Chapter Text
Shadows flickered and danced their way across the bed chambers where the Fae sat slumped in his worn seat. Sweat glistened on his brow while an ache radiated from his skull, sending rolling pains down from his shoulders towards his spine. Truthfully, the fire was too uncomfortable but waking in the darkness and twisting away from false figures was overwhelming.
Dark rings sat promptly under his eyes, announcing their presence, and claiming victory over another sleepless victim. There was little pride in his appearance, but he snarled at the thought of his farce ending when someone truly confronted him about his nightmares. No one dared to meet the High Lord’s gaze. Perhaps he still held a sliver of intimidation and power before….no he, wouldn't think about it. Not when he had just suffered a night terror.
A glass of whiskey appeared in his hand. He took a long drink savoring the burn that fell to the pit of his stomach. If he couldn’t sleep, then he’d drink, and with a firmer resolve, he rose going towards the decanter full of wine. After topping the glass off, he greedily swallowed and felt the familiar weight shift away from the center of his body. If he drank enough, that same weight could float away into the night and never return. He stifled a snort at the thought and drained the glass before refilling it a second, then a third time.
By the fourth cupful, his balance was swaying, and his eyes were glazed. He had enough sense to stumble back to his bed and fall against the damp sheets, courtesy of the sweat-induced terror he awoke from nearly an hour ago. His vision blurred, and after taking a deep breath, he allowed his addled brain to drift away into a sleep filled with nothing but emptiness. He believed that’s where his soul was, and he was eager for the two to merge into one.
His body convulsed across the twisted sheets as his eyes flew open. He hadn’t remembered drifting off, but his body knew and refused him the security and vulnerability that came with sleep. Not when he swore he felt her fingers trace his upper arms only to curve and grip his throat with sharpened nails. Tamlin rose and nearly fell off the bed as he rushed into the bathing chambers adjacent to the room, slipping against the cool floor before his body collapsed against the toilet. He heaved with a mighty tremor.
Wine and whiskey spewed from his mouth, once again burning his throat with acidity so intense his eyes watered while the stench filled his nose. Golden hair draped in front of his eyes, coming loose from the leather thong, drenched in sweat and partial bile. Another wave of intense nausea had him facing the toilet once more. He did nothing to hide the noises and labored breathing while he finished the second round. When hadn’t he thrown up from night terrors and phantom touches with words whispering around him? A third and final heave settled his stomach as he draped his head against the lid. Utter defeat coursing through him.
Tamlin sat there for hours, his body growing numb against the cool marble floors and walls. If he had enough energy, then he would crawl back into the bedroom. Not onto the bed though, the floor was far more tempting. His resolve crumbled, and instead, he whisked his fingers in the direction of the large bathtub. The pipes bursting with hot water and enough steam that the mirrors fogged over thickly. Good. He had no desire to see himself in this current state.
He shrugged out of his stained and torn clothes before slipping into the scorching water. Tamlin only allowed his body a few seconds to adjust to the heat, and without hesitating, dunked his entire body underwater. The bathtub nearly took up the bathing chambers, shaped like a large square pool with steps lining the edges, but he swam for the middle and submerged himself again. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust underwater, and he felt his hair float up and behind him.
A gentle caress reminded Tamlin that eventually, he would need to come back up for air. Instead, he forced himself to sink lower, reaching the bottom and skimming his fingertips over the mosaic surface. The water was perhaps the only thing that soothed him, its presence comforting and allowing him to float rather than claw and fight his way out. An instinct that was so ingrained in his blood, he was convinced it came from his father’s traits. But he didn’t want to think of that. No, he didn’t want to think at all. He’d rather float in silence and watch the water shimmer and flow above him.
He could hold his breath for long periods due to the Spring Court’s Generals and Captains, who trained the soldiers to swim and maneuver in the water. But for him, time was no barrier, unlike mortals who needed to resurface and fill their lungs with air. Maybe one day, he would time himself and see how well the training truly paid off, but for now, he stretched out onto his back and continued to watch the surface. That was until a distant figure appeared at the pool’s edge with a tilted head and crossed arms.
Tamlin stiffened, an inner coil wound tightly, and it took nearly all his control not to leap out with claws extended. But as his eyes narrowed, the figure cleared, and with relief stood his head servant Alis. The older woman hardly looked pleased, and with a push upwards, Tamlin swam to the surface and broke through the lapping water.
