Holding Caedin on her hip, Briar grins, stroking the sleeping boy's fluffy hair as Lucien pinches the bridge of his nose. Jurian and Cresseida look thick as thieves, grinning and laughing at the predicament and whatever Tamlin's reaction will hold. Jurian glances up at the dimming sky and smiles slightly.

"Vassa will be home soon. I can't make it there and back before she gets there, and...I don't want her to be alone when she gets home. But please, let me know what Tamlin says", he snorts.

Lucien rolls his eyes. "You are so whipped."

"Ohh, says Mr. Mated."

He smirks. "Go get your firebird, bastard."

Jurian bows dramatically. "Briar, Cresseida, it was good working with you. I assume I will see you around or at the very least, in the midst of the upcoming war."

Cresseida raises a brow. "You plan on helping in the war?"

"At this point, war is in my veins, mortal or not. Plus, I would be a fool to not help my faerie friends after they have just helped my people, no? Leveling the score", he grins, walking backward.

"Have a pleasant night, Jurian", Lucien quips.

"Good evening all", he replies, walking back towards the Manor where he and Vassa have been residing.

Lucien keeps an eye on the females, Briar doting on the little boy in her arms as he sleeps comfortably. He can't help the sigh from escaping him, not in the mood for any of Tamlin's mood swings. Rolling his neck, his mind drifts to Elain and how much he wants to get home to her tonight before all of the chaos tomorrow brings.

He places his free hand on Briar's arm, and Cresseida links up with the Summer Court sentries who can't winnow. In a flash, they are back in the Spring Court and wander towards the center of the village where Tarquin and Tamlin will be awaiting their return.

The moment, Tamlin feels her close, he spins around and uses his faerie speed to reach them. "Is she alright!?"

Lucien intercepts him with a firm hand to his chest. "Tam...there's something you need to know first...um..."

"Move", Tamlin growls, both of them leveling glares at one another before Lucien sighs and steps out of the way, revealing Briar holding little Caedin. She looks up at Tamlin shyly and bites her lip.

"Shh", she whispers. "I found him. But he's sleeping. Don't scare him."

Tamlin stares at his mate, then back and forth between her and the child, his expression one of utter shock and confusion, maybe a bit of adoration as well. "I—I..."

Cresseida suppresses a smirk and leads her sentries over to Tarquin to discuss the success.

"I know this wasn't expected and I know that you must not be used to having children around the Manor, and I know that he can't stay I just—look t his ears. They're getting pointed, and I couldn't keep him there because I promised Lilly, and...he recognized me. I don't know how but he did. He remembered me. He needs to be here. He needs to grow up here, where his father was from."

Tamlin nods wordlessly and looks at Lucien. Lucien swallows. "There is more to it. I will tell you when the guests have gone home", he murmurs.

"Right", Tamlin says quietly. "Can you please winnow them to the Manor?"

"Of course", Lucien nods. "I will stay until you wrap up here and we can discuss something."

"Works for me."

Briar looks into his eyes for a moment before turning and letting Lucien winnow her away.

Tamlin lets out a breath and rubs his face, turning towards the Summer Court guests to wrap up the meeting.

.

.

.

Lucien and Briar land in the Manor and he is quiet as he leads her upstairs. "Uhh, should he sleep in your room, or a different one?"

"Mine. I don't want him to be terrified if he wakes up, you know?" I'll stay with him for a little while."

"Alright. Look, I-I didn't tell you back there but his father—", he trails off, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"I remember who Andras is", she whispers. "I am sorry. And I am sorry for this sweet baby who will never know him. But in a way...he was not completely lost. He has a legacy now. One that will live on in his son, here, where he belongs. Right? I-I have to see the positive because we cannot change the negative."

Lucien takes a shaking breath and smiles slightly. "Yes, he will have a legacy. This boy will grow up beloved by many, as his father once was. He will do his family proud, no matter what."

