Chapter Text
The first time it happened Tamlin had nearly tripped on the basket as he stepped outside. With his court as fractured as it was collecting tithe wasn’t something he was particularly concerned about. But on the day of the tithe, there on the steps of his empty home was a basket. It was lined with a simple green and cream checkered fabric and held a few jars of what looked like jam and a larger jar of basic medicinal herbs. Then there were the bread rolls and a covered container of what smelled like honey butter. There had been no note, and whoever left it hadn’t stayed long enough for him to see them. Part of him wondered if someone had left it there to mock him. But just in case it had been a genuine effort… he brought the gift inside, carefully unpacking the offering in his kitchen and leaving the basket back outside in case they returned for it. The next morning it had vanished, the only indication that it had actually happened being the contents still sitting in his otherwise empty kitchen.
Six months later it happened again. The same basket. A few of the jam jars were traded out for pickled vegetables and the herbs were traded out for wild plums, blackberries, and hazelnuts. The rolls and honey butter remained unchanged though. And this time they’d left a note.
Thanks for returning the basket.
- C. R.
He didn’t recognize the initials or the handwriting. Not that there was much of it to recognize. After he unloaded the basket of its contents again, he’d spent nearly three hours searching for a quill and some ink so he could write on the back of the bit of parchment.
Who are you?
He’d left the note outside with the basket, but when he checked the steps the next morning he found nothing.
And for the next six months, the curiosity gnawed at him. A year and a half of this relatively small noninteraction and whoever it was had not asked for anything in return. If they were really paying tithe then he was obligated to protect them. Or thank them at the very least...
He was awake before the sun rose in the morning. Lingering on the steps in the form of a small ginger street cat. A little mangy so as to not be too suspicious. He’d nearly dozed off again when something shifted in the trees, setting him on high alert once more. A cloaked figure emerged with a familiar basket. They approached slowly, and Tamlin made note of the way they moved. Not as clumsy as a human but certainly not the effortless grace of the high fae. They stepped around snarled plants but occasionally their boot scraped against gravel and they paused their movements to see if anything would happen. When it didn’t they finished clearing the distance to the steps, setting the basket down on the top step. Tamlin slunk forward, ears flat and teeth bared. A feral cat in all but mind. They didn’t stumble back or even flinch though. No, instead they knelt and carefully stretched a hand out in his direction.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gone in a moment. Can I trust you not to run off with this?” the voice came out smooth and gentle. Tamlin took a tentative sniff of those fingers that the stranger had stopped a safe distance away from his face. Letting him be the one to approach. It was a distinct smell, though not unpleasant. Soap, and grass with some sweetness at the back. Maybe some kind of fruit? He rubbed the top of his head against their fingers and the stranger moved their hand to scratch behind his ears. It drew a pur out of him before he could stop it. He peered up at their face but it was hard to make out details while it was still dark and their face was obstructed from view by the hood of their cloak. As they stood though, he caught a flash of red hair. They turned, made their way back to the tree line and once they'd crossed into the wood Tamlin shifted back into the form most recognizable to others. He could wait here for them to come back. He looked at the basket. Bread rolls and cookies. Glass bottles of juice and more foragable nuts and berries. A note sat on top. With an answer to his question from six months ago.
Nobody important.
Tamlin set the basket inside the door, shutting it securely before shifting into a bird and flitting into the trees to find the stranger again. They walked less carefully once they were hidden by the trees. Following a narrow path until it abruptly ended. The end didn't seem to phase them though as they simply stepped off the dusty path and continued forward. Their walk took a while but he knew it hadn't been any longer than two hours when they broke through the trees into a small clearing. There was only one building, a small cottage with chipping white paint and a decent enough roof. A garden had been planted next to it and on the other side of the building was a well that clearly saw regular use.
The cloaked figure stepped inside the building for a moment and when they came back outside without their cloak Tamlin finally got a look at them. Or rather, her. A woman with wavy red hair stepped back outside, brown eyes skipping right over him as she watched another group of birds take flight. She wore dark trousers and leather boots, a knife strapped to her left thigh barely visible under her long and loose cream tunic which was pulled in at the waist by a thick brown belt. She tucked her hair back behind her ears and he noticed them then. The ears that did not come to quite so sharp a point as his own. Not rounded like a human’s either but somewhere in between. How the hell had a demi fae ended up in the Spring Court?
Cordelia Rosenthal had not spent her whole life in the Spring Court. But when the opportunity to cross over from the human lands arose, it seemed like the right choice to make. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could have survived there. She’d lived in a relatively small town but she had been raised knowing that revealing her parentage was dangerous, wearing her hair in ways that hid the strangeness of her ears and making herself too useful to anyone who might look too close if she didn’t. And getting married was out of the question. No human man would take her if they knew what she was and hiding it until after a wedding took place rubbed her the wrong way. Despite her mother’s insistence that it needed to be done to secure a finer quality of life, Cordelia had refused. Refused until the day her mother passed from the world entirely. It had been bittersweet to stand at a plain headstone and know that if she left there would be no one to maintain it. But if Cordelia was going to be alone for the rest of her life… she might as well do it somewhere she could tie her hair back. So she’d knelt at her mother’s grave to whisper her goodbyes, packed up a bag, and made her way to where the wall had once stood. The trip had been miserable. But she’d made it. She’d collapsed inside an abandoned cottage and watched the sunrise in her new home. What an odd feeling it was to turn 32 in a land so close but unfamiliar to where she’d grown up.
