The horrors of the mountain did not lessen for Thesan or the other fae of Prythian over the years. Two years of torture with his lover by his side, seemed like a lifetime ago for Thesan as his forty-eighth year trapped beneath the ancient stone came to pass. For him, forty-eight years of his hundreds felt endless. The forty- eight years had brought him more pain than the four hundred thirteen that he lived outside of the false court that he found himself trapped in. Standing before the black pillars, with ruby encrusted designs leading to an equally gaudy throne, Thesan could not help detest the situation that he found himself ensnared in. Surrounded by hundreds of fae, all with dark circles under their eyes and bruises to match, he felt a lifetime worth of pain before the red headed witch on her throne.
While the forty-eight years felt like a lifetime to him, the forty-six that his daughters had spent within the stone fortress was their lifetime.
Thesan glanced over at the twin girls that stood beside him. Both clothed in the rich golden colors of the Dawn court, with their tanned skin and sun kissed hair, the heirs of Dawn were a sight to behold. Their looks, identical in every way, except for the small scar that cut through the oldest's golden brow. Their most notable feature, however, were not that of Dawn but of their mother. Eyes that were a shade of blue, almost gray, contrasted in a stark manner against their Dawn complexion. However, even the eyes that were closer to Winter than Dawn were not their most notable feature. The wings, the same downy-white wings that had once been soaked by their mother's blood, now stood strong and proud behind the elegant figures. Wings, Thesan hated to admit, that might never be used. For as long as they were trapped under the mountain, his daughter's version of the sky was a black stone that mirrored the floor.
Thesan must admit, that even through all the pain and suffering that the mountain had brought, his two daughters were his greatest joy. He never assumed that he would have children. His lovers had all been the same, before the mountain. He knew that his lover, from before the atrocities of the mountain, still waited for him. The Peregryn male that would oversee his legion until he too could return to the land above the mountain. However, what lies above still cannot change the things that have occurred below. Amarantha, forcing marriages and lovers onto the single high lords in the name of "ensuring heirs". She had succeeded. Her manipulations brought about the two heirs beside him, and many others in the room if he had to imagine. There were few left in the courts that had not been swayed or sliced by her hand.
Winter, with their warriors treated as breeding mares, Summer with her coercion visible in the scars on his hands, Day with their healing completely diminished, and Dawn with two heirs and a cold body beneath the mountain, had taken the worst of the punishments. Once the courts willing to defy the red witch's reign, now the courts that openly suffered the most.
It was why the two girls by his side stood completely still, faces void of any emotion, as Amarantha trapesed before them with a blade still dripping blood onto the stone floors.
"My ever-loyal subjects," Amarantha cooed as she brought the blade to her lips, taking a lick from the dagger with a smirk on her face. She leisurely walked up the dais, placing herself upon the throne of nightmares. With a broad smile that one could only say resembles a beast that had caught its prey, she began to speak. "I wanted to remind you all that our time together has meant so much to me. Tomorrow, marks the forty-ninth year of our time under the mountain. As your Queen…"
"You will NEVER be our Queen!"
The strong voice of Nostrus carried across the hall. Eyes from fae darted to and away from the Summer Lord in quick succession. Thesan, ever accustomed to the ways of Amarantha's court did not take his eyes off of his queen, and prayed that his daughters would not look at the young lord as well.
Amarantha rolled her eyes as she picked at her nails with the dagger that still dripped with scarlet. "Unless Tamlin finds his pathetic human," Amarantha began in a patronizing tone, seemingly unbothered, before a scowl took over her face and she locked eyes onto the Summer Lord. "I am the Queen of this court, and the Queen of Prythian!" Her outrage was articulated by the blade soaring across the room. The silver and red passed by the court, most never turning their head to see where it lands. Even if one was not watching the blade, trying to keep their resolve before the witch, the sickening sound of metal cutting through flesh let the crowd know that it had found its target. Whether it was intentional, or simply a throw into the crowd, the young servant girl from Summer's body hit the floor with a thud that caused even the strongest willed fae to wince. Thesan glanced at his daughters, praying that their resolve was strong and they would not show emotion. They had been raised in these halls, seen the torture of these courts, and learned how to conceal even the darkest of their thoughts. Elation, grief, disgust, and anger, all hidden behind angelic masks as a necessary way to survive.