Briar tucks the small boy into her bed after taking off his shoes, then hugs Lucien tightly. He stiffens at first with the unexpected gesture, then hugs her back. "You have done a lot of good for this Court, and for your people...and even for Tamlin. In just two weeks. I'm sure this goes without saying but, I know he wants you to choose this Court as your home. Losing you...his mate...I don't think that would be good at all. But I do recognize and respect that you have your own life and choices to make too. Whatever those may be, I simply ask that you do not forget him. He...he needs people more than he would ever admit."

Briar pulls away from the hug and nods softly. "I know. I won't forget, no matter what my future holds."

"Thank you."

"Thank you, too. You work very hard, Lucien. Between here and the Night Court and the Mortal Lands. I see that. But you need to remember that you deserve some rest sometimes too. Can't have you getting burnt out."

"I am fine", he chuckles softly. "I swear it. You sound like Elain", he smirks.

"Well, she is right. You can only do so much at once. You're one person. And anyone who cares will realize that."

"I'm doing my best to curb my more workaholic tendencies but very old habits don't die so fast."

"Will you be bringing Elain to the celebration tomorrow?"

Lucien rubs the back of his neck and sighs. "That's something else to discuss with Tamlin. He does not trust her, but I'm hoping he trusts me enough again to allow it. They are not exactly each other's favorite person, but I'm hoping they can at least be civil."

"I'm sorry you're in the middle. It seems like you perpetually live in the middle of everyone's drama", she chuckles quietly.

He shakes his head and shrugs. "I'm used to it I suppose. I'm the mediator. I pride myself on my control, so I suppose it rubs off on others sometimes. I know how to put people at ease. It's just another odd facet of my power that I've no idea where it sprouted from. Some days I feel like this odd mixture that makes no sense."

"Well, appreciate all those oddities, they seem to have helped you so far."

He smiles softly and nods. "I try."

"Would you mind telling the cooks to prepare dinner? Maybe some venison and vegetables? I don't think I could stomach fish after handling it all day", she grins.

Lucien snorts. "Absolutely. I'm sure Tamlin will come up to get you once he arrives home."

Briar nods and smiles. "Thanks again, Lucien. You're a good friend."

"There is no need to thank me. That's what friends are for, hm?" He inclines his head politely and leaves the room, heading downstairs.

Briar takes a breath and rubs the small boy's back. "What am I going to do with you, little guy? Hm?"

.

.

.

Tamlin winnows into the Manor and runs a hand through his hair, the scent of spiced meats hitting his nose and making his stomach rumble. Lucien appears from the kitchen and walks over to him.

"She's upstairs with the boy."

"I assumed."

"We need to talk."

"Can it wait until after dinner? I'm starved. I'm sure you are too."

Lucien grips his shoulder. "He's Andras's."

"What?", Tamlin stiffens.

"The child. He...Andras was secretly in love with Briar's friend over the wall. They conceived that babe together."

"Did he know of him?", Tamlin asks quietly.

Lucien sucks in a breath and releases it slowly. "He knew of the pregnancy. But he did not get to meet him, no", he answers weakly.

"Why would he risk that? Wh-why would he make me—I—"

"Tam, you can't go pinning this on yourself again. Andras made his own choices; he was a grown man by then. He wanted to be his own person and make his own choices. He trained to be a sentry to follow in his father's footsteps. I would imagine that knowing him, he wanted to make sure these lands were safe for his son to grow up in. Something he never had growing up. He grew up under Amarantha's cloud of evil. He wouldn't have wanted that for his child. That I can understand, but the fact that it had to be him...that will never not sting, Tam. For either of us. After he lost his father, and then we lost Bryn—I'm sure he thought enough was enough. I doubt he truly thought he was the key. But he was, and we cannot change that no matter how saddened it makes us. There is no bringing them back as much as we desperately would like to."

Tamlin's claws punch out and he clenches his jaw. "No, we can't but we can bring back everyone else, right? Feyre, Jurian, Rhysand, Miryam...", he trails off, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he sniffs. "Everyone but the best people I've ever known. Why didn't they deserve it? Why didn't they get the chance? Who says we still can't? We buried them...wh-what was left of them. We have bones."

