblinking, alert. Malevolent.

I’d seen Cassian and Azriel face down foes in battle, I’d even seen the King of Hybern himself. That kind of hatred and will to destroy had a physical presence. Something big and impossible and grounded. 

This male was a different kind of dangerous. He felt unchained and unlinked to anything as simple as the ground. A metallic tang filled my mouth as he stared at me. He was untethered. It was the only way I could think to describe the aura of him. Something that would not obey the understood laws of the land. 

“Haddin,” Daenny acknowledged him with a nod.

“How is it going?” His voice was deep and rich.

“She’s letting us know what her sisters will do.”

The male called Haddin laughed and some of the malice drained from him. “Your sisters will run into dead end after dead end- and even if they do manage to find you, they won’t save you. But that’s alright- if you do what we ask, no harm will come to you. You will even be celebrated in Spring.”

“What do you want me to do?” I didn’t believe for a second that Feyre wouldn’t find me. Or that she’d refuse to protect me. He clearly never met my sister, or he would know she was capable of anything.

Haddin came closer, crouching down in front of the fire and warming his pale hands. He didn’t take his eyes off of me, and I shivered at the way the fire reflected in his black irises. A demon given shape.

“No one has seen the High Lord for four years. He’s a piece of shit, and I couldn’t care less if he lives or dies. What I do care about is the fact that he’s letting this Court wither and die too, and that directly impacts my ability to live quietly and peacefully. Do you know what Calanmai is?”

The word wasn’t wholly unfamiliar, but the truth was that I had no idea what it was- beyond, of course, being the night Feyre and Rhysand met. I’d heard that story a few times over the years, but the focus of the story was them, not whatever was being celebrated at the festival or why.

I shook my head.

“Spring’s High Lord is not like the others, just as Spring is not like the other Courts. Spring is rebirth, it’s the waking of life. The magic for that is primal and elemental all at once. Other Courts see Calanmai as a fertility rite, the most inbred would call it an orgy.” 

Blush stained my cheeks as Haddin continued, “The Lord of Spring merges with the Cauldron’s power of Making and- for lack of a better term- he breeds that power into a willing female. It doesn’t matter who, and it doesn’t usually result in any offspring. Only if the male is supremely unlucky. At the moment of climax, that power of Making combined with a feminine womb creates a chain reaction that fills the land with renewed power. Raw life.”

“The ritual takes place where the Cauldron’s power is strongest, a cavern not far from here.” Dillie said, patting my shoulder to try to ease my embarrassment at hearing of such things. “But the High Lord hasn’t been there in years, and the magic of the land is dying.

“How is that fair? That an entire Court hinges on one male turning up to fuck someone once a year?” Haddin seemed to take pleasure in how uncomfortable I was with this whole conversation. There was a hint of a smile in his snarl. 

“If the High Lord misses another Calanmai, I’m afraid Spring won’t be able to recover,” Dillie sat down beside me and wrung her hands, long fingers tangling together. “There is already so much suffering, so many fae who can’t make the journey north will perish.”

“And the human lands will be overrun with monsters as the decay spreads south,” Daenny offered. He seemed a bit more relaxed since Haddin appeared. Both were blunt and mean in different ways, I supposed they must be friends.

Mention of the human lands naturally attracted me immediately. Faerie beasts and monsters had filled the northern forests ever since the Wall was destroyed. I knew Rhysand and the other High Lords kept forces in place to hold the border, but if Spring became a hive of those creatures, would they still be willing to die to protect the human lands? Or would the forces retreat to the borders north of Spring? Protect the fae at the cost of mortal lives?

“- I can’t do anything to help you,” I clasped my hands in my lap so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

“You are Mate to the High Lord of Spring,” Haddin snapped. “We’re only asking you to find him. You don’t have to fuck the male. Just bring him back. Any womb will do, even if we have to pay someone to un-cross their legs for that rabid creature.”

“Maybe he’s dead,” I said quickly, hating the way that long-buried mating bond writhed in pain at my own words.

Daenny rolled his eyes, “If he were dead, I’d know.”

“How?”

“Because then I’d be High Lord and we wouldn’t have a problem. I’ll un-cross my legs for just about anyone.”

