Sarah J Maas Fanfiction
A/N: I do not own any of the locations or any familiar characters; all rights go to the incredible Sarah J Maas.
I used to think my life was nice. I used to think it was good. My parents had good jobs working in the Spring Manor, and there was not much wrong in my life. Until my parents died that awful night, when Night's High Lord came and murdered Tamlin's parents, then died himself, leaving young Rhysand as the High Lord, and Tamlin as one too.
Tamlin moped for days, and it was visible to all of us when his grief turned to anger, and that anger to rage, which hardened into something hard and gleaming, and infinitely dangerous.
My grief over the loss of my parents was the worst I had ever felt, still is to this day. And then the rages came. He would lose control, shattering through everything, destroying rooms at a time. He never thanked those of us who cleaned up those rooms and replaced that furniture from the surrounding towns. Lucien helped. He calmed him down, and always thanked us afterwards.
Despite the rages, I still believed my life was good. I was payed. I had enough to pay the Tithe every time it came around. But then the War came. Endless hours of serving tea in meetings between the High Lords. Of cleaning up Tamlin's rooms after he lost it again and again.
Finally, years later, we had peace. The Wall was in place, the humans free below it. I was happy. But then came the women. Tamlin's women. His toys. Playthings. He only took the lower faeries, or the High Fae without families. The ones who no one would fight for. He took them against their will and used them for his own pleasure until they broke. Either mentally, and killed themselves, or physically. I can still remember the night.
Tamlin was in his room with his latest toy, a small woman called Magenta. She was a tiny High Fae, delicate boned and short, and very pretty. She screamed when they came. She had fought against the lords' sons when they came to collect her for Tamlin's purposes. She had screamed and screamed. Tamlin called for the nearest servants, and I went running to his room. I opened the door.
Tamlin lay on the bed, tangled in the sheets. Magenta lay beside him, her body skewered on him like a head on a stake. She wasn't moving. He said they had been going hard when he heard a crack. He had literally used her until he snapped her spine. He had killed her and didn't seem the least bit sad about it. If anything, he seemed annoyed that now he had to find another one to use until they died.
I can still remember the night they came for me in vivid detail.