"Tam", Lucien says softly, attempting to curb his rising mania. "The time has come and gone."

"Says who?", he asks, looking at his friend desperately. "If Koschei and those despicable Queens have a plan for this war, the Queens will be using their powers. Powers that they got directly from the Cauldron. Who's to say that they cannot imbue new life on others the way Hybern did with Jurian?"

Lucien crosses his arms. "Tamlin we are not doing something as dangerous as last time. We are not making a bargain with them for anything in exchange, we cannot risk this Court. You of all people should know that!"

Tamlin growls. "You know I would never risk this Court."

"We have yet to discuss other things, but the Queens are gearing up for something big. They—they have been slowly taking control of Illyrians in the Northernmost part of the Night Court. Without their siphons, they are pure brutal killing machines, especially if controlled by those hags with Cauldron power. They could desiccate you from the inside out in ways we don't yet know how it is spreading."

"You knew all of this and didn't say anything sooner?"

"It is a Night Court issue right now, so I did not feel it necessary to let the other Courts know quite yet. Plus, I am only an emissary, so I am technically not at liberty to say these things. But you are my friend and I work for you too. And you have to listen to me for once—I need you to know that as powerful as you and the others are as High Lords, you are not singularly stronger than the Cauldron. We all learned that lesson the hard way. That is why you cannot even entertain the idea of thinking those bitches are in a place to be reasoned or bargained with. They are not. These are not the mortal Queens as you knew them before they went into the Cauldron. They are now vessels of rotting power because they are beings who were not supposed to be touched by the Cauldron. Hybern used it to do evil bidding, therefore evil is what it spat out as retribution."

Tamlin looks over him, Lucien's concerned features and the seriousness in his gaze forcing him to sigh and cross his own arms. "Is it so bad to believe that there could be a way to bring him back? For his son. And what of Bryn? She didn't deserve that either, she deserved her own life. A future with that—that other sentry, what's-his-face."

Lucien scoffs. "Griffin."

"Ugh, yes."

"He wasn't that bad just..."

"Arrogant."

"He trained with her, he's a good sentry. Even still. I do think she was changing him for the better. Sometimes y'know, not to be corny, but love can do that to some people", he says, raising an eyebrow.

"I still say he didn't deserve her."

"Yes, well, do you think she would have listened to what we thought, Tam? How many males did she toss to the curb once she realized?", he laughs softly. "She was smart, albeit adventurous."

Tamlin smirks. "I quite enjoyed that she was too much for most of those weak males to handle. I suppose in a way, Griffin had a leg up on them in that sense."

"Poor male hasn't been with anyone since as far as I know. The sentries and courtiers talk through the vine. He has been much more respectful and tolerable since she died though."

"I miss it", Tamlin admits quietly, a solemn expression coming over him. "As horrible as the curse and all that came with it was...they were alive. We were...a good group."

"A family", Lucien voices for him. "Yes. We were. And while we will always remember them, families can be rebuilt, different...but just as strong." He glances up towards the stairs and Tamlin turns around, seeing Briar descending them.

He watches her until she stands in front of him then clears his throat. "Dinner is almost ready."

"Yes, I can smell it", she smiles softly. "It smells lovely."

"How's uhh...the boy?"

"He's good. One of the housemaids offered to keep watch over him so he wouldn't be afraid if he wakes up while we eat."

"Good. That's good..."

Lucien bows out and heads to the dining room, leaving them to talk.

"I'm unharmed", she smiles. "Is it rude to tell a High Lord 'I told you so'?"

Tamlin cracks a smile and shakes his head. "I think I'll give you a pass this time."

"How gracious of you", she quips, dropping into a curtsy.

He holds his arm out for her and she takes it, grinning, as he escorts her to the dining area. Pulling out her chair, he motions for her to sit. She does and he pushes her in before taking his own seat at the head.

.

.

.