After Cordelia returned from the High Lord’s manor, she squinted at the trees as she watched a small flock of birds take off from the branches. She’d heard about the tithe when she’d first arrived in the court. The last official tithe had not gone well according to rumors in the small towns she’d stumbled across but the function of it had taken some prodding to discover. It had made sense to her though. A biannual offering to the court’s High Lord in exchange for his protection and services to the court. Like taxes except it didn’t have to be paid in gold. The citizens had tried to tell her that the practice hadn’t been honored since before the war but she hadn’t felt right doing nothing. So she’d offered a basket of things she used regularly. She didn’t often have gold and when she did it usually went toward acquiring new books. And from the talk of the people and the state of the manor, she thought he might appreciate the food and herbs a bit more…
After the birds were dots on the horizon Cordelia picked up a large basket from inside the door of the cottage, hefting in her arms and kicking the door shut behind her before walking away from the building toward a cluster of trees. She liked this spot, below magnolia trees and surrounded by clusters of white daisies and jacobs ladder. She set the basket down and tucked the book that sat on top under her arm as she drew out the blanket. A quilt she’d brought with her from the human lands. She spread it out over the grass and sat down on top, crossing her legs and pulling out her canteen from the basket. She unscrewed the cap and propped her book on a knee as she took a sip. A breeze skimmed over her, a soft one that gently blew her hair over her shoulder and she closed her eyes for a moment. Just sitting in that breeze and relishing in it. The faint smell of tilled soil and lilac. She couldn’t remember seeing any lilac bushes nearby but there was always something she’d missed. She flipped her book open. Maybe she’d go looking for the flowers later when she got up to take care of the garden. The scent settled something in her and she smiled to herself as she turned a page.
Chapter Text
Cordelia picked her way through the woods back to the gravel path toward the manor. She'd lingered a bit too long in her garden so it would be getting dark by the time she returned to the cottage but she didn't mind that. At worst it meant that she would have to put her search for the lilac bushes on hold for a bit. She hurried down the path once she reached it, kicking up dust as she went.
She slowed when she approached the manor house. Rosehall, they'd called it in the nearest town. Once the High Lord had hosted balls and solstice gatherings here with his emissary. It had been a grand place never closed to his people. Now it was run down, lights never seemed to flicker anywhere inside and Cordelia thought she might be the only person to venture near it. Certainly, no petitioners ventured this close. She took one step up the front stairs and froze when she saw someone standing there. It had to be him right? He turned his head to look at her and she swallowed. She should run. If he wasn't the High Lord then it was dangerous for her to linger. He held up a piece of paper and for a moment she was distracted by her own handwriting.
“You know… this is the most anyone's bothered to communicate with me in close to a year. Other than the Night Court's emissary, I mean…” He picked up her basket which had been sitting by the door. It wasn't empty as she'd expected though. He took a few steps down and Cordelia turned on her heels angling to run into the woods. “No, I-! Please wait.” She only managed one step forward before his hand wrapped around her wrist. “I didn't mean to startle you. I know you just came back for this but I wanted to repay some of your kindness.” She turned to look at him again and he released her wrist.
“There is nothing to repay.” She spoke quickly. She didn't want to sound too frantic but she couldn't help it. She didn't interact with many high fae, let alone a High Lord. Quite frankly the ones she had spoken with at all treated her like dirt. She was too human, too soon after the war. She normally found herself in a town inhabited by ‘lesser faeries’ as a result when she had to venture into a town anyway. “It was simply my contribution to the court.” She wrung her wrists and he set the basket down in front of her, before tucking his hands behind his back. “No one would judge you for declining to contribute anything.” His voice was quiet, but a bit hoarse like he hadn't spoken like this at all in the past year. Carefully, Cordelia bent down to pick up the basket. “You owe me nothing, my Lord.” “Tamlin.” He corrected her with a slight grimace. “I think this court is well past observing proper titles.” He took a step back, looking intently at her face. She looked at the ground. “My point stands… you owe me nothing.” He kicked a piece of stone to the side, off the wide steps. “If not for your tithe payments let it be for speaking to me. Even if this is the last time you stop to do so.” Cordelia picked at some loose threads in the basket's lining, “...alright. Thank you.” He retreated a few more steps backward and she looked up again. “I… I won't keep you longer. Please, you are free to take your leave.” he nodded toward the trees and Cordelia half turned away. But she paused, bouncing on her toes for a moment before saying quickly, “I… My name is Cordelia. Have a nice night, Tamlin.” She dipped into the shallowest curtsy she could manage before sprinting toward the trees, nearly tripping on some debris and a few particularly snarled bushes.
Cordelia waited until the next morning to look at what the High Lord had slipped into her basket. She still wasn't sure why he'd sent her anything back at all. Surely as a High Lord, he could demand company if he wanted it… She reached in and pulled out a stack of books. No wonder it was so heavy… she thought to herself as she examined the covers. Next to the books sat a folded paper. Sealed with wax so probably a letter. She opened it cautiously, finding more of the handwriting from his first note. The one asking who she was.
Miss,
I wanted to thank you. I have not properly observed the Tithe since before the war but your consideration is appreciated regardless. As a citizen of this court please seek me out if you need anything.
And I would ask that you consider visiting me again. Maybe to talk about one of these books? I'm sure you must be bored living on your own…
With care,
Tamlin.