“Alis?” he questioned with a raw voice, not bothering to hide that from her.
She was watchful, silently judging yet never uttering a word. “Lord Tamlin, it’s nearly dawn, and your Council is anticipating your arrival within the next hour or so. Shall you continue your swim with the merfolk, or would you like to dress and prepare for the day?” she spoke plainly.
Truthfully, Tamlin would have responded that swimming with merfolk would be far more successful than interacting with a court. A court that either resented or distrusted him, though they never voiced such opinions out loud. “Let me wash, and I shall be ready to meet them for breakfast,” he spoke with intent, and Alis watched him with a stern gaze before she nodded in her resolve.
“I’ll have another servant come and clean your chambers once you join the others,” she ordered and, without a second glance, walked out of the bathing chambers. For a moment, Tamlin watched the older woman with her proud and straight shoulders and thought that perhaps she was far more worthy of ruling the Spring Court. Nevertheless, her anger was something he steered clear.
In the next ten minutes, he thoroughly washed and cleaned himself, his day outfit showing no signs of vomit, alcohol, or sweat. Buckling the belt in place and slipping into the worn boots, he looked at himself in the mirror for the first time. His cheekbones were sharp and hollow, and the circles underneath his eyes were at their darkest yet. But they wouldn’t say anything, not without fearing his temper and brash tongue.
Without a second thought, Tamlin left the room and turned down the hall, searching for the stairs which accessed the kitchens and dining hall. He had little desire to make an entrance at the formal stairs. Once long ago, he would have, but now all attention directed at him felt like a hundred knife blades digging into his back and piercing him to immobility. The servants were scattered across the mansion, limiting their interactions with him, giving silent nods or bows when passing. But, Alis always had a say in how she greeted Tamlin.
With a growling stomach, Tamlin passed through the doors and into the extravagant dining room. He was the first to arrive and, with casual indifference, seated himself at the head of the table.
The platters consisted of fresh berries and cream, steaming teapots, pastries, rolls, and fried meats, all of which turned Tamlin’s mouth dry and flipped his stomach. Although he did reach for a pitcher of chilled juice and carefully poured it into a glass. Tamlin slowly sipped at the juice and kept a hand on the chair's armrest. Just as the clock struck seven, the doors opened, and the council members filed inside the room.
While some appeared irritated that the meeting occurred so early, others quickened their pace at the sight of the extravagant meal before them. Nearly all stopped when they saw Tamlin, and with bows and murmurs, greeted the High Lord.
He lazily waved a hand among the group urging them to sit and begin their morning meal. The chatter was quiet as they set about eating and drinking, but Tamlin allowed his mind to wander. If the meeting went well, then perhaps Tamlin would go out to patrol the borders later. It was the only activity worth doing these days, and it kept his body sharp though his mind often went dull. The time passed by slowly. Tamlin refilled his glass and surprisingly drained it, catching one or two pairs of eyes before they shifted quickly in fear of being caught. The Spring Court’s General, however, cleared his throat, the room growing quiet.
“Shall our meeting begin?” he asked, and Tamlin leaned forward.
***
The meeting had not gone well. Although, Tamlin had to give credit to everyone. The curses and insults only tallied at nearly a hundred after the four hours finished. Secretly, Tamlin’s entertainment was fulfilled simply by listening to each raving speech, and the insults that were hardly appropriate for the public. He didn’t interfere, propping his chin up with a fist and listening to each argument or watching a map meet its end with a dagger. Before, he would’ve interfered, lecturing that bickering adults were no better than bickering children. But the effort to stand and scold the group was too much, not when he had spent the entire night sick and drinking.
As the last council member departed, Tamlin rose from his seat and stripped his coat, feeling too confined within the fabric. He decided, at last, that he would make his rounds at the border. Without a second thought, his body shifted forms as he bounded through a set of back doors leading directly into the woods.
The wind cooled him instantly, and the smell of grass and pine settled into his bones with a welcomed relief. He was finally away from the four walls that trapped him every night. Tamlin once considered sleeping in the woods, hiding from all the memories that haunted him. Yet, ever-growing creatures at the border proved too much of a threat. Bogges were reportedly found twenty miles east of the mansion.