Later that night, Tamlin heads upstairs to go to sleep. Lucien had finally gotten the chance to winnow home to Elain for the night, but had successfully argued his case to bring her to the festival the next day on the condition that he stays with her at all times so no destructive hijinks occur.

Tamlin's weight makes the top stair creak, and he cringes, hoping it doesn't wake Briar, whose room is closest to the staircase. However, he quickly realizes that her light is on, and he can't help but peek his head in to the cracked open door.

Briar sits on the bed in a pearl-colored nightgown, Andras's little boy on her lap, singing softly to him as she sways gently. He is instantly captivated by her beautiful voice. She had never told him that she could sing so wonderfully.

Standing by the open door, he watches throughout the entire song, the small child playing with the ends of her slightly waved black hair as his eyes droop. Eyes that are as green as Andras's—and his. Something lurches in his gut at that, taking in the blonde curls and the freckles that remind him of Andras as a small boy.

But the blonde hair and those pale green eyes—for a split second he lets his mind wander to a different vision. Of Briar sitting there in that nightgown holding their own child on her knee—before furiously shaking it out of his mind. Absolutely preposterous.

As much as he would love children one day, he does not believe he has the ability to be a father; not with the parenting he received himself, having no role model to be so. All he would have to go on is not being the way his parents were. Andras's voice rings through his head, telling him how he would make a good father one day.

Sighing, he brushes it off and suddenly realizes he was a bit too loud, as he looks up and sees Briar smiling shyly at him. She tucks the boy into her bed and stands up, lightly placing a hand on his chest to urge him out of the room, before closing the door behind her.

"Your voice", he blurts out.

She blinks, her cheeks reddening. "What about it?"

"It-it's...musical", he stutters before mentally slapping himself.

An amused grin comes to her face. "Singing usually is."

"That's not what I meant—I meant...", he takes a breath and runs a hand through his hair. "It was lovely. Beautiful. The best voice I've ever heard."

"That's quite the compliment. I haven't sung in a while. Usually only in private."

"I think the Court would adore hearing it in public at the festival tomorrow. If you have a song or two in you."

Briar shakes her head. "Oh gods, I haven't sung in front of a crowd since school." Her eyes light up slightly and she raises her chin to him. "But, I have a bargain for you."

"Don't you know that faerie bargains cannot be broken unless kept?"

"You've said."

"They are often sealed with a kiss here in the Spring Court", he says, a bit stunned by his own boldness.

"Are they? Interesting. I'm still interested if you also accept the terms."

"Which terms would that be?"

"I will sing one song in front of whatever crowds we have tomorrow. However, for that one song, you also have to play your fiddle. We can both overcome our fears of getting back into something we are supposed to enjoy."

He crosses his broad arms and leans against the wall, his jaw ticking slightly in thought.

"Think about it. We have a while to decide." She sends him a smile and makes her way down the hall toward the library. He follows as if pulled along by her.

Is getting a chance to feel her lips on mine worth this bargain?

"Fine."

She spins around. "What?"

"Fine. Yes. I-I accept the terms of your feisty faerie bargain, Briar Laverne", he states, a small smile coming to his lips.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes."

She stares into his eyes in challenge, before a big grin spreads across her face.

A whoosh of air leaves Tamlin as he takes in how utterly gorgeous she is, especially when happy. That bond within him hums and tugs, and he knows right then that he would do anything to keep that smile on her face.

"Care to seal that bargain?", he smirks as they walk into the library.

Her face flushes but she projects as much confidence as possible, glancing over at the row of books they had first stood in when she had been practicing her magic nearly two weeks ago.

Briar casually leans against the giant floor-to-ceiling bookshelf closest to the door and smirks up at him expectantly. "It must be sealed with a kiss, hm?"

"It must", he murmurs, leaning over her, and placing his strong forearms on the shelves next to her head.

