The sunshine glares brightly in the Spring Court. Lucien has been there for the last two days helping as much as he can with preparations for the grand reopening festival, and unfortunately, though spirits have been high and everyone seems more than gleeful, the High Lord has sunk into a bad spot once again. He stopped being the softer version of himself almost immediately after their last chat, resorting to his usual gruffness and grumpiness.

So while the villages and many of the members of Spring are delighted, the air seems to have been sucked out of the Manor once more. Briar wonders if she has done anything wrong since he has hardly even glanced in her direction. He hasn't shown up during meals either, which can't be healthy. She knows he has been under a ton of pressure and the paperwork is piling up on his desk, but she hopes he can stop and smell the roses, so to speak, sometime soon.

She has been here for four days, and so far, he has been nothing but hospitable. Confusing and a bit neurotic, but everyone has treated her well at least. Maybe the conversation they had a couple of days ago was too much for him—some people hate being vulnerable and they can overthink about if they overshared. She prays that he doesn't feel like she would use it against him, but knowing what she does about his history, she wouldn't be shocked if that's what is freaking him out at the moment on top of all the work he has to get done.

He has been away all day, most likely sulking in his beast form, which she has yet to actually see.

That night after dinner, which Tamlin did not attend again, she makes her way up to her bedroom and changes into her nightgown, sighing. As she exits her room once again, she sees a light coming from his study and grins. Finally. Maybe she will bring him some tea to relax him.

.

.

.

Timid steps enter the study of the Spring Court Manor. Tamlin's isolation could only mean one thing—something that Lucien has tried hard to chase away from his friend, but it's stubborn. A sign of emotional downfall for the male of eternal blooms.

Cold green eyes immediately flick upwards and pierce into hers as Briar takes small strides towards the large desk and the bulky male that sits hunched over piles of paperwork. Once close, she freezes slightly, captivated by the raw power emanating in waves from his muscled form.

His lip curls in slight annoyance and his deep voice grumbles. "What is it now? Is it not enough that I give you a tour of my Court and home to vacation for the next however many days until you decide your business is finished here?"

Briar swallows but puffs out her chest and strolls forward again until she reaches him at his desk, gently setting down a large mug of aromatic tea in front of him. "I have noticed that you have been stressed lately. I can't imagine all the work that must go into rebuilding and the effects of everything that happened. I-I know that things take a toll, and I know that a small gesture won't change any of that but I—"

"You're rambling."

She nods curtly. "I made you some tea. It's an herbal blend with notes of lavender. It should help calm your muscles and tamp down your headache."

He looks at her incredulously and raises an eyebrow. "How would you know if I had a headache?" He means to ask gruffly but it comes off as intrigued. Ah, a small peek at the male who shared some insecurities with her days ago.

Feeling a newfound boldness, she leans over the desk a bit, so they're nearly nose to nose. "Your forehead gets scrunched up and you keep pinching the bridge of your nose. Also, you huff and grumble a hell of a lot more, which I could hear about every ten minutes from my room down the hall.

His green eyes shift and glimmer slightly as if challenged. "Is that so?"

"That is so", she replies matter-of-factly.

"Well, I'm so sorry I have annoyed my humble guest with my own presence in my own home."

"You haven't, I'm just pointing out the fact that you need to relax a bit more and stop being so strung out."

"There's far too much work to be done to relax, Lady."

"It's Briar. Just call me by my name. And work needs to be balanced such as everything else, or you will only lose yourself to your beast." She straightens up and folds her hands in front of her. "Again", she quips, tossing him a withering look.

His jaw ticks. He can only imagine the types of stories the Winter Court cooked up about him. He knows it was no secret to the other courts that he had lived as his beast for months on end. "If I did, I don't see how that's any of your concern."

"Maybe not. But it would be a damn shame to see the beauty of this Court wither yet again due to the downfall of its High Lord. You spent too much time, effort, and care rebuilding and reworking from what seems like ashes, to have it all go to waste."

"Well, it's not like you'd be here to witness it. You can flee at any time."

"That's a possibility, but not one I am very interested in. Not now anyway."

"Give it time", he growls. "I'm sure you'll be packing your bags the moment something goes awry."

"Is that what you think of me?"

"That is what I know from past experience."

"Because of what happened with Feyre?"

She could swear a cloud appears over his head, darkening his face. "Not just her."

Briar meets his partial gaze, hidden slightly by his blonde hair, and she can see the pain filling them from the past. "Well you should know that I don't run from my problems, nor do I abandon those I claim to care about. Regardless of the situation. It won't be easy to scare me away if that's what you're thinking of doing."