"I am so tired of your disrespect, Nostrus! I allow you to be apart of my court, and yet you and your little band of misfits," at the words her eyes flitted to the high lords of Day, Winter, and briefly to Thesan's own, "decide to disrespect me again and again!" She sat straight on the throne, all pretense of kindness and grace gone. Her arms clenched on the rests of the throne, head tilted up in arrogance, as she looked down her nose at the young High Lord of Summer. "Maybe some time with the others will remind you of your place here." Relaxing back down into her chair, she gave a lazy flick of her wrist.
As if summoned from the shadows, the sound of claws landing onto the stone reverberated in the hall. The gray skin stretched over the towering form like cracked leather, as clawed hands reached for the Summer Lord. From Thesan's spot in the great hall, he could not see the silver fangs that were protruding from the creature's mouth, but knew they were there all the same. To his left, he could almost sense his oldest daughter's flinch. The slightest movement, not even enough to be called movement, as if her hand instinctively wanted to reach towards her face. The scar on her brow seeming to pucker at the mere presence of the creature of the night.
"To the dungeons, my queen?" The Attor called, his voice low and disembodied as if it were shifting sand. The sound causing the young Dawn heirs wings to tense, each individual white feather seeming to sharpen as if ready to take flight to a sky she could not see.
Amarantha hummed lightly in acknowledgment, while waving away the demon. Unbothered, but the wicked gleam in her dark eyes revealed how much enjoyment she was getting from her minor theatrics. Eyes growing darker in pleasure, as not a single fae moved to argue or protect the Summer Lord as the Attor stole him away.
"Aurora, come. I know how the Attor makes you feel and I wish to check on my favorite princess," Amarantha stated as her body turned towards the still tense figure of the Dawn heir.
Thesan willed his body not to react. Forced his hands to stay by his side, as his daughter's stormy eyes quickly flickered to him before returning to the would-be Queen. From his other side, he could sense the same sharpening of wings replacing the other's once relaxed form. He was not the only one to notice, either.
"Now, now, Mira. No need to get tense." Amarantha's leisurely spoken words did not match the entertained expression that shone through her eyes. "I just want to check on our sweet girl." Her eyes flickered back to the still tense princess. Aurora's wings sharp, as if ready for war, but her hands betraying her stature with the slightest tremor. "Come." Amarantha beckoned her forward.
In the quiet court, each step from her silk slippers sounded like a whip coming down on her back. It was a sound that the Dawn princess had become familiar with, during her forty- six years under the mountain. With her head high, she walked before the Queen of the Mountain. Making sure to bow low, and keep her eyes looking at the floor, Aurora curtsied before the red witch. She kept her eyes lowered, held her position, even as she heard the rustling of the dark dress above her. Her legs ached in the position, and it took a moment for her to realize that the spot on the floor that her eyes had fixated on was not stone but blood. Blood that had seeped so deep into the stone that it had stained the ancient material a deep black. Blood, that could be hers next.
"You are the sweetest little pet," Amarantha stated in a sultry sweet voice as her right hand grabbed Aurora's face and pulled her gaze away from the floor. Her sharpened claws dug into the smooth skin on her face as she pressed her fingers further into Aurora's cheeks. Her other hand rose to trace the scar the cut through her brow. "A shame that tempers could cause such an ugly mark on a beautiful face," she cooed as her nail pressed deeper into the scar tissue. Aurora did her best not to hiss as she smelt the fresh blood as the black claw tore open the old wound. "Maybe I could be persuaded to keep you. You would never need to worry about the Attor again," Amarantha stated as she brought her bloody nail to her lips and placed it inside her mouth. Aurora was certain that the movement was intended to be sensual, but her stomach rolled in revulsion at the sentiment. Her eyes, briefly flashed to the stunning purple orbs that lingered in the darkness near Amarantha's throne, and willed herself not to grimace.