Briar's eyes twinkle and her body begins to glow with a soft golden aura. Suddenly vines of ivy crawl up Tamlin's arms, twisting around his bulky biceps as red rosebuds bloom throughout them. Her magic seems to pull his from within him, as his own glow shines throughout his body, the beginnings of his beast's antlers climbing up from his head. She watches in awe and swallows, shockingly at ease with those sharp things and the pure intensity coming from his now bright-green gaze.

A serene look comes over his face as he leans closer. Briar lifts her chin as high as possible, staring into his eyes, green as the fresh spring grass outside of the Manor. She feels a harsher tug in the center of her ribs and she gasps, her eyes slipping closed as it causes tingles to erupt throughout her body. Tamlin's lips come down on hers as they seal their bargain. Reacting purely on instinct, Briar raises her arms and wraps them around his neck, moving up on her tiptoes to press their mouths together more firmly. Groaning with desire, he presses into her more insistently. Briar opens for him as he strokes her tongue with his, causing a small moan to slip from her.

Sliding her hands along his strong shoulders, Briar cups his face for a moment, dragging her thumbs over those sharp cheekbones. Reaching up further, she grips the base of his antlers carefully, pulling him closer to her body, trapping herself between him and the bookshelf. An image of a dagger entangled in a rose with sharp thorns appears on his bicep and on Briar's wrist, etched into their skin by the magic of their bargain.

Tamlin groans as he feels the peaks and plush of her breasts pressed into his chest through the thin fabric of her silken nightgown. Their desperation becomes potent, and Tamlin begins to scent her arousal, and his primal side—his mate side— comes out to play; that need to have her, to taste her, tries to take over him. That lust rages through his veins so much so that it muddles his mind. All he can think of is Briar. All he needs is Briar. His faerie heart beats wildly in his chest the way it hadn't been able to previously, and his cock throbs to feel her touch. The need ignites the mate bond within him, which yanks at his rib and douses him with reality like ice water.

The mate bond. This isn't real. This is fate; a fate with him that this amazing female should never be trapped in. Fuck fate. She doesn't deserve a monster like him. He will not shackle her the way his father had his mother. Nor will he end up hurting her and twisting the situation to his wants as Rhysand had done to Feyre. No. No, no no...

Tamlin growls lowly against her lips in frustration and pulls away, his muscled upper body ripping the vines from himself as they wisp into the air as if they never existed, Briar's magic and his fading with the sudden change in his demeanor. He breathes heavily and runs his hands through his hair and over his face as his antlers retract.

Glancing at her quickly, he sees her frozen there, blinking slowly, her lips parted. She stares at him as if she has startled a wounded puppy, daring not to move a muscle or she would scare him away.

"T-Tamlin I—I'm sorry, did I hurt you?", she breathes out, her expression softening.

He scoffs as the beast within him rages on. Hurt me? Hurt Me? I hurt you! Just being chained to me will hurt you!

"No. It's me. Always me. The bargain is made. I will keep to it, but that is all you will be getting from me", he grumbles, storming out of the library.

Briar sucks in a breath and stares after him, her chest aching with disappointment and guilt. Tears pricking her eyes, she returns to her room, stroking the rose and dagger tattoo from their bargain. She curls up on the edge of the bed so as to not disturb the sleeping child and forces her eyes closed, willing her heart and body to return to a state of calm.

.

.

.

Tamlin tosses and turns, thrashing wildly beneath his sheets, claws drawn, reducing them to tatters as he fights invisible demons. In his mind, however, he is looking down at his hands and body, stained crimson red with blood.

{ A steady flow of blood streams down his mother's pale throat and the large stab wound through her heart. It drips from her lifeless body as he carries her from the old Manor, caking in her platinum blonde hair. He does not give a single thought to the rest of his horrid family.

She isn't heavy, yet he trembles. From the adrenaline, the ferocity and quickness of the invasion, and from coming face to face with the High Lord of the Night Court, hell-bent on finishing off the job with him. He was lucky to escape with his life against that male. Though lucky isn't a word he will ever equate to himself, ever. That was not luck, that was war-band training fresh in his mind. And why? For what? What was he even fighting for, when now he would go back in time a measly hour and allow it? Hell, he would even beg to be killed too. But his godsdamned instincts wouldn't allow him. His training was so drilled into his brain that the male of Night was dead on the floor before he could even blink and realize what he had done in self-defense.