He snorts and takes a tentative sip of the tea. His facial muscles relax a bit, and he peers into the mug. "This is...quite good."

"Something my mother taught me."

Tamlin sighs and rubs his face, pushing his golden hair away from his spring green eyes. "The point remains, you may think you're tough now, but when things get rough here, you'll leave too. That's how it goes. That's how it's gone since my father and his father and down the bloodline of High Lords who were evil and ruthless. Which is quite funny if you think about how they were High Lords of growth and prosperity."

Briar's eyes soften and she motions to a chair. "May I?"

He grunts slightly and lightly tosses the paperwork in his hand onto his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose.

She pulls over a chair gently, her pale blue nightgown swishing with movement before she sits across from him. "The bloodline doesn't matter. They aren't you, and they're gone. You have a chance to change everything, and you are. You're doing great things for this Court now, High Lord."

A slow smirk crosses his face, and an amused look comes to his face. "Just Tamlin."

Briar smiles and nods. "Right, if you insist."

"I do. And I know they're gone. But the effects are not, and having their blood means having their powers, which is...", he trails off a bit before continuing. "...a monster in and of itself."

"Hm. If you don't have any hope of controlling your powers then I mustn't."

Tamlin's head shoots up and he looks at her curiously. "What?"

"You know I was turned fae...by Hybern, by the Cauldron. Like Feyre's sisters. There are these powers swirling inside of me that I-I don't know how to manage either. All I know is that they're really strong."

"Do you know what ability you possess?"

"I know what it does, but not what it's called. Sometimes things just happen because I think of them, and I don't mean it to. I was going to ask you, but...you've been MIA lately."

"Show me." He sits up, rigid, and grips the arms of his chair.

"I-I don't know if I can do it on command."

"It's alright", his tone softens. "Just try."

Briar nods and motions to a notebook. "May I have a piece of paper?"

He hands her a piece and leans forward, watching her intensely. Passing a glance at him, she focuses on the paper and tries to block everything out but one thought, her eyes slipping closed.

Before his eyes a drawing of a perfect rose appears on the page, then seems to erupt from it, as if growing from soil.

Opening her eyes, she gasps and gapes at her creation, her eyes flicking to Tamlin's. He catches her gaze and sends her a weak smile.

"That's...something." His eyes tell her that it is nothing good, however. "You seem to have been gifted projection."

"How come you seem hesitant?", she asks, placing the paper and the very real rose on his desk.

"Projection is—was—a power equal to misting. It's opposite, once called manifest. It went extinct along with the downfall of the Dusk Court, centuries before I was alive. Dusk and Night had been ruled by twin brothers. Dusk Court brother never had a mate or wed, and died childless, his power returning to the Cauldron. Night Court brother has a bloodline, which was through Rhys's cousin, Morrigan's, family line, but the magic took a detour when one generation, her direct familial line was apparently weaker than his, and it ended up with Rhysand's grandfather, father, and now him. Rhysand is regarded as the most powerful High Lord because he has the power of misting. And now—gods, you have manifesting, his equal power, Briar."

Briar looks at him confusedly and wrings her hands in her lap, shocked at the news of being so powerful when she was once simply human.

Tamlin sighs. "You can think of anything and manifest it into existence. Project it into real life. Where you can make things, misting takes away. Briar, you are one of the most powerful people in all of Prythian now."

She breathes out and looks at him in shock. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that information."

"Anything you like. Hopefully productive though, my powers aren't as flexible. Mine actually tend to ruin too."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Just—everything...that you went through. That you're still going through or always have, maybe. Nobody should have to live so tensely because of their circumstance. Viviane told me what she knew about your past. She was explaining why you may not be friendly. But I like to make my own assessments of others, as I had told you before. Your grumpiness doesn't scare me off or bother me, it saddens me. Because I know it must stem from the life you've endured. So, I'm sorry you've had to live that way. I hope things will change soon for you, Tamlin."

He sucks in a breath and seems to hold it, genuinely taken aback by how she seems to actually care. Letting it out, he mumbles "thanks", rolling his shoulders and sipping the tea she brought him once again.

"I heard some good things from Lucien too, so don't think my opinion is too swayed. Plus, you've been a gracious host, however quiet and grumpy."

Tamlin looks at her and she can see the pure exhaustion on his face, his look weathered and so pained it's nearly unfeeling and numb. Her gaze softens and he looks away, ashamedly.

He grumbles. "Close the door on your way out."

Pushing her chair out, she cautiously walks around to him and massages his shoulders. She couldn't believe he could get any more tightly wound than he already was, but somehow, he does. "Relax", she whispers. "You have been doing all the work around here. Let me repay you. You are so tense, it looks painful."