It wasn't a long letter but certainly longer than the notes. She turned her attention to the books again. Four different novels, now stacked on her small table. Elegant covers with a few scratches. Like they’d been sitting on a shelf that had gotten knocked over. Given the state of Rosehall after the war she supposed it should be a surprise that they hadn’t been burned. She slipped the top book from the top and flipped the cover open. She hadn’t had something new to read in quite some time. The village she went to when the need arose was limited in their resources. Finding new books for the outsider who visited once a month wasn’t high on their list of priorities. She finished her morning tea, setting the empty mug aside and crossing her legs on her chair as she flicked past the title page. There was no sense in letting the books just sit there after all…
Tamlin wasn’t sure what had convinced him to start clearing debris from Rosehall. Maybe because Cordelia had nearly tripped while she was trying to leave. Or maybe it was just something to do with his time. Clearing large stones and hefting them away in pushcarts. Summoning claws to clear brambles and overgrown tangles. Those also had to be gathered up and carted away. It didn’t make the manor look more homey by any means but it at least didn’t look like the building was going to sprout teeth and eat you. Without the lining of rose and lilac bushes along the staircase the front entrance looked bare. It might be a good place for a table. He might be able to find one intact from when his mother would throw tea parties in her garden. The idea of those tables in pieces tugged at his heart. He had not stopped to miss his mother in quite some time. There was little of her left here by now. Shattered tea tables, broken tea sets, a garden that lay in tangled ruins. He’d spent a week cleaning debris and thinking about anything but why he’d let his home become this mess. Because if he stopped to think about why things had gone wrong or about who and what he had been trying so desperately to keep and repair he’d lose himself again. The foyer and a parlor had each been cleared of broken furniture, swept and mopped by the end of the week. Not nearly as much as he’d thought he might be able to accomplish. But he was trying. That had to count for something, right? It had to be some sign that living in a ruin had started to get under his skin.
He woke up late the morning after he’d started clearing out his former study. It had been emotionally draining to be in that room again so he wasn’t surprised that it took him longer to drag himself out of bed. For a while, he’d just stared at the ceiling. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he just stayed there right? Just… stayed in one spot and faded away. Maybe the next High Lord would fix what he hadn’t been able to keep from shattering.
But the drifting thoughts had been interrupted by a wholly unfamiliar sound. Knocking. Knocking on the front door. It couldn’t be Rhysand. Rhysand didn’t bother knocking. He slipped a new shirt over his head and made his way to the doors. Tying his hair back before he reached to open it. The heavy door creaked open and Tamlin made a note to look at the hinges later. He stopped again when he saw his guest though. The red hair and brown eyes that scanned the area around her. The changes from the last time she’d been here.
“Cordelia, what-”
“Your book made me cry.” she declared, pulling one of the books he sent with her out of the leather satchel at her side. She held it up and pointed it at him, in an almost accusatory manner. As if he’d been trying to make her cry. He tilted his head to examine the title. “Yeah, I can’t say I’m surprised. That’s a heavy one.” She pulled the book back, out of his face. “Right… well… do you want to talk about it?” Tamlin considered the words for a moment and slowly pushed the door further open to let her inside.
Chapter Text
Cordelia took a few cautious steps inside the manor. It was a bit dark but the foyer was mostly empty. She noted some scratches in the walls but the edges were worn in like they’d been there for a while, not recent damage. She hadn’t been expecting much but she’d expected… something. A coat stand or a bench but save for the building’s built-in features, the foyer was completely empty. Two curved staircases lined the left and right walls, casting a shadow over the doors to the east and west wing respectively. A floor up she could see the landing where the stairs joined. The landing had a single door, which she could only assume led to another set of rooms and the door directly below the landing was cracked, and missing its handle. Looking back up at the ceiling she saw brass metalwork, bits and pieces that indicated that some kind of chandelier had once hung there. It must have been beautiful…
“I can see why you might feel lonely here,” she said as he closed the doors behind them. Tamlin approached her but stopped a healthy distance away. “Is the whole house this sparse?” she turned her head to look at him and he shook his head.
“To be honest, I only cleared this out recently. There wasn’t much I could salvage after Hybern tore through here. Their first venture through my court was already unpleasant but after I infiltrated their base camp towards the end of the war they made a point of destroying whatever they could when they passed through again. As if I cared what happened to the building anymore…” Cordelia frowned slightly as he trailed off. His voice still had that hoarse quality to it. He’d been alone for some time so it made sense that he may have let it fall into disuse. But most unsettling was the hollow edge to his words. She didn’t know how to fix something like that. She could get him used to talking again, but the emptiness… whatever caused that ran much deeper. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much. She didn’t really know him at all. But did that matter? Whether she knew him or not, he was still a person. A person who had spent nearly a year in an empty house that people went well out of their way to avoid. She cleared her throat, “Well, if you have someplace to sit I have some thoughts.” Tamlin nodded striding toward the west door, “Is the kitchen okay?” he asked and she nodded as she hurried to follow him.
“You can’t honestly tell me you didn’t find it romantic.”
“Of course I did, but a romantic relationship isn’t the only thing a romance novel requires. It needs a happily-ever-after or at least an optimistic ending.”
“It had an optimistic ending.”
“They both died! ”
“And it began a new era of peace for their kingdoms. They were at peace with it so long as they had each other.”
“I think that the ending needs to include the characters for that to count.” Cordelia pushed the book across the table toward him and picked up the plain tea cup he’d offered her some hours ago at this point.
He wasn't sure how they'd ended up debating what was arguably the subplot when the overarching narrative had been rather more focused on political intrigue and royal machinations. Or maybe he did. She'd made a comment while he was refilling her cup, a rather dismissive comment about how the main couple's deaths at the end of the story shouldn't have solved everything and how it made the whole thing a political tragedy, not a romance. He'd tried to argue that the tragedy didn't automatically make it not a romance but she was rather stubborn about the whole thing.
“Well, I think it's romantic. Someone being willing to give their life for you. I can't think of a greater sacrifice to make.” Tamlin slowly spun his own cup on the table. Cordelia paused and looked at his face. A frank and assessing look that made him straighten his back. She frowned slightly and he suddenly felt like he'd failed some secret test.
“I can. I can't stand the idea that someone might choose to die for me. I would carry that grief for the rest of my life. I could never inflict that on someone I cared for. Not when I'd spend the rest of my time on earth wondering what kind of life they could have had if I hadn't stumbled into it.” She leveled another meaningful look at him but he looked down at the table.