My blood froze. Haddin spoke clearly, and with such disgust that… I believed him. But- my understanding was that no one knew who might be heir to a High Lord. Children often were, but-

“Tamlin… is your father?” I whispered. Then, his words from earlier came to me. About the High Lord being unlucky and offspring resulting from the… the act, “You were a Calanmai baby.”

Haddin was warming himself by the fire, but he sketched a lazy bow, “Prince Hadreddin of Hybern, Lord of Spring, at your service.”

I couldn’t move. 

Hybern- he was a Prince of Hybern. Was he related to the- no. He didn’t say he was son of the King of Hybern… He said he was… that Tamlin-

There wasn’t enough air in the world. I felt like I was going to faint. I needed Feyre. I needed Feyre to appear and make this all go away before the thought at the edge of my mind took form.

But my sister never appeared, and the thought took form. Confirmed as Haddin turned his attention back to the fire and ground out, “My whore of a mother tried to destroy Prythian. My pathetic excuse for a father might just end Spring. I’m a bit sick of being associated with failures and psychopaths. Someone in this bloodline might as well be useful.”

Prince Hadreddin of Hybern.

Son of the High Lord of Spring.

And the would-be fae queen Amarantha.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #elain archeron #tamlin #feyre #rhysand #spring court #canon divergence #au

[willowwere]

Whispers of Springtime - Chapter 1

Spring has become a fallen Court. Monsters roam the forests, greedy Lords vie for control of the land, and magic everywhere is dying. Refugees are flooding the other Courts, Night most of all. One day, Elain Archeron is kidnapped from Velaris and wakes in Spring. She is the last prayer of a desperate people- if she can find the missing Tamlin and make him fall in love with her by Calanmai, there is a chance to reverse the decay and save the Court. If she fails, Elain will die along with Spring itself.

This story holds all canon up through ACOWAR, with the alteration of Tamlin being Elain's mate.

Archive of Our Own

Chapter 1

Elain

Lights glittered upon the Sidra, the waves twinkling with every color of the rainbow. 

I walked alone, as had become my custom these past few months. A placid smile painted upon my face, nodding politely to the wanderers who crossed my path. Every step measured, every turn part of a careful pattern.

A carefree pattern.

This was my routine. Night after night, week after week, month after month. The same walk along the Sidra at night. The same faces, familiar in passing, and the same rainbows dancing in the waters. 

It was beautiful, I could appreciate that. Velaris was a jewel. There was not a single Court I’d seen that was not lovely in its own way, but there were so many scars. So much loss and destruction in Prythian that it made my heart ache. But Velaris was… relatively untouched. 

Not completely, of course. During the War, Hybern had attacked Velaris and left her with her own scars, but even those had been made lovely. The artists healed the city, and the loss had not been as catastrophic as other areas.

I closed my eyes a moment and tried to remember the Archeron estate as it was. The white marble walls, the towering vines that climbed towards the sky. The stained glass shining in the setting sun…

But all I could see anymore was the destruction that was left after Hybern’s men dragged me from my bed and slaughtered the staff. The ruined husk that was now a fae camp in the human lands.

The human lands.

My heart ached for it. 

Fae eyes muted the colors in that simpler place, and their tongues could not taste the sweetness of human foods. Their noses could only smell the worst smells of life, not the gentle and beautiful ones. 

So, to cover for their own disability, the fae acted like they were so much better than us humans. Like their lands were so superior, while we mortals scraped by in filth and squalor.

Yes, I’d been hungry. Yes, I’d been weak. Yes, as a lady my value was in the heirs I would one day grant my husband… But I still missed that world. Still ached for it. 

Rhysand once told us that he would find a way to make us human again. To undo the damage that was done. But that was so long ago. After the war, he seemed to cling to Feyre for a sense of normalcy. To reassure himself they’d survived.

I waited patiently. I could afford to be patient. Grayson made it clear in the war that I was nothing to him now. A monster. I’d loved him so much, been willing to give him so much… I wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d be waiting for me, that he’d ever love me again. But somehow his face still appeared whenever I thought about returning to the human lands, cured of the fae blood.

I dreamed of what it would be like, going back to the world I belonged to. I couldn’t return to our village, but maybe I could go to the city where no one knew my face. A proper young lady with a mysterious background. 

I’m not sure when I realized Rhysand wasn’t looking for a cure.

I just know that… one day, the longing for home turned into a growing ache in my chest. It changed from a guiding light to a devouring flame, with my spirit as the fuel it consumed.