Tamlin stretches his neck and sighs deeply, nodding and allowing her to rub the knots from his shoulders.

"I don't want to overstep or force you to share things you'd rather not. But I recognize that you've been hurt and betrayed before. Many times if I remember correctly. And I assume this is why your default is to push everyone away, push me away. You think I'll do the same, take what I know about you and use it against you or abandon you altogether. Not that I'm important or that you know me very well, but I won't. I'm sure you've heard that before. But like I said, I don't scare easily."

He rubs his face with one hand. "I'll fuck up so badly that you'll have no choice but to leave. That's how it's always been. Either that or you'll choose to leave as Lucien did."

"Well, there are things you don't know about me too. One, I had an uncle who had this...this human disease of the brain, called dementia. It made him extremely forgetful and on occasion very violent. My mother was his caretaker. But he never remembered afterward, and it was never his intention to hurt my mother or myself; the disease made him act and do things he never would have if he were healthy. He eventually died of it. But my mother and I adjusted and coped. And then my mother got sick shortly after Now, I know that it's not nearly the same thing, because you are immortal and disease like that can't affect you, but your magic does. You said it yourself. That you feel like your powers, your beast, is a monster inside of you."

Clenching his jaw he sits back and peers back over the desk at her as she returns to sit cross-legged on the chair again. "You're very astute."

"Yes, I am."

"It's not something I can train or control. It—it works with my emotions. Anytime I feel anything negative, it's like I'm not allowed to. My magic explodes, and I become the literal bull in the china shop. Do you know what it's like for people to tell you not to feel? To regulate your fucking emotions? I'm not allowed to feel, to get upset. Nobody understands what it's like to be a shapeshifter, they think it's just that; shifting into my beast on command, but it's not. It's like its own entity inside of me, that culminates and collects darkness like precious jewels, just waiting to relish in it at my lowest. I'm not allowed to express something so intrinsic, or I'm labeled the monster, the villain. Rhysand can get so pissed that he takes down mountains, but I ruin my own home, and I'm forever cast out as the maniac and the aggressor." He scoffs, trying to breathe deeply, waves of his power rolling from him, its pale greenish gold aura floating and dissipating in the air, something Briar has never seen before.

"I wish it wasn't like that. I'm sorry you struggle with it. You should be allowed to feel what you feel. Nobody should be deprived of that. Unfortunately, you can't separate yourself from your magic, so it's going to take patience."

"Mhh", he mumbles, shuffling the papers around again.

"Come", she holds her hands out. "Take a break, a breather. For the night. You've been in here all day."

Tamlin's eyes flick to hers, a hesitancy behind the glassy green. "Please?", she adds, a charming smile crossing her face. His throat bobs but he nods curtly, placing his large hand in her smaller one.

Briar leads him out of the study and downstairs, onto the patio, looking out at the lush gardens that surround it, as the day turns to dusk.

A deep sigh escapes him as he breathes in the fresh air. She shifts a bit and bites her lower lip, looking over at him as the golden glow of the last rays of sun glints off of his hair.

Startling slightly, he realizes that their hands are still in one another's, and he quickly pulls his away. Briar folds hers behind her and watches the sunset with him silently, the bond wanting her to reach out and hold it again. But she doesn't want to make him uncomfortable.

The breeze sways the flowers and the grass and sweeps across her cheeks, pinkening them. When Tamlin looks over at her, he can't help but be stunned by her beauty. He remembers the first time he learned humans were being kept at the Hybern camp, and the first time he had seen their discarded bodies before seeing her chained to the cavern wall—the lone survivor and one of the most beautiful females he had ever seen. Noticing her pointy ears, he had quickly realized what had happened and his heart had sunk for her. Especially when there was no way of getting her out by himself—not with guards all around. He had felt as horrifically hopeless as he had Under the Mountain, as he had when Feyre had accused him of not coming for her or getting her out, knowing he couldn't have. It only made him want to save Briar more.

Once the sun goes down and the moon replaces it, he steps away, retreating back into the Manor. She follows and watches as one of the new housekeepers scurries back from whichever room they came from. As he goes back towards the study, she folds her arms and clears her throat. "I thought you were done for the night."

Taking in her aggressively adorable stance, he raises an eyebrow. "Right, well...I want to put the rose you made in a special case. Since it is created with your magic, it will never die unless you will it to. It would make a beautiful display. Like—like a beautiful sign of your lifeblood. That you're here and alive."

Her face softens and she uncrosses her arms. "It won't die? Ever?"

"Unless you will it to with your powers, no. It's connected to your magic, and therefore your life. Such as this Court is to mine, though the Courts magic transfers. Yours would simply return to the Cauldron."