He wanted to agree with her. The Mother knew of all the guilt he felt for Feyre's death under the mountain. But Feyre had loved him back then. He would have understood if she told Amarantha that she didn't love him to stop the assault. But she hadn't. She'd stayed resolute and while a small part of him had loved her for defending their connection, a much larger part of his soul had cracked and wanted to scream and beg Feyre to just let it go. Save herself so he wouldn't have to watch her die. So he would not have to learn how to live without her in the world. He could have taken it so long as she lived well. That had to be love. He had been willing to die for her. He'd thought he may have doomed all of Prythian by sending her home but as long as she was safe it hadn't mattered. Love was sacrifice. A life in service to your partner. It had to be or everything he had done until now… what had it all meant if it wasn't love?
He flinched as something else hit the table. Another book but not one of his. She stacked it on top of the one he'd lent her and pushed them across the table toward him.
“I think the greatest sacrifice one can make for love is committing to seeing through your life with or without them. Because if your partner truly cared for you, then it wouldn't matter if you were with them so long as you were safe” She tapped the cover of the book to present it to him, “This is one of my favorite love stories. I think you could do with reading something with a happy ending.” He could feel her watching him as he pulled the books a bit closer, and cracked the front cover open.
“You say this one is your favorite?” He asked and Cordelia nodded. Taking a sip of her tea, though he was sure it had gone cold by now. “That book made me believe in true love.” she declared and Tamlin almost laughed. “High praise. I’m impressed” “Come now, I’m not entirely cynical. I wouldn’t have much of a life if I spent all my time thinking about the bad parts.” Her words came out with a bit of a hum. She wasn’t singing them but there was an underlying musical tone to her voice. She hadn’t been here long but she still seemed far more comfortable than she had a week ago. Though considering she’d literally tripped and run away from him, there was little room for it to get worse. He supposed she had a point. After all, he spent most of his time dwelling on the miserable parts of his past and had such a pitiable life that he didn’t even bother protecting his home with wards anymore. He couldn’t decide if Rhys’s continued refusal to kill him was a mercy or intentional cruelty.
He looked back down at the first page of the book and blinked in surprise.
“You have notes in the margins,” he observed, flipping a few more pages noting the different annotations, underlined words, and entire sections with neat squares noting them as particularly important.
“Oh, that won’t make it harder to read, will it? I didn’t do that to yours if that’s what you’re worried about. I only do it with books I own.” Cordelia explained quickly but Tamlin shook his head as he continued flipping through.
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, it’s clear you have a lot of thoughts about this story. It’ll be nice to see them as I go through it myself.” He smiled to himself as her shoulders sank back down and her posture relaxed. “It’s kind of like talking to you while reading together.” he mused before closing the book and setting it back down on the table. Cordelia looked out the kitchen window and her smile faltered for half a second. “I should get going. I’ll be back next week though, if that’s acceptable to you.” Yes. Next week, or tomorrow. Just come back again. Please. Tamlin swallowed those words as he stood and swept the books into his arms. “I’d like that very much.”
Cordelia stood, picking up her cloak from the stool next to her and following Tamlin back into the foyer.
“Should I expect you to be done with that by the time I return, or should I expect we spend the whole visit talking about only what I read again?” She asked as she slung her cloak back around her shoulders.
“I think I can manage. Try not to get lost in the woods, hm?” he replied, opening the door for her. Cordelia snorted and waved a hand, “Please, I could navigate my way back home with my eyes shut. Have a nice evening Tamlin.” she smiled and stepped back out. He lingered by the door until he couldn’t see her amongst the trees anymore. He was glad she considered the Spring Court her home. That she was living a good life here. He was happier still that he might be able to see more small pieces of that life if she kept visiting.
Chapter Text
“You were actually at Rosehall?” Thorne brushed some sawdust off the bench leg he was working on, looking over his shoulder at Cordelia who he’d talked into ‘testing’ one of his completed projects. Testing mostly involved sitting on a bench or chair while he complained about his back bothering him. Though today his sister had joined him in the workshop. Bloom sat nearby sorting through some recent orders, every now and then putting on a pair of goggles to duck into a smaller shed they had for their minimal metalwork. Cordelia didn’t have many friends in town but these two had been her first. Thorne had been the one to approach her first. She’d never met faeries like them. Thorne’s skin looked like aspen bark and interspersed in his deep hair were strands of matching leaves that shifted slowly like he was eternally stuck in a low breeze. Bloom looked more like what one would call high fae. A bit more human-looking if not for the flower petals that scattered from her head and shoulders when she sneezed. And the powder white hair with more of those soft pink flowers. Oh, and the wings. Giant layered flower petals with swaths of pale pinks and purples. Delicate wings that had once carried her on gentle spring winds. Cordelia nodded at Thorne and clarified,
“I didn’t see much inside. The foyer, a hallway, and the kitchen. He was cleaning the house out of everything that was broken when Hybern stormed through.”
The room fell silent as she spoke the name of the kingdom. Even the scrape of Thorne’s chisel paused. But only for a moment. Then another curl of light wood fell to the ground at his feet. Then another, and another. Bloom walked over from the desk in the corner and sat down next to Cordelia.
“Sorry, we try not to talk about… that. It’s just a really sore spot for our family, y’know?” She nodded and Bloom gave her knee a light squeeze. “Talk to me about it though. What was he like? I never met the High Lord. It was always my brother and mother going to pay the tithe.” A small scoff interrupted Thorne’s scraping and carving but he made no comment besides that.