Then he and Rhys had looked up at one another and been transferred their father's powers. With that, all of their rage had come to a head in a huge fight, and the result was a broken friendship that will be severed for eternity.

Now he is High Lord. But he refuses to think of that right now. All that matters now is her. His mother.

His mother, the female who always did what she thought was best, laid low and suppressed her light because of his father.

His mother, the female who would sing him to sleep as a babe and who would secretly give him tricks to hide his true powers from his brothers as best as possible so they wouldn't hurt him.

His mother. The female that tried and tried and tried. Never the best mother, but a warrior in her own right, fighting the battle between her autonomy and her mate bond, her freedom and her allegiance to her awful husband, and her safety and her right to speak. In the end, she always chose her safety, silence, and allegiance. Always.

But Tamlin had grown up in this home with this horrid family, had seen his father's dealings, had seen his abuse of her, and had been forced to do things for his father that he would have never done if not out of extreme threat or duress. He understands his mother more now.

Before he knows it, he is at the far end of her rose garden, he pride and joy. She may have not had many liberties with his father, but she had her garden and her roses. One sense of beauty that she could keep and tend to in the world. Not even her children were gifts, but curses.

After what he had done to cause this, he was a curse too. A nightmare.

Tears flow down his face and his ears finally open to his surrounding, his loud sobs of pain escaping him unendingly as he sinks to his knees, cradling her in his arms. Placing a gentle kiss on the top of her forehead, he lies her on the ground and digs, and digs, and digs. The sobs never cease and his tears drip onto the soil with each lift of the shovel. His hands shake as he tries not to look at the two other graves he had dug just weeks ago. His precious Nova and her mother.

Defeated and sweating, he cries hard and pulls his knees to his chest, screams of grief ripping from his chest. First his love, then his mother. Then his friend.

His fault. His fault. His fault.

Nothing will bring you back from this. You're a monster.

Slumped in the dirt, he can do nothing but sob until his tears run out and his lungs burn from screaming. Crawling back to his mother, he strokes her hair, and his lip trembles.

"I'm sorry", he chokes out brokenly. "I'm so sorry...I—I love you, Mom", he whispers, voice cracking like his heart. "I forgive you. I h-hope you'll forgive me too. I never—never meant for this to happen. I don't know what went wrong. Father he—I'm glad he's dead. But you should be here. You should have known a life after him, out from under him. I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment."

Numbness begins to fill his veins as he buries her, dissociation clouding his actions. It doesn't quite clear until it is done and he finds himself staring down at the fresh dirt and the third grave he has dug within the month. Falling to his knees, he forces himself to look at them, forces himself to feel the raging hatred in his veins for himself.

That hatred builds into anger and within moments he is dragging his father and brothers' bodies out to the border of the gardens, sneering at them. They lay lifeless and bloodied and not an ounce of sympathy can be found for them in Tamlin's aching heart. He retrieves a torch from the Manor and breathes heavily, a strange mix of hurt, wrath, and sick gratification coming over him as he sets them on fire, watching as the blaze climbs high. It devours their flesh as he stands frozen against that heat, unable to peel his eyes from the sight until they wither and all that is left is ash and smoke.

Tamlin kicks dirt on top of the ashes and spits on them, fury building in his chest again at everything that could have been prevented if his father had not been one of the worst beings he had ever been unfortunate enough to be tied to.

Two centuries of his cutting words, all the physical pain, the mental degradation, and the severe lack of emotional allowance. A true power-hungry tyrant who would trade his young son's childish innocence to sadists for personal gain. A beacon of pure evil whose only thrill came from the prowess of power. Not an inkling of kindness or love, only entitlement and authoritarian abuse.