They walk back up to the study and he shuffles through some cabinets, taking out a lovely glass dome.

"So...then my powers, they have been inside the Cauldron since the High Lord of Dusk died?"

"Yes, I'd believe so."

"And it didn't gift it to any other fae that were born naturally?"

"Some powers are only meant for those who can wield them."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that nobody was strong enough until you, Briar."

She blushes and he can't help the warm feeling that overcomes him as he watched the flush rush into her cheeks and travel down her neck. "Oh. I—that's a lot to take in."

"I hardly know how the entire world works, but some would say that it was fate."

"You don't believe in fate?"

"That's a loaded question."

"I'm sure your confidence about it has gone down because of your past, but...many faeries in Prythian have fated mates, right? Not everybody, but many. That must make it hard to not believe in it. We are mates, Tamlin. That doesn't mean you have to choose me or want me, it shouldn't be something that's forced."

"I don't believe in it for myself. Not after...not after the mates I've witnessed. How can I?"

"So this is because of your parents and—"

He shoots her a glare.

"Right...her. You loved her, and she was mated to someone else. But that just means that however hard it is to hear, you weren't truly meant for one another. Maybe things did happen the way they did because you were meant for someone else. Or someone else was meant for you...the Cauldron somehow believes that's me. In a continent infused with magic, I'm sure fate works in the most mysterious of ways."

"I don't have much hope left in me, and you shouldn't be tainted by me, believe me. They'll all talk—"

Her gaze becomes solemn, and she rests a hand on his forearm. "I know it probably means nothing coming from someone who has lived such a short life compared to yours but the worst days are behind you, and the better ones ahead. And as I've told you, I don't care what others say, as long as I know that I'm living a good life and that I'm a good person."

"You are very wise for a young woman."

Briar smirks, "Don't you mean young 'female'?"

Tamlin can't help but chuff out a short laugh. "Yes, I suppose I do."

"Well, that's a pleasant sound."

He blushes a bit and clears his throat, shaking his head and turning away, tenderly placing her Made rose within the glass dome, where it glows and glimmers softly with a slight pink aura. He places it on an empty shelf on full display.

She smiles. "It looks nice there."

"It does."

"Tamlin, I—" Briar wrings her hands nervously. "I know that you don't know me very well. And I don't know you very well, only from the stories I've heard and what we've spoken about. But those stories, they contrast to the man—male—that I see glimpses of...more than glimpses of. I know you either pretend to be broody and grumpy, or maybe things have made you that way, but I see who you are behind that mask."

Tamlin flinches a bit at the word mask but stays silent, his eyes fixed on the rose, his body rigid.

She swallows. "The moment that keeps coming back to me over and over is when I knew you weren't evil. Back at that...camp. it still stuns me that even with all those guards around, you'd make an effort to be around where I was. Sending me one look of encouragement and care; pity and sadness. You cared, even if you couldn't act."

His jaw ticks as he tries to keep the tears that he never shows at bay. "I was useless. I couldn't save you with them around. It seems I'm always useless when it matters."

"No. That's what I'm saying, Tamlin. You did save me. Even when you couldn't physically, you did mentally. You made me want to fight. Until the day that you and Jurian and Feyre did save me. Hell, you were solely responsible for getting us out of there. If you hadn't used your powers to send that large gust of wind...we would've been eaten. I don't know how you survived fighting all those demon beasts. I saw you um...shift for the first time there. I didn't get a good look but it was shocking how powerful you were. And I heard you do so the other night when you were frustrated and couldn't sleep at night. I was on the balcony because I couldn't sleep either. I just saw a blur flash past my window and into the woods and I knew it was you."

He finally looks at her, green eyes gleaming in the dull light of the study. "You really feel that I helped you just by showing up and looking at you?"

"Yes."

"Good...I'm glad." He rolls his shoulders and looks a bit embarrassed. "About my...moods and shifting and probably all the growling and such in the form..."

"Go on."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We all do what we have to do when stress gets the better of us. I'm sure you have many nightmares of times past. I have some of being back at his dungeon. I can't imagine how many horrific things you've seen, even before that. All the stories I've heard of the evil queen that was vanquished...when Kallias told me all about it, and then Lucien told me more...I admit I cried."

His hand reaches out to comfort her, but he quickly pulls it back again. "Yes, it was the worst fifty years of our lives. Aside from the wars, anyway. And then Feyre's insurrection, and then Hybern. My childhood was particularly horrific too", he rattles, running a hand through his hair anxiously.

Briar reaches out and grasps his hand in hers again and he freezes, going silent.