“He was… I don’t know. Anxious. He was very lonely. He clearly hasn’t talked to anyone other than that emissary the Night Court sends every now and then.” Bloom nodded slowly absorbing Cordelia’s every word like water. She folded her hands together and shook some flower petals from her head. “What did you talk about?” she asked and Cordelia shrugged, “Just a book.” Bloom nudged her shoulder, “Come on… it couldn’t be just a book. Not when you’re smiling like that.” Cordelia brushed her friend off, “I’m just glad to have found someone willing to talk to me about stories. That’s all.” And she was. It wasn’t something many other people worried about these days so it had been nice to talk to someone about a book. It had been so long since she’d been able to recommend a book to someone else. Bloom raised a skeptical brow but didn’t push the subject further. She picked up one of the flower petals from the bench under them and rolled it between her fingers as a thoughtful expression crossed her face. “What is it?” Cordelia asked but Bloom remained silent for a moment. “It’s nothing.” She dropped the crumpled petal to the ground and smiled at Cordelia. “You should tell me more about that book he had you read.” It wasn’t a subtle subject change but Cordelia couldn’t think of a reason to insist. If Bloom wanted to talk then she would. Eventually. “It was just a romance novel. Can ask you about a few things? Just some things about what happened before the war?” Bloom glanced over at her brother, before standing up and ushering Cordelia out of the workshop and back into the house.
She shut the door quietly behind them and motioned for Cordelia to take a seat at the kitchen table while she poured two cups of water.
“Sorry, Thorne doesn’t like talking about before the war.” she set a glass down in front of Cordelia and took a seat for herself in one of the backless chairs. Backless so she wouldn’t damage what was left of her wings. Flower petals were very delicate after all… “So, what did you want to know about?” Bloom took a sip of her water while Cordelia found words for her questions.
“When I first arrived here I’d heard something about the High Lord’s former betrothed. But it was a bit jumbled, all conflicting facts and opinions.” Bloom blew some hair out of her face, sending a few petals scattering onto the table. Cordelia brushed them into a pile with a hand while Bloom explained. “The court has mixed feelings about her. Really mixed. When most of us were trapped Under the Mountain, she came back to save him. Her love for him, her willingness to die rather than say otherwise, it ended up saving all of us.” Bloom picked at a loose thread on the table cloth and Cordelia digested that first sentence. Tamlin’s ex had died. She’d come back apparently but that didn’t change that she’d given up her life not knowing that would happen. It was no wonder Tamlin had set that as the ultimate romantic sacrifice. It had been that romantic sacrifice that saved his court the first time. Bloom continued, “Then when she came back she was different. She started growing distant from him. And working with the High Lord of the Night Court. Visiting him one week every month as part of a bargain she’d made with him while she was still human. And one day she vanished from the manor. Sent a letter back that she wasn’t coming back. The aftermath was bad… and when they conceded to working with Hybern to get her back it only got worse.” Bloom cast a look out the window. Like she was worried that someone was listening to them. “And once again, she came back different. Half of us aren’t sure she would do anything to hurt us after she’d been through so much to rescue us all but others… they saw her tear the Spring Court apart and leave us open to being run through by Hybern as just her final betrayal of us. Thorne thinks that if she ever cared about us then it was only because the safety of the court was important to the High Lord. That after she took a higher position in another court then we were just more lesser faeries to her. Why would our safety and continued livelihood here matter to the High Lady of the Night Court all the way across Prythian.”
Cordelia covered Bloom’s trembling hand on the table with her own,
“Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s obviously a sore subject here.” Bloom swiped at her eyes with her free hand, flipping the one on the table upright to grip her friend’s hand.
“It was awful, Delia.” Bloom gripped her hand tightly as she whispered, “Fire and steel everywhere. She turned nearly half the sentries against the court, there weren’t enough people in the guard to protect those of us who couldn’t get away.” Cordelia stood and walked closer, carefully wrapping her arms around Bloom’s shoulders. “I know, I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again, I’m sorry.” Bloom turned in her seat to wrap an arm around Cordelia. “It okay… it over… if we don’t talk about it then it just haunts us… and I don’t want this to be the thing that haunts me.” her voice wavered slightly and Cordelia swallowed a small lump in her throat as she tightened her grip on her friend. Like somehow this hug might be able to protect her…
“Oh, wow… you really are in the garden.” a familiar voice approached Tamlin from behind, nearly distracting from the knotted and tangled roots he was pulling up. He twisted a bit harder and leaned back.
“Not much longer,” he grunted a simple answer back and barely managed to keep himself upright as the roots finally gave way and pulled up from the ground. He tossed the mangled plant into the wheeled cart nearby and brushed his hands off before he turned. Bron looked around what had once been a prized flower garden and frowned slightly. “And what exactly does this mean?” he asked. Tamlin didn’t have an answer though. Not one he wanted to hear anyway. “I’m not sure yet…” he admitted, kicking at a bit of loose earth at his feet. It shamed him that he hadn’t expected Bron or Hart to hear about the movement near Rosehall. He should have known better than to assume they would abandon this court they’d grown up in. They’d spent forty-nine years under a mountain while hoping to return someday.
Tamlin picked up the cart handles but paused when Bron stepped in front of it. Bron looked between Tamlin and the garden. And then he quietly walked up next to Tamlin, taking the cart handles and pushing it forward.
“You don’t have to-” he started but Bron cut in,
“If you’re really done living in the ruins here, then let me help. I didn’t wait all those years just to return home and watch it rot away. I will not just stand by and watch you fade now. Not if you’ve decided that it’s worth it to try and rebuild.” He pushed the cart forward again and Tamlin watched as one of his oldest friends took on a burden for him yet again. Without being asked Bron had come back to help him and Tamlin wasn’t sure how to thank him for that.
Chapter Text
Cordelia swung the front doors of Rosehall open with one arm and called inside,
“Tamlin!? Are you here?! I know it hasn’t been a week but- Whoah!” Someone careened around a corner and there was a blade in front of her face.