The villagers nearby feared that their defenses wouldn’t be enough to guard the younger Fae. Tamlin had a sentry reassure the villagers that their High Lord would personally oversee the threat and eliminate the creatures. Not that Tamlin minded perhaps, one day, he could prove himself worthy of anyone or anything. But for now, he remained in the shadows, hunting, and tracking.
By the time he reached the woods, the Bogge's scents were increasingly stronger. Tamlin scouted the forest line before setting off through the thickets and shrubs that deterred predators. His eyes flickered about, but the low chirping from the birds above, and the leaves rustling among the forest floor, eased the tension as he crossed over streams and glens. The ease was short-lived. To his right, a branch snapped while an overwhelming stench of decay flooded around him. They were here.
Tamlin softened his steps finding a low-hanging willow tree with foliage thick enough to hide. His muscles tightened in anticipation and, with narrowed eyes, followed the faint movements hinting at the Bogge’s presence. Tamlin unleashed a snarl at the Bogge’s cowardice. They had no problem attacking defenseless Fae but couldn’t step out to face the High Lord. They knew he lurked in the shadows just as they did, and when the timing was right, then they would strike.
“Do you know what we see in your darkness?
Blood, and gnashing teeth with painful screams.
Let us approach, and you shall receive our remedy.
What do you say Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court?”
Tamlin was baring his teeth, his legs coiling, readying to launch at the enemy. He would give them another moment, let them sit with their arrogance and satisfaction from their murders. A breeze stirred, but a different smell caught in the wind, and Tamlin blinked back his startled reaction. The clicking nails and snapping branches lured him back into focus, and without hesitation, struck at one Bogge, finally revealing itself among the trees.
Tamlin pounced with claws extended, knocking the first Bogge to the ground, who in return let out a bloody scream. It was quickly silenced by a deep slash through its throat, blackened blood leaking profusely from the injury. Blood and death flooded onto Tamlin, clinging to his face and body, while he shook his head, the droplets of blood flying off. In just mere seconds, another Bogge launched itself across the clearing and latched onto Tamlin.
Its skeletal hands were digging into his fur and ripping deeper into the flesh with piercing nails. He let out a roar, and adjusting his body in a single twist, had the Bogge slamming against a tree trunk and crushing the bones into dust.
A third leaped from the branches above, brandishing a dagger aimed at his throat. With a striking blow, Tamlin swiped the Bogge away, the two tumbling onto the ground and rolling among the grass. He breathed deeply, attempting to regain his balance while the Bogge slithered and circled Tamlin. “Someone else is here…” The Bogge grinned with an inky blackness threatening to swallow its face whole as it turned to sniff the air. It shifted its body, and just as it made its first steps towards the hidden figure, Tamlin's magic disintegrated the Bogge in its spot.
He sank to the ground momentarily, trying to catch his breath, but his eyes landed on another pair. They were peeking out of the bushes, so dark that he might’ve missed them the first time. Tamlin rose and stalked to the eyes that widened as they pulled away. Realizing that they were attempting to escape, Tamlin pushed off the ground and shredded through the branches and vines. To his surprise, a young woman reeled back, clutching at the cloak around her with one hand and holding a simple knife in the other. Her scent was different…but this was an intruder among his lands.
He barely had time to register the figure in front of him when the woman, with her dark eyes, spun around so quickly that her cloak flew up. She launched herself deeper into the woods, sprinting away from Tamlin. He let out a roar that shook the trees and rattled the grounds he stood upon, chasing after the woman and her haunting eyes.
***
All she knew was that she had to run. Fast. She ducked under fallen branches and swept past thick bushes which snared her cloak and hair. A mighty roar left her limbs weaker, but the thought of what that beast would do to her if caught sent a bolt of adrenaline through her legs. Jumping over a fallen trunk left her sliding down the hill before she stopped herself at the banks of a rushing river. The crash of trees and rocks signaled that the creature wasn’t far behind her and seemed to only gain speed.
Grunting, she peeled off her boots and cloak, flinging them further up the hill, hoping that the scent would distract him while she continued her escape. She hurriedly tied her dagger to the makeshift belt at her waist, and she faced the river before her. It wouldn’t be pleasant, and Cauldron damn her, but she’d rather face a watery grave than be brutally ripped apart. Just as the beast broke through the clearing above her, she turned and dived into the river, letting the current pull her further downstream.