Aurora was no stranger to the way that Amarantha ran her court, the scars on her back would prove that she was not entirely sheltered. However, being born in the court put her centuries younger than the other fae below the mountain. In their youthfulness- and their status- both Aurora and Mira had been protected by the other faerie from many punishments and parts of court. The most notable, being pets to Amarantha's bed. It was no secret that Amarantha enjoyed herself, and other fae, with no remorse. Her favorite whore's eyes lingering on the girl as she hovered in a curtsey proved that.
Amarantha noticed the brief glance to the Lord of Night, and with a sly grin released Aurora from her grasp.
"Well, maybe I am not your type."
Still lowered in her curtsey, Aurora saw only the blood red heels move onto the dais, once again, to stand before the black pair that had previously hovered in the shadows. The sultry laugh and rustle of clothes in the otherwise silent room told Aurora everything she needed to know, even as her eyes returned to the blacked spot on the floor.
"I expect to see everyone here tomorrow. I have a celebration planned for our forty-ninth year, as I had planned to tell you all before I was rudely interrupted." Even without looking, Aurora could hear the disdain for the fae that occupied the court in Amarantha's voice, as well as the wet sucking on her skin from the Night fae. "Court dismissed."
Aurora did not have time to stand before she felt two small hands grabbing her, one on her waist and the other on her bicep, pulling her back and away from the dais. Spinning on her heel, Aurora matched the quick strides of her twin as they pulled their wings in and tried to blend into the crowd that was heading out of the stone doors.
"Aurora, why…"
"Not now, Mira." Aurora abruptly halted whatever her twin had to say. Mira glanced around the crowd, eyes briefly settling on a fae that Aurora could not see, before looking back at her sister with a concerned frown. It was unsettling to see the emotion expressed so publicly, but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Mira and Aurora left casting brief glances, light touches to the other's hand, and knowing that until they were alone in their chambers that there was no secrecy or safety to be had, even in whispered words.
Following the crowds down the halls, until the majority veered off to the servants' quarters and Mira and Aurora were left with a thinning crowd toward the suites for the high lords and their families, the girls walked in silence. Occasionally, Mira's eyes would dart behind her, as if making sure that the fae around them were who was supposed to be there.
Aurora was quick to pull Mira into the doorway to their suite. The girls standing in the doorway, watching as the Summer Lord's cousins wandered by with forlorn expressions. The Autumn court, Beron and all his sons, walking behind Summer with purpose. Not a single member of the red-headed ensemble seemed shaken by the court proceedings, but considering the history, court could have been much worse. Aurora's eyes briefly flickered to her twin as the last of the Autumn heirs passed, Mira never taking her eyes from the hall.
"Where is he?" Mira muttered as the last heir passed.
Both girls were harboring the same subtle worry. From the Hall to the suite, neither girl had seen their father.
"My little birds," the relieved endearment escaped like a sigh from their father's lips as he rounded the corner and sprinted to the girl's room. He pulled the girls into a tight embrace, one in each arm, as he shuffled them into the room. Thesan broke apart from the embrace only to pull the door shut, making sure the lock was secure, before returning the girls into his arms again. "We must do better to keep out of her attentions."
Thesan's voice was firm, with both concern and warning as he pulled back enough to look into the girls' eyes. "She no longer sees you as faeling, and the high lords can only protect you so much." His eyes began to mist at the fact. There was always the threat that Amarantha would kill them, simply for existing. For so long, they were a success product of her manipulation. Pairing the Dawn Highlord with the seemingly Peregryn for entertainment, that resulted in two powerful demi-fae. Or so they were told. The girls only held their magic for as long as they were hidden. As soon as Amarantha returned to collect Luciana's body, she took their power just as she had taken all the others. For so long the girls were a secret. The High Lords knew there were heirs, but they were as much of a secret as one could have under the mountain. When they were finally presented at court, they were still but faeling; mere eight years old. Now at forty-six, they were well past the age of protection. Even if they had never seen the sky, never touched grass, and never held a lungful of air that wasn't stale, Amarantha would taint them further. No longer would whips, chains, and long nights in the dungeons be their punishment. From here forward, it seemed that Amarantha would notice their beauty. And there was nothing that was allowed to be beautiful under the mountain, unless it was the Queen herself.