“Who are you?” they demanded and Cordelia stammered, “Cor- I was just- Tamlin was-” And then there was a face she recognized, pulling the stranger back by their shoulder,
“Cauldron-! Cordelia, I am so sorry.” She shook her head looking between the two. To their credit, the stranger looked a bit embarrassed now that they’d heard her name. Tamlin stepped in front of them and looked her over as if she might have gotten injured in the five seconds before he appeared. “I'm so sorry, I told him I didn't have wards around the estate and it's not sitting well with him.” Cordelia tried to calm her breathing but found herself looking between the two men- males- and her heart ran straight up her throat. “I- You- I can't-” she mentally cursed herself for the continuing stammering but Tamlin pulled her over to a bench at the side of the room, urging her to sit down and breathe. “Deep breaths. Breathe in.” He instructed in a steady tone. Like one might soothe a panicking horse, but she took a deep breath. “Good… now let it go… just like that.” She repeated the action a few times. “Y-you smell like dust.” She said finally and Tamlin smiled, “Yes well I've smelled like worse things before. Are you alright? I wasn't expecting you for another few days.” Cordelia nodded as he heart began to slow to it’s normal pace. She was fairly certain her soul had left her body at the sight of that blade but slowly she was drawing it back. “Y-yes, well I finished that next book early and came to bring you something from the carpenter in town.” She looked at the stranger lingering nearby. He wore a strange expression, guilt warring with suspicion that kept his brow furrowed and his shoulders stiff. “Does he really think I of all people could hurt you?” She whispered to Tamlin who chuckled a bit shakily. “As I said, he’s a bit tense. He and another friend of mine arrived shortly after you ended your last visit.” Cordelia nodded but it made her a little uneasy to know that there was another fae male quick with a blade wandering around the grounds. She’d made peace with her heritage but it didn’t change how she felt about all the stories she’d heard about the fae while growing up among humans.
She cleared her throat and stood, taking a small step away from the High Lord of Spring who quickly drew his hand away from her. She realized that had been the steadying weight against her back as she drew in those calming breaths and filed away the emotions that brought up to be examined later. She made her way to the door and picked up the objects she had dropped in her surprise.
“My friend from the carpenter sent me back with a gift for your household. I think she was just glad that I got all of my bookish thoughts out with you before she had to sit through them again.” She set the coat stand down next to the door and examined the surface of the carefully polished wood for any scratches or splinters. She’d been surprised when Bloom insisted she bring it to the High Lord. Thorne hadn’t seemed to be eager to send Tamlin anything, but his sister had picked out a specific piece after grilling Cordelia for details about the interior of Rosehall, with an entirely unsubtle request that Cordelia bring the lord to visit in person at some time in the future. No amount of belaboring from Cordelia that she and Tamlin were not that close had dissuaded her.
“That’s very kind of them. And rather unexpected. If you wait for a moment I can find something for you to bring back to them.” Cordelia sighed. She was already growing weary of playing messenger. “Why don’t you just come with me to thank them? Bloom was quite curious about you, I imagine just seeing you would be more than enough to keep her buzzing for weeks.” The words were out of her mouth before she’d really taken a moment to consider them. She wasn’t sure what had emboldened her to say anything but ‘certainly’ or ‘that suits me just fine’ but she at least knew he wouldn’t harm her for the insolence. She wondered how many people living in fae realms could say the same of their lords and overseers. “If you keep frowning your face will get stuck like that,” Tamlin warned, drawing her out of her thoughts of the other courts. “Sorry, I just got distracted. You don’t have to come with me to visit them if you don’t want to. I know you are a bit out of practice when it comes to paying visits to others.”
Tamlin straightened slightly and for a moment she wondered if she’d said something wrong. Perhaps her attempt at understanding had come off instead as judgment. Some rustling sounded from down a hall but she found herself preoccupied with deciphering the set of Tamlin's brow and the slight shadow that fell over him. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a different man pushed Tanlin forward, grinning broadly over the High Lord's shoulder.
“That sounds like a great idea. Don't you think Tammy? You could use some air and you wouldn't want her friends to think poorly of you right?” Tamlin grimaced but nodded,
“You have a point. It would be impolite not to thank them myself. But not today. It's already growing a bit late.” The first stranger approached Tamlins's other side and gestured to Cordelia,
“Well, then you should at least walk her home. Proper gentlemen don't let young ladies walk home alone in the dark.” He chided Tamlin, settling into the same banter as the other. Tamlin sighed and gestured to each of them, “Cordelia, these are my friends. Bron and Hart.” Cordelia looked them over and nodded quietly. “It's nice to meet you.” The brunette poked his friend, “Or at least one of us. I promise he was raised better than to raise steel against unarmed young women.” She didn't point out that she wasn't entirely unarmed but all the same, the black-haired stranger stepped out from behind Tamlin and bowed his head,
“My sincerest apologies, miss.” Cordelia shook her head, “It's alright. If nothing else we'll certainly remember one another now.” Bron, the more jovial of the two, picked up a deep green cloak from nearby and tossed it over Tamlin's head, pushing him toward the doors, “Off you go now. We don't want to keep the lady waiting.” Cordelia blinked at the blatant ordering around of the highest authority of their court but Hart pat her shoulder, “Don't worry too much about it. Have a safe trip home.” He walked back down one of the hallways and Cordelia hurried after Bron and Tamlin.
Bron summoned a small ball of light in his palm and sent in flying to one of the glass lamps hanging on the front gates.
“Sorry about them. They're pushy.” Tamlin apologized for his friends, but Bron simply lit the other lamp on the gate before walking back inside.
“...I think it's nice. They clearly care a lot about you.” She admitted, looking back at the building. Tamlin nodded, as he attempted to untangle his hair from the clasp on his cloak. “Here. You'll tear your hair out if you just pull like that.” She approached him again, and slowly freed his hair from the silver clasp. “There we go.” She went to tuck her hands behind her back as she took a step away but Tamlin offered her an arm. Cordelia began to object but Tamlin nodded back toward the house. “We'll never hear the end of it if I let you go alone.” She caught some movement in one of the windows and sighed, sliding her arm through his, “Are all your friends so nosy?” “They used to be worse if you can believe it,” Tamlin said, carefully guiding her down the stone steps and away from Rosehall.