Walking the streets of Velaris, I tried to see the beauty in it all. But all I could imagine were the human cities and how they must sparkle twice as bright. I didn’t feel fae, didn’t count myself as one of them. I had neither place nor purpose here, because my place and purpose lay far to the south. A world away in the vastness of Prythian.

But if Feyre or Rhysand or Nes or one of the others guessed how I felt, what would they feel? Disappointment? Pity?

So I walked my familiar walk, smiled my familiar smile. 

Over the months, a fog slowly formed around me. It was slight at first, so very slight that I put it aside as nothing more than a moment of idle forgetfulness. A spot of disinterest I was simply too tired to process. But the fog grew thicker over my mind.

Days began to blur. I forgot if I’d watered a plant. Forgot where I’d set my trowel. If I’d eaten lunch, or only thought about eating it. 

By the time I realized I was lost in it, I couldn’t remember how to care.

All I could think about was the life I’d live once I returned to the human lands. Other things became distractions, irrelevant in the broader scope. I did not need to make friends, we’d be parting soon. I didn’t need to buy new clothing, it wouldn’t fit quite right when I was human anyways.

Bit by bit, I disconnected from the world around me, hiding myself behind a mask of warmth and cheeriness for my sisters. Taking my walks, tending my gardens, showing no signs of how lost I really was.

Truth be told, in the moments when I was most honest with myself, I knew things would never go back to the way they were. I knew I could not be un-Made. It only made me sink further and further into myself. Hope and despair. Despair and hope. Hybern’s men had murdered me that horrible day. My spirit was dead. My life was gone… Only my heart refused to acknowledge it.

Refugees clogged the streets closer to the wharf. People of Spring, displaced by the decay that had taken hold. Fleeing north, desperate for safety and protection. Many Courts abandoned them, accusing them of supporting Hybern during the war, of causing crimes, of any and all inconvenience to their lives.

Not caring that these people had lost everything, and through no fault of their own. The males who caused this were either dead or warm in their beds. Lords whose status was untouched throughout it all. Even though their people suffered.

I hated walking by the refugees. Hated hearing the terrors that chased them from their homes as monsters overran Spring. Horrors no person should ever know, that no child should ever see. I felt hopeless when I looked at them, and so I selfishly tried to avoid seeing it. I worked the same charities as Feyre, gave time and money to their efforts, but it felt hollow.

They lost everything, but their eyes still burned with hope for the future. By comparison, I lost nothing, and gained everything… what right did I have to be unhappy? My pain was nothing compared to theirs, and yet it consumed me.

An invisible fist closed around my lungs, trapping the air. 

I turned towards home.

What right did I have to dream of returning to the human world? Of a manor and a comfortable life? What right did I have to complain when so many suffered so much more?

My pain wasn’t worthy of being called pain. So I told myself I was worthless for feeling it. 

“Elain?” my throat closed when I heard Mor’s voice. 

I forced myself to look up at the female I’d nearly crashed into.

Concern lit Mor’s eyes as she reached out to me, steadying me with a hand, “Are you alright? What happened?” the female looked over my shoulder, trying to see if someone were pursuing me.

Fear filled my mouth with a sour tang. I didn’t want Mor’s pity, or worse, for her to find out what was wrong. To have to hear another soothing lecture about how I should accept my fate in Prythian. My throat closed up. 

“It’s alright,” Mor looked around again, this time at the fae around us who were starting to take notice of me.

She guided me towards darkness, a nearby alley without any foot traffic. Mor pulled me into the darkness and raised a glamour to extend the side of the building, isolating us. A sharp, musty scent filled the air.

“I’m fine,” I finally found the words through the muddy waters of my mind. It was another side effect of the fog- sometimes words were… hard. Harder to find than they should be. I could think, I could understand, but making the words myself felt like some impossible task.

“You aren’t,” Mor tightened her grip on my arm. “Did someone hurt you? Was someone chasing you?”

“No, I-” I didn’t know the words. Just the sense of wrongness. That the refugees suffering was my fault somehow, or that I should do more to help them. The sickness that pooled in my stomach whenever I saw them, the self-loathing it raised, what words could convey it? What could explain the selfishness of the feeling? “I- fine. It- I- it’s f-fine.” I ground the words out as I felt them falling from my mind.

I couldn’t say any more than that. I couldn’t grasp the words to pull them together. 

