Crowned- an ACOTAR collection
Word Count: 546
Summary: A collection of one-shots about how the people of Prythian, Hybern, and the Mortal Lands came into their respective powers.
Author's note: God, this was an interesting idea and I've already written like six of these. I'm not doing them in any particular order and I won't listen to requests for a new chapter or anything. These are written strictly when inspiration starts.
Chapter One- Rhysand
The war began as soon as their heads were found.
We never recovered their bodies, but the image is seated in my mind to this day- my sister's head, eyes wide, bloody, raven hair wet and slick, mouth twisted in an eternal, terrible scream. My mother's eyes, closed, a serene expression on her face, awaiting death. Her own hair, jagged and cut.
I was supposed to be there. Supposed to have my head there. In a box. Matching theirs. The idea was sickening.
And Tam. Tam sold me out. Tam. Tam, who I thought was my friend, helped slaughter my sister, my mother.
No, not Tam. Tamlin. Tam is what his friends were to call him. Tamlin was no friend of mine.
My father took me aside. Asked me. About revenge.
It took only a second for me to accept.
"But don't kill his mother," I whispered. "Promise me."
Because while Tamlin had betrayed me, while his brothers had been monsters, the Lady had been kind to me. She- she never hurt a soul. And she reminded me of my own mother, albeit gentler.
My father only nodded.
We were there in minutes. Tamlin's brothers raised their weapons and found they couldn't. Their minds thrashed, but eventually they all melted, and I continued killing. Even when they were all dead, I bloodied their bodies, stabbing them over and over. My father slipped into the Lord's room and I heard the sickening snap of bone.
I followed him, and there he was, The former High Lord, barely breathing, his limbs severed from his body, his eyes gouged out, bloody, but alive. A single ash spear through the stomach pinned him to the ground. My father let him suffer.
And next to him, the Lady of Spring lay dead, her neck snapped, her blue eyes lifeless and terrified.
You promised. You PROMISED.
Because he had.
"You promised." My father said nothing, chest heaving.
"Promises are easily made and easily broken."
I thought of my promise to Mor, how easy it had been to make, how hard it had been to break.
"You're wrong."
He didn't seem to hear me as he made his way to the door.
"Father."
He turned into the hall towards…
Cauldron, he was turning towards Tamlin's room.
"Father, stop."
I followed him, but he still drew his blade, dripping with the blood of the Spring Court.
"STOP!"
I threw my hands up, dropped my blade, and my father looked at me, breathing heavily, sword on the floor.
I would replay this moment over and over in my dreams.
The door in front of him opened, and there stood Tamlin.
A second passed, and his nostrils flared as he sniffed the air.
And then rage flew over his face and, using sheer strength, punched my father into the opposite wall.
I heard the crack echo, and my father slumped to the floor.
Somewhere down the hall, the High Lord of Spring took his last, feeble. breath.
And then power flooded my senses, flowing from my father to me, and I saw light flow from down the hall into Tamlin.
I stood there like a fool while we were both titled High Lord.
"I'm sorry," I told him.
A heartbeat passed.
And I began to run.