He made a good shield, she supposed. Nothing was inclined to mess with her while he was close. And it was nice to have some to help her over the logs that fell across her path home, and the creek that seemed to get wider with every trip she took across it. And he was warm. Even when the sun was setting he felt warm. So much so that she had to remind herself not to bury her hands in his cloak. As they approached the clearing she found herself wishing the path were longer. Even though they hadn't said much of anything to each other along the way. It had been nice to just… be with someone. She was comfortable by herself but it always felt a bit more pronounced after she finished a visit with someone. And this walk home was clearly no exception.
She dragged her feet a bit as Tamlin walked her to the cottage and they both paused at the door.
“Thank you. It was nice to have company on the way back.” She said quietly and Tamlin nodded.
“It's the least I could do. You've been very gracious with your time.” He replied though a bit stiffly. Cordelia kicked at one of the loose paving stones, “I'd invite you in but I imagine that would invite some questions from your friends once you returned home.” Tamlin nodded, “Maybe another time though?” She leaned back against the door, “...yeah. Yes, I think I'd like that. I'll see you in a few days to visit the carpenter. Maybe after we see my friends we can come back here for tea.” Tamlin's shoulders relaxed again and he nodded again. “Yes, that sounds like a good plan.” He bowed his head to her, “Sleep well, Cordelia.” she smiled and reached for the door. “You as well, Tamlin.” she bowed her own head and quietly slipped inside.
She let out a breath as she looked up again at her cottage. Out of sorts and chaotic which would normally be fine.
“Gods spare you, Cordelia,” she muttered to herself and started shelving stray books and tossing things into baskets for proper cleaning in the morning. She wouldn't be able to sleep until the place was in proper condition to greet guests. Even if said guest would not be arriving for a few days and even if she'd seen his home in much worse condition. She wanted her home to leave a good impression on him. For whatever reason she didn't care to examine too closely right now. She tore a bit of bread off the loaf, and ate it with a slice of cheese before starting on her dishes.
Chapter Text
In the window of Cordelia's cottage lingered a patchy orange cat, tail flicking to the side every now and again as it kept an eye on the treeline surrounding the glade. She'd seen it before but that didn’t stop her from wondering why the stray might have followed her here from Rosehall. It had taken to appearing in the evening, for three days in a row it had taken roost in the window as she worked in the garden and darted around her home. She'd been working extra diligently during these last three evenings. And gotten up early on the morning Tamlin was meant to accompany her to town. The cat had watched her rush through her chores and politely lingered outdoors while she bathed. It only reentered when she stuck her head out a window looking for him. Cordelia propped the window open for him, scratching under his chin before returning to her small kitchen table. She'd braided her hair back and silently trimmed flowers from the meadow arranging them in a crystal vase, keeping an eye on a tray of fruit pastries cooling on her counter.
The books Tamlin leant to her sat nicely on an otherwise empty shelf of her solitary bookcase. Save for one which sat on her nightstand with a scrap of ribbon keeping her place toward the end of the novel. When she was finished arranging her small home and then rearranging and rearranging it again she took a deep breath and stopped in front of the old full-length mirror in the corner by her bed. She untied and rebraided her hair, frowned, and braced her hands on her hips.
“What do you think? I can't wear my dagger like this but it's nice right?” she asked and the cat tilted his head to the side as she approached again without an answer to her question. Technically, nothing stopped her from still wearing the dagger at her thigh but it seemed a bit pointless if she couldn’t reach it without rucking her skirt up to her hips. And that certainly was not going to happen. She brushed her fingers over the cat’s head, scratching behind its ears as she hummed thoughtfully. “I probably don't need it today. We’re just going to town…” She still had a bit of time to change though. It didn’t have to be an entire… thing. She could just change into some pants, wear her dagger properly, and Tamlin would never know that she’d even considered dressing up for a simple outing.
The cat nudged it’s head against her palm, before rising to it’s feet and hopping back out the window. She watched as the cat trotted out toward the woods. She couldn’t help but worry for it. She knew if it had gotten here from Rosehall then it was probably perfectly capable of fending for itself but she didn’t like the idea of a little cat all alone in the woods. She considered the window before she decided to leave the window propped open. Just in case it decided to come back.
Tamlin sat on the steps of Rosehall, flipping a dagger in his hand and watching the tree line. A cat sat on the steps next to him, quietly flicking it’s tail as it also looked into the woods. He’d been a little startled to see it approach. It looked very similar to how he’d modeled his own body when he’d shifted into a cat. Back when he didn’t even know what Cordelia looked like. He offered his hand to it but the cat stood and walked a few paces away before sitting down again. It was hard not to be a little offended by the feline’s attitude but he went back to looking at the trees.
He hadn’t spent the whole morning sitting here. No, he’d started it by cleaning the kitchen top to bottom after preparing breakfast and pacing the dining room while Bron and Hart ate. He’d been too nervous to eat a bite of anything himself. Going into town was a daunting thought on the best of days. It was a bit reassuring to know that Cordelia would be there too but what if that just made her look worse to them? What if her association with him made her life worse..? Demi fae lived hard lives on either side of the wall, he didn’t want to add to that.
He straighted as one of the bushes ahead shook and Cordelia stumbled out. She swore and kicked at the exposed roots of the shrub. She huffed and brushed herself off despite the fact that she hadn’t fallen. He was a bit surprised, not only by her sudden approach but the change in her appearance. Normally when Cordelia stopped by she did so in a cloak and trousers. She hadn’t abandoned her usual cream tunic but today she’d layered a burgundy apron style dress over top and rolled her sleeves up. The boots remained of course but it felt strange to see her in a dress. Of course he’d thought the same thing the first time Feyre had worn one too.