"That would harden the softest of hearts. I'm sure every single person who has a long lifespan, had made their fair share of bad mistakes here. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. You need to think of all the things you did right, or all the lives you saved. Like mine."

Tamlin looks at their hands and places his other one atop hers lightly. "I've gotten many killed too. For the curse."

"But you've saved many as well. Including Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel, and Elain."

He sighs and shrugs. "I suppose, in a way, I saved her sisters years ago too, from poverty and starving to death before they were fae."

"See? You're not bad. I know there's a long history of bad blood between your Court and the Night Court. I was told, but not in detail. But you are not inherently bad because you've made mistakes that you've even apologized and made up for."

"How do you know what I've done and haven't?"

"Lucien", she smiles. "He's a good friend but he's very open."

Tamlin groans. "Male couldn't keep a good secret for his life."

Briar chuckles softly, and a warmth spreads through him at the sound.

"You've done a lot of good things too. You have to learn to forgive yourself for the bad, even if they don't. It's how you'll truly move on."

A deep, tired sigh escapes him. "I don't know if I can. I'm too used to living with my self-loathing that it's become a part of the fabric of my being."

"Why?"

"Because every time I'm happy, something bad happens to rip it away from me. Every time I get a moment of reprieve from the darkness, something sweeps in and replaces it. It's a never-ending cycle of my life. Something I never asked for and never wanted."

Letting go of her hands, he moves towards the door, and she follows.

"Then what did you want? Do you want?"

He pauses at his bedroom door, afraid of revealing his heart again. "What everyone wants as living creatures, I suppose."

"You can say it, Tamlin."

"No, I can't. Saying it won't make it come true, and even if it does, it's only temporary."

"Real love is not temporary or conditional."

"Which is why it won't seek me out. Bond or no...", he whispers.

"I don't believe that. We'd just need time to—"

"Well, I do. I've lived it enough to believe it. Time won't make anything happen that isn't meant to."

"Look, so what if Feyre didn't work out, we—"

His tone dips to an irritated growl and he grips the doorknob so hard that it breaks off. "It is not just about Feyre. And there is no we." Glancing at the metal orb in his hand, he grumbles and places it on a shelf to have repaired.

"I have loved and lost too. Many people. But I refuse to believe that I'm wholly unlovable or that the universe means for me to only know heartache. I can't think that way, or I wouldn't survive. You're barely surviving because you're letting that drown you. I refuse to let it drown myself, and I won't let it drown you either."

"Why do you even care?", he snaps. "Because of the fucking bond that never cares about the people it binds anyway?"

She crosses her arms, unintimidated as she stares him down. "No. Because I was you, once. I've lived in the darkness, and it still surrounds me. I hate the dark with a burning passion. But I refuse to let it win when it threatens to swallow me whole. Because if I let it win...", she chokes up. "If I let it win, then not only have I lost everything including my mortal life, but I'd lose my immortal life too. Being a shell isn't living. I can't and won't go back to that. So when I was turned fae, was rescued by you, and was taken to Prythian, I vowed to myself that after I allowed myself to feel the grief of losing my humanity, I would stand up tall and begin fresh. Be better than I was. I became a Child of the Blessed because I was searching for something new to change my life and who I was, stuck in my loathing and self-pity. Of course, I didn't expect it to happen the way that it did, but it did, and I'm here. Alive. Changed. Made powerful. I was given a second chance and so were you. This rebuild is a second chance for you to start fresh and make your life what you want it to be, Tamlin. You just have to be brave enough to let the guilt go."

"All this power inside me, and it doesn't make me strong enough to be able to do that", he mutters, pushing his door open.

"Maybe because you never had someone encouraging you before. Not really. There is no curse now. If Lucien didn't have a mate, I think he would have lived here again, and he would have tried. But since he's the Prythian traveler at the moment, you're stuck with me. And as I said, I don't scare easily. Not from anyone, anything, or any challenge. So bring it on, High Lord. I can handle any bad days you have, and you don't get to underestimate me and say I can't."

He blinks at her and shakes his head, impressed but also touched. "Try to sleep, Briar."

She closes her eyes and focuses as his brown knits in confusion. As if it never happened, the doorknob replaces itself on his door, appearing from magical smoke of white and gold.

She opens her eyes and smiles at her handiwork, so pleased with herself that her irises glow golden. He goes to mention it, but they slowly fade back to their baby blue color as she assesses him with her eyes. "I'd say you should try to sleep too, but..."

Tamlin inclines his head in mutual understanding and enters his room. As he closes the door, he watches her descend back down the hall to the guest room and sighs.

This female is going to be a handful.