“Okay,” Mor said. “Calm down, just breathe.”

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe properly. I couldn’t even process that I should acknowledge her words in some way. I knew I should, but I was numb to the thought. After too long, I forced a nod.

“What are you doing out here? Are you alone?”

I always go on a walk at this time, and always this path. We’ve seen each other many times. 

I wanted to say that, to feign calm and find a way to explain my fear and silence, but the words wouldn’t travel to my mouth, and the more I tried to think them, the more I found only vague sensations in their place.

Instead, I just said, “Alone.”

“No one else is with you?”

“Alone.”

“When do they expect you back?”

“I’m not… a child,” I managed to form the sentence. “You know-”

It took me too long to realize what had happened. To realize what was still happening. 

When Mor raised the glamour, the smell was sharp and musty at the same time.

But I’d known Mor long enough to know her scent was more citrus-like. Similar to Feyre and Rhysand’s.

This was… like the cedar chips that people in our village had lined horse stables with, when straw was too hard to come by. Damp with rot, and pungent. It was as far from Mor’s scent as it could be.

And I’d just told her I was alone and without expectation of a set return.

I took a hard look at Mor. She wore neither the Illyrian training leathers she favored lately, nor the loose pants and short top of the Night Court. Her lilac gown was out of place in autumnal Velaris, the sleeves too short for the slight chill of the air, the fabric light and nearly sheer. 

It also seemed… worn. Old and ill-kept. Wrinkled. 

I knew I was in trouble, but my heart felt nothing. I felt nothing. A dream, but one where you know you are in a dream and cannot come to real harm- that was what it felt like. 

Running towards the street might have saved me. Calling out, screaming, throwing a shoe- there were options. There were so many options.

But I froze, just long enough for not-Mor’s eyes to fill with fear of her own and for her to reach out and snatch at my arm with black-tipped fingers. Her grip was bone-crushing as she took something out of her pocket and threw it hard at the ground.

Something shattered, the world heaved, and I was ripped away from everything I knew.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #elain archeron #tamlin #mor #morrigan #fanfiction #fanfic #canon divergence #au

[willowwere]

Whispers of Springtime - Prologue

Spring has become a fallen Court. Monsters roam the forests, greedy Lords vie for control of the land, and magic everywhere is dying. Refugees are flooding the other Courts, Night most of all. One day, Elain Archeron is kidnapped from Velaris and wakes in Spring. She is the last prayer of a desperate people- if she can find the missing Tamlin and make him fall in love with her by Calanmai, there is a chance to reverse the decay and save the Court. If she fails, Elain will die along with Spring itself.

This story holds all canon up through ACOWAR, with the alteration of Tamlin being Elain's mate.

Archive of Our Own

Prologue: Tamlin

A trail of smashed flowers marked the doe’s path.

I’d been stalking it for days, the scent barely more than a whisper on the breeze at first, but growing ever stronger. Hunger forced my body forward, ribs painfully clear under my matted fur.

There was a time when the woods were full of doe and elk and any manner of faerie beast. When a hunt took only a few hours, not days.

But that was a long time ago. Before- before so much happened.

The twisting in my stomach had very little to do with hunger. I shoved the memories down firmly. Flashes of brassy hair, the echo of a laugh, the sound of a brush moving against canvas.

I refused to remember those sounds. I couldn’t remember the one they belonged to. Not anymore. Not ever again. Those were echoes of someone else’s memory. Not mine. I didn’t want them. They made me feel… too much.

Anger and grief and hate and agony- too much. It was all too much. Love and loss and pride and pain. I remembered that much, but I wouldn’t remember the rest. Never again.

There was so much darkness in my past. I refused it all. I hollowed out and emptied that place inside me where those memories lived, and ran my claws down the walls until they were shredded into ribbons. Until even the dark places were forgotten.

There was a time when the woods were full of doe and elk and any manner of faerie beast. When a hunt took only a few hours, not days.

But that was a long time ago.

Now the doe’s scent was layered with the stench of rotting bark and a dampness that permeated everything. The flowers reeked of rot and decay even as they bloomed, their color dark and splotchy.

The land was dying.

Everyone thought Spring was a place of endless new growth and blooming flowers, but they forgot that Spring did not begin of its own accord. It grew from the rot of fall, hidden by the beauty of winter snow. Spring was the mud and rain and hollow emptiness that appeared when the ice receded. 