As his breaths get faster, the rage seems to crescendo to unbearable heights within his chest, until it feels as if it will explode. Suddenly, he begins to glow brightly with formidable High Lord power and he pants hard, yelling out as sharp claws tear from his knuckles, breaking and re-fusing the bones in his hands as blood pours down his fingers from the punctures in his flesh.

His entire body begins to tremble as the crunching of his skull rings in his ears and crushing agony beats through his head. Bloodcurdling screams tear from him, his sore throat like sandpaper as his legs give out from under him. He crumples to the ground curling up, those sharp claws digging into the soft earth. Two sets of antlers as sharp as spears or ashwood arrows break through his head, shifting the plates of bone in his skull to accommodate his new form.

Tears rush down his cheeks from the pain as the powers pulse inside of him, reverberating through him. All at once, the torment stops and all is silent. All he can feel within him still is pure anguish—white-hot fury. That's when he notices that his hands are no longer hands, but great, large paws, complete with those razor-sharp claws. For a split-second, panic takes over but it is quickly washed away by that rage in a wave. Letting out an earth-shuddering roar, he races into the woods as if possessed by an entity whose sole purpose is to destroy threats and take revenge for all the things he has been put through, as well as for everything his mother, and Rhys, and Nova had been put through. And for the mortals, and the people of his Court used and abused by his father.

RAGE. WRATH. FURY. ANGER. IRE.

He sees red but can't stop himself, cannot stop this beast that has been released from him as its keener senses spot a deer and lunge. His mighty jaw widens and those animalistic teeth latch onto its neck at first, before tearing it limb from limb in a matter of moments, blood spraying everywhere, spattering his golden-hued fur.

Tearing through the forest at an immortal faerie speed, he rips into any animal he comes across, each kill satiating that dark part of him that craves to pass off some of his suffering to another living thing. The part of him that begs with desperation to no longer be the victim, but the one with the power.

Wishing that type of suffering on others to gratify himself...

Just like father. These powers are tainted with evil. You are evil now, too. }

The wholly lonely male that came out of the forest that day was not that broken boy anymore, but an equally broken adult male, hell-bent on never letting anyone get to him again. Determined to protect himself and his Court at all costs. That was the only mission. He will never let anyone get close enough to hurt him again. Never.

"Tamlin!"

Something inside of him awakens at her voice and his eyes snap open as his body jolts up and he moves to the corner of the room between the wall and his bed. His mind instantly thinks that everyone has been slaughtered again. "No!", he yells out.

"Tamlin", Briar breathes out, using the faelights to illuminate the room. She holds her hands out for him, watching his trembling form cowering in the corner like a terrified child. "It's alright, it was just a nightmare." Her baby blue eyes reach his still-glowing greenish-yellow ones and she beckons him over. "You're alright", she says softly. "Come here."

Tamlin breathes hard and pushes his hair from his sweat-slicked face. "B-Briar?" Clarity comes back to him and he climbs back onto his bed, covering his face in humiliation.

Briar bites her lip and climbs up and moves over to him, placing her hands around his wrists, carefully pulling his hands from his face.

As if some sort of dam has broken, the High Lord of Spring breaks down, sobs wracking his large form as tears spill from those eyes that she loves so much.

"I'm evil", he bawls, his voice breaking.

Her heart lurches and she shakes her head, pulling his arms fully down and away from where they rested on his knees, before kneeling between them and taking his face in her hands. "You are not evil. You are good, Tamlin. I am here today because of that good." She sniffs and tips his chin up to look at her.

"Whatever happened in the past, there were other horrible people and ploys at play. You are not evil. I won't allow you to think that. No matter what I have to do, I won't.

He weeps and looks away from her embarrassedly.

"Look at me", she demands.

He can't help but to listen from the tone in her voice, taking in her beautiful face. "Briar—"

"No. We're not going to do that. We are not going to go down that spiral." She inches closer and hugs him tightly.

He freezes up for a moment before hugging her back, needing it more than he needed air, clinging to her like a lifeline and sobbing into her shoulder.

