"Now what?", Tamlin grumbles, his body slumped weakly against the tree. His green eyes had not left the spot where the Spring Court Manor had burned to a crisp just mere moments ago. His voice was low and strained.
"Now...we figure out where it is you will stay. Where it is you will heal, Tam", Lucien replies.
Tamlin says nothing, his eyes glued to the ashen rubble.
"But first, you need a meal and a wash. Desperately. In that order."
He finally scoffs, glancing up at him. "We both know there isn't one Fae in any Court of Prythian who would be willing to take me in. Not one. I've exhausted any alliances I've ever had."
Lucien runs a hand down his face. Shit, he's not wrong. There is nobody that would willingly open their doors to Tamlin, not even to save his life. Despite the fact he had put himself in harm's way spying on Hybern for the good of all of Prythian. Harsh, but...Faes aren't usually known for forgiveness or gratitude.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, the words were out of Lucien's mouth before he even realized it. "There is one. Me."
It only took a second for Lucien to cringe internally, knowing that Jurian and Vassa would not be happy at the idea. Not for one second. But, it's his home too, and he refuses to let a male in need 'rot', as Tamlin had mentioned a certain violet-eyed Fae male had spat at him. Just another thing for Lucien to hate Rhys for.
"You", Tamlin says blankly, the word hovering between a statement and a question.
"There are going to be strict rules, and you are to be respectful of my roommates. Every day we will come here and work on building you a new home, and we can help some Court members rebuild the village too. Time management. But you need to eat and take care of yourself. Also, I think helping your people rebuild will strengthen your ties to the Court again. It will not only be good for them, but for you too."
Tamlin stares at him like he had grown another two heads.
"I mean it, Tamlin. I'm really fucking trying here. I am your last lifeline. Your last chance. Your last option. You either take it or leave it, but if I leave here without you, I won't ever be coming back. That is not something I want to do, but if you are truly lost and truly that stone-hearted that you care about nothing and nobody, not even yourself or your court, then maybe you are too far gone and I'm simply the fool everyone thinks me to be for coming back here again."
He watches as Tamlin's gaze drops down to the ground again, and he can tell that he's weighing whether living with the Band of Exiles is worth the torture, or if death is a better option.
"You know...if Beron wasn't evil incarnate, and you had been born first, you would have made a good High Lord, Lucien."
Lucien blinks a few times, in shock. Was that a compliment?
"Thank you", he murmurs, nodding his head in appreciation. "Though I am sure despite his many many faults and flaws, Eris will be a better High Lord than Beron when the fucker finally dies."
"You mean when someone gets pissed enough to off him."
"Most likely Eris himself, yes."
"You're too forgiving to that asshole. He's tried to have you killed", he growls annoyedly.
Lucien notices the note of anger flash in Tamlin's eyes, and what he really meant. 'He tried to have you /and Feyre/ killed'. God help him, the male still loves her.
"Yes, well he isn't the only one who's nearly killed me before", he responds pointedly.
Tamlin sighs and leans his head back against the tree again, the sun on his grief ravaged face as he squints up at him. "I—"
"You didn't mean it, you were grieving, your powers thrive off of your anger...I know. I've heard it all before, Tam. And hey, I'm still here."
Tamlin swallows hard and guilt threatens to rip him apart again from the inside out as he looks at his friend, golden metallic eye clicking with each blink, whirring with every adjustment of his fake pupil, and reflecting the sun like a topaz gem.
"You should have let me die here", he says flatly.
"What good would that do anyone? Even if you weren't someone I don't want to see perish, the Spring Court would be open land. It would only cause another war between courts, fighting over the land. This place, what it was, what it could be again...it would cease to exist, molding into the Autumn or Summer Courts or both if split. There would be no more spring. Quite the pity too. When you saved me centuries ago, it was warm and inviting and just...serene. Everything I had wished the Autumn Court could be as a child. You had made it that way. The people were no longer scared of their High Lord. Your father was dead, he was no longer a terror to anyone. Tensions had settled."
Tamlin stays quiet, listening, remembering the times before Amarantha and when he and Feyre had first met, how spectacular his Court had been, before speaking.
"I let them corrupt me", he says, his voice foreign to him as it catches in his throat, alluding to his father and brothers. "I was never who I was, who I wanted to be. I was forced into this role with their deaths. A role I was not fit for, nor ready for. All I had was the old ways, his ways. Aside from the terror...I kept the madness. Feyre begged me to change some of the laws. I told her I couldn't. It's not because I didn't want to, it's because I don't know how. If I loosen the reigns...I didn't want to look weak, being the youngest High Lord, if only by a measly year. But it seems I am overtaken despite that."
"You let everything that happened overtake you. But now, you have the choice to get back up and fix things. To be a better male, a better High Lord than your father thought you'd be. You could make him claw at his grave with the changes you'd make. With the kindness you'd show. It starts with you healing yourself, though."
Lucien blinks and his gold eye clicks as he holds out a hand, steady and unrelenting.
"What about Jurian and...Vassa, the human?", he says, trying to hide his sneer.
"I'll handle them. But as I said, there will be rules, and you'll have to follow them."
"You sound like my mother, Luc", he grumbles.
"Wait til you live with Vassa, you'll take that back quickly."
Tamlin takes a ragged breath and holds out his blood-encrusted hand, firmly grasping Lucien's as he is hauled to his unsteady feet.
"To blank pages", he muses.
"To fresh starts", Tamlin mutters, silently grateful for this male who showed him a friendship that he never deserved.
Lucien pinches the bridge of his nose as Tamlin wobbles on his feet, his frail form barely holding himself together.
"Stay still. I'll do some healing. But it won't help with your malnourishment, only your energy. It's magical energy, so it'll wear off. Keep that in mind."
"I know how magic works, Lucien."
"Just stay still", Lucien snaps, Tamlin's nonstop attitude grating on his nerves as he ghosts a hand over his form.
With that, the blood and dirt disappear from Tamlin's body and tattered clothing, and he stops swaying.
"There. Good enough. Now at least you'll survive the winnow to the Band of Exiles' Manor."
"How have none of you been slaughtered by the humans yet? They despise our kind. Is there a shield to prevent them from knowing you're there?"
"No, just luck so far", he mutters.
"When I get my energy up...I'll enforce a shield."
"That would be helpful."
"Good."
"Good."
Lucien grunts as he grabs the small trunk with Tamlin's mother's belongings. "I wish your beast was as helpful as it is broody."
Tamlin shrugs. "Not one to be tamed I suppose."
"He'd better learn to. You destroy this Manor and I'll kill you myself."
Lucien's words are laced with venomous honesty and Tamlin reels a bit.
"I'll try."
"Let's go."
Lucien grabs his shoulder and winnows just outside the Manor in the mortal lands.
"I mean it. You feel pissed or overwhelmed, or you think your beast will make an appearance you leave into the woods or you tell me to winnow you somewhere. Are we understood? You don't get three strikes, you get zero here. That is the luxury of having a millionth chance."
Tamlin swallows hard and nods, knowing that if he fucks this up, he will truly have nobody left.