The old days of Spring were a glimmer of a season in bloom.

This was what began it.

My paw sank deep into the water-logged grass. I was spared from the loose mud beneath, but it didn’t matter much. Running through the forest had left my belly and chest coated in splatters of it already. All I cared about was the deer, and if it would hear the wet suckling of the earth as I freed my trapped paw.

I was close. The smell was nearly overpowering.

I inched forward bit by bit, my body so low that I could feel the matted grass tickling my fur. I couldn’t stop for long, not without risking sinking further into the mud. Fae deer were fast, and their maneuverability in the forest would be far superior to mine. 

A sound whispered through the trees and I quickly braced my paws on an exposed root to try and listen. Rhythmic, almost cloying against the ear.

The doe!

I used my senses to tell me what my eyes could not.

It was close- perhaps six yards ahead- likely the other side of the half-dead poplar tree before me. Eating, from the sounds of it, meaning its guard would be lowered somewhat. I had to judge it right. The trees in this part of the forest grew close together, a clever beast could evade me for a while. Especially half-starved. My coordination was faulty at best, and it was difficult to control my strength or agility when I shook with hunger.

Four leaps forward, one to the side, and a small leap forward. I would keep my movements relatively short. If the doe ran towards me, I could easily slash it. If it ran, I could lengthen the stride and throw my force into it.

I listened and waited. The rhythm of the chewing- if I could match it and keep my own movements quiet, then I would have the advantage.

After a long time, I finally made my move.

Quick, sharp leaps. I managed two before the doe paused. Better than I expected. It heard me on the third leap, then by the fourth it made its fateful decision.

The doe ran to the left. I managed to catch sight of it as I lept, and twisted mid-air to rake it’s spine with my claws. There was a sharp scream from the beast as it fell. I’d severed the spine, or close enough.

I didn’t savor my luck. I landed, pivoted, and dove for the creature’s neck, crushing it between my powerful jaws and twisting, breaking bone and tearing muscle. The doe shuddered in my mouth as I panted, ignoring the mud soaking over my paws or the delicious taste of blood filling my mouth.

I waited until it stopped twitching. Waited until I was positive the prey was dead. I felt the life leave it. Felt the moment it went from doe to meat.

Nothing else stirred in the forest. Not a creaking of tree or the step of something on the grass. Not even the whisper of a monster- for there were plenty of those these days.

I ate so fast that I nearly vomited the precious meat back up. There wasn’t much on the doe, she was as hungry as I, but it was enough for right now. I focused on the haunches and belly- areas that had the most to offer. Big, sloppy bites meant to get the most food at the fastest pace, in case something interrupted me.

I kept my ears peeled for even the slightest of sounds, and didn’t let my guard down. I was nearly feral with hunger that only seemed to grow stronger as I ate.

But nothing came to this place. I ate my fill until I could eat no more, then lay down in the muck to crack a leg bone and suck at the marrow.

How long had I lived this way? On the edge of starvation, roaming the wilds for any bunny or deer unlucky enough to cross my path? How long had that gnawing pain been there- or the other, deeper pain in the darkness?

It would be gone by morning, that pain. Gone and forgotten again, at least for a while. 

I felt a bit giddy as the meat digested. My limbs felt less disjointed, even as the energy digestion consumed made the world blur with exhaustion. I hadn’t slept in days. First it was of fear that I wouldn’t find anything to eat, then the hunt for the doe.

Soon enough the monsters of the forest would scent the blood and make their way to fight over the corpse. I was healing too slowly from the last several encounters I’d had, I couldn’t risk another. 

Content melted into despair as I looked at the scraps of meat that still remained. I’d cleaned away the bulk of it, but so much marrow remained. Another meal- when was the last time I had a meal two days in a row? 

But I’d had those thoughts with every kill, and every time I worked up the nerve to remain, some creature attacked and- no matter if I was victorious or not- I was left covered in my own blood.

So I finally pulled myself up onto my paws and dropped the bone I was chewing on. I allowed myself a few minutes more to take the bigger pieces of remaining meat and force them down, then broke off another leg to carry in my teeth. 

Not two meals, but at least a bit of a treat.

With that, I padded off into the forest to put distance between myself and the doe, and find a safe place to spend the night.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #elain archeron #tamlin #fanfiction #fanfic #canon divergence #au