"You are generous. You are kind. You are tender. You are honorable. You are strong. You are a protector and a survivor and a loving leader. That is who you are. And that does not mean that you are without flaws. Nobody in this world or the next is without flaws. But slipping up and doing bad things sometimes is normal. People lash out sometimes. It's not okay, but...it happens. And what matters is how you handle it, how you apologize and make it up to that person. You have more than made up for anything you've done in the past. Lucien told me about everything, even the war and everything you did for Prythian—what you did for the Night Court. You didn't just save them once when you saved me, but you saved them again. You...resurrected Rhysand. That is who you are. You don't even like them, and yet you saved them.

"It was a debt that needed repaying", he whispers softly. "For a long-ago betrayal. No matter how much duress I was in, I eased it along."

"Nova?", she asks quietly.

"Yes", he murmurs, his nose brushing the side of her neck as he breathes in her sweet scent of honeysuckle and rose. It seems to swirl within, sending a wave of calm over him.

"Tamlin, you did everything you could to fight. You were one person against a High Lord and two powerful older brothers. It was not your fault at all. You need to stop thinking that way. The past cannot be changed or reversed. You have to try to look forward and not back. You may have given information to your father, but you were tortured for that. You did not give it freely, nor did you ever wish harm on her. She knew you loved her. Maybe Rhys doesn't know, and maybe he still won't understand when he does, but she does. If she loved you as much as it seemed when you told me about her...then she knows."

He looks at her weakly and she gently places her forehead against his, gazing into his eyes, her thumbs stroking lazy circles beneath his temples. He could swear her irises muddled into that vibrant twilight color of Nova's for a moment until he blinks again and they are her own pretty blue again.

"Briar", he murmurs.

"Yes, Tamlin?"

"Nobody wants this—a life with me is too difficult. It is too fucking rocky for anyone to endure." His voice breaks slightly. "Mate bonds cannot be trusted. Please don't lean into that bond. It will only get you hurt by me. As much as I don't want to hurt people, I do. Often. I won't have my tainted soul luring yours to stay."

"Nothing has to be set in stone. But one thing will be. Even if nothing else transpires between us, I will always be a friend and a confidante that you can trust. I swear that to you. If you need me, I will be here. I've seen you, Tamlin."

He shakes his head defeatedly. "No, you have not seen the ugliest versions of me."

"It won't scare me."

"You don't know that."

"I do know that. I came nose to nose with your beast form, and as startled as I was at first, I did not balk away once I knew it was you. This mate bond within me, however unreliable at true equality you say it is, still let me know that I was in no danger from you. I could feel that sense of ease and I didn't even know you that well two weeks ago. So bring me your grief, your pain, your nightmares, your flesh bloodied from battle, and even your rage. I will not balk, because I have complete trust in you. And...maybe that's just what you need and have always needed. Someone to completely open up to, who will do the same back. Someone to trust with your soul that could trust you the same way back. Someone who can see the worst of you and allow you to see the worst of them. Like—Like Nova did, right? Plus, I cannot judge you unfairly when I do not know the ferocity of my own powers yet. I'm sure I will slip or explode or something along those lines too at some point."

Tamlin sniffs as a stray tear trails down his face. "I can't trust anymore. It's exhausting being broken by everyone", he chokes out.

Briar places a hand over his heart, warmth seeping into her palm from his bare skin. "You can trust me. This time, it's not empty words. I know you can feel it too."

He takes a shuddered breath as the bond pulls taut between them, thrumming with soulful vibration. "Yes", he mumbles. "But I-I am fractured."

"So am I", Briar whispers back. "So why don't we take the fractured pieces of ourselves, put them together, and make a colorful mosaic worthy of the Spring Court? How does that sound?"

Tamlin gazes at her freely, his eyes slightly widened, vulnerability and adoration within them. He is completely taken with his mate's perfection. Wordlessly, he slips his arms around her waist again and pulls her close into a near-crushing hug, craving a whole five centuries' worth of warmth and connection.