The water roared in her ears while stones and branches slammed into her from all sides, adding to the developing bruises and cuts she received earlier. She couldn't grasp anything, and she wouldn’t risk sticking her hands out only to have her fingers broken and rendered useless. A particular current slammed her against a rock, but she curled inward, shielding her body from the worst blows.
Her body was dragged downwards and swept through a waterfall, forcing her up through the surface as she sputtered and coughed out the water, nearly drowning her lungs. Her vision was blurred, mixed with the water and blood gushing from a gash obtained on her forehead. Inhaling as deeply as one could, her head was once more plunged below the surface and carried further out. She wouldn’t fight the sensations pulling at her though it was her only aid at escaping whatever that thing was.
Time passed so slowly underwater. When the waves finally ebbed, she allowed them to guide her battered body to a pebbled bank line. Her lungs ached fiercely, and as she turned slowly onto her stomach, she began spewing out the water and dirt consumed during her escape. Tendrils of damp hair clung to her forehead, and she sank her face into the ground, breathing in its scent and hoping her body could move within the next minute. She closed her eyes and counted her heartbeats, allowing its thrum to settle the rattled nerves. Her head felt heavy while trying to push herself up onto her forearms.
She lifted her head, checking her surroundings when she came face to face with a snarling set of teeth coated in blood. The same snarl from the beast she was running from earlier. Her eyes widened, and she tried to scramble back only to have the sharp rocks cut at the palms of her hands and heels. Wincing and cradling her hands to her chest, her breath was short, and she couldn’t look at anything but the beast standing before her.
“Who are you?” the thing growled, and she angled her head away from it. The beast didn’t give her a chance to ask what it meant before it repeated the question.
The woman stared blankly at the beast before whispering it under her breath. His eyes narrowed, a startling green she noted to herself but held her gaze steady. “You’re not a wraith, there’s no reason to speak like one,” he snarled, and she twisted a rock into her grasp.
“Lilith! My name is Lilith you brute!” she spat out, not hesitating as she flung the rock at the creature’s head, watching it bounce rather pathetically from his face.
She turned to grab another, figuring she’d get another throw in before she met her demise. But as she twisted around, a paw knocked her off balance, the rock tumbling to the water.
The claws lightly dug into her ribcage, and Lilith winced as a hot breath fanned her face. “How did you enter my lands?” the creature growled, and it took nearly all her courage not to move.
“I traveled by foot…your lands?” she panted lightly, feeling the air escape her lungs faster than it was entering.
“My lands,” the beast confirmed and bristled at the paling face before him.
“The forest doesn’t belong to anyone,” the woman spoke boldly, immediately regretting it as a roar thundered her ears.
“Do you not know who I am?” Tamlin all but shouted, yet it was clear from her expression that she couldn’t think of a response. He took a deep breath, contemplating the decisions before him. It was clear that there were still creatures haunting the forest, and from the Bogge’s warning, it was unlikely that the woman would survive the night.
The mansion was large enough that if he brought her there, their interactions would be limited. And yet she could very well reject the offer of shelter until she continued from wherever she was going.
“These woods are brimmed with creatures that will hunt and torture you, just as you saw from earlier,” Tamlin warned and gave the air a quick sniff. “I don’t recommend staying out here for too long.” The woman, Lilith, opened her mouth, preparing her argument until a shriek from further within the woods stilled her.
“And what do you suppose I do?” she said fiercely, waiting until the shriek’s echo disappeared from around them.
“My home has many rooms. You may stay there on the condition that you tell me how you found my lands and made your way this far into the forest,” he spoke, wondering if this was a wise choice, but another shriek, this time closer than before, had the woman nodding her head quickly in agreement.
“Alright,” she mumbled more to herself and the proposition she just agreed to.
“Get up,” Tamlin ordered and shifted backward, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. Lilith stumbled upwards, managing her balance, and stepping closer to the golden-haired beast.
“I deserve at least one answer,” she broke the silence, and he huffed but didn’t interject, "Names hold value, you know mine, but who are you?” she waited for a response, and as he turned to leave, her shoulders sank from exhaustion and fear until his quiet response rang in her ears.
"I am Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court.”