The thought caught him so off guard the breath was nearly knocked from him. He didn't want to compare Cordelia to Feyre. It didn't feel fair. Tamlin had failed in his treatment of Feyre. Somewhere, multiple somewheres, he had failed to live up to the male Feyre Cursebreaker had given her life for. Up until recently not a day had gone by that he didn't think of each and every individual choice he'd made in regards to her. Each and every failure glaring. He had been angry during the war. Sometimes all he could remember was that anger. He remembered moments that he had spit venom without gaining a single scale or fang. He'd said awful things but they had felt deserved in the moment. He was no longer so sure. He thought it would be over after he brought Rhysand back for Feyre. He'd told her to be happy with her new life and gone without any illusion that he would ever see her again. Sometimes he wondered if she had sent Rhysand to taunt him. Or if that would be too much for her, and Rhysand hid his torment of him from her. But then he would take a look at what remained of his court and wonder if there was ever a line she wouldn't cross. It hadn't stopped her before.
Fingers snapped in front of his face and Tamlin shook his head as if he might shed the thoughts like drops of water. Cordelia knelt on one knee in front of him, peering at his face with undisguised concern. Right. She'd just arrived. He positioned a fist in front of his mouth and cleared his throat.
“Good morning, Cordelia.” He greeted the woman and she smiled without repositioning the furrow in her brow.
“Good morning, Tamlin. Are you feeling well? You seem quite pale today.” He considered taking the out and retreating inside. Was there shame to be had in admitting defeat here? He doubted anyone in town truly wished to see him. She rested her chin in her hand while she waited for a response. He didn't want to disappoint her. Even if she would not judge him outwardly for canceling their planned outing so last minute he could not stand the thought of disappointing her after she'd helped him make such progress in his life. “It will pass, I think, as I spend more time in the sun. You look nice. Meeting someone?” he asked hoping to shift the subject. And then thought for a moment that he didn't want to know if she usually met someone in town. But she tilted her head to the side. “Yes actually. You might know him, blond, emerald eyes, rather handsome in deep shades of green?” Her tone shifted into something lighter and almost playful. Goading him to respond in kind as she stood and offered a hand to help him to his feet. He took her extended hand and she tugged him upright. “I might know someone like that…” he mumbled and she hooked her arm through his. “He's wonderful company when he's not sulking.” he blew out a breath, “I'm not sulking.” He tried to sound certain about that but he actually wasn't sure. It didn't feel like he'd been sulking, just thinking… “Whatever it was, it's still weighing on you.” Cordelia observed, brown eyes sweeping over his slightly bowed shoulders and semi permanent frown. Her gaze drifted past him toward the manor. Or more likely his friends who had taken post by the front entrance. She eyed them warily and Tamlin thought it ironic how she'd come to trust him more than them. Perhaps she wouldn't if she knew more about how Spring had declined with him at the helm. How if the towns continued moving forward it was in spite of all he'd done and not because. She gave his arm a light squeeze, “Perhaps walking will lighten you burden?” She suggested. He didn't think it would but nodded anyway, letting Cordelia tug him along toward the nearest town.
Chapter Text
She felt a bit silly like this. A lady attaching herself to the side of man. Not just to be escorted home but to be seen like that by others. There was something to be said for the novelty of it. The newness of the experience. She'd seen girls and women do things like this back when she'd lived in her human village. Promenades around the main road. Girls giggling and looking shyly down at the ground. Boys who weren't quite sure of themselves but held their heads a little higher whenever they coaxed a smile from their partner. Nothing technically would have stopped her from doing that much. She kept her ears concealed subtly enough to keep her heritage hidden during a walk. But it felt unfair. To them, of course it would have been. A cruelty to make herself appear open to courtship only to never commit to anything. But perhaps crueler to herself who would never be in a safe enough place to let her heart wander far. There would have been no promenades or marriage arrangements for her in that village, not when it would only put Cordelia in danger of discovery. Human men could be dangerous when they felt slighted…
She looked at Tamlin again. Considering. She'd rarely spent so much time with one specific person before. No one but her mother before she crossed the wall and even now her visits to Thorne and Bloom always seemed to come as part of a larger errand that needed doing. Getting frame replacements for her bee box or getting repairs done to the tools she used regularly. She liked spending time with Tamlin though. She would call him a friend but it felt different than that. Or at least it felt different than she did with Thorne and Bloom. They were her only real point of reference.
She'd been trying to tease him a bit when she saw him drifting as he sat on the stone steps of his home. Bait him into some different reaction or distract him. But it hadn't seemed to work. Part of her had been glad that he'd dismissed her casual compliment. But another part of her was displeased that whatever he was thinking of held more sway over him. It wasn't fair to think that way. Tamlin had lived in this world for centuries any number of things could have happened in his life. Things far more important than her childish flirting. For all she knew he had dismissed it as a courtesy to her. So she wouldn't embarrass herself publicly. Actually, that might have been more embarrassing than if he'd just told her not to say such things. High Lords were not handsome , they were fearsome… and distinguished . The leaders of great lands and and adept in their use of magic. But she couldn't help it, stealing the occasional glance out of the corner of her eye. He was handsome. She might not have intended to say so aloud but he was, and he certainly didn't frighten her anymore. Surely there was nothing wrong with simply making observations like that. Perhaps one could be fearsome only to those who didn't know them. Certainly there had been people who avoided her. Not out of fear that she could do something to harm them, but a fear of the unknown. She made herself scarce and as such she had been unknown to many even by the time she left.
They paused at the edge of town and Cordelia carefully extracted her arm from his, folding her hands behind herself.
“So… how are you feeling?” She asked and made sure to watch him for physical cues that he might try to hide with words. His eyes darted from window to window and then from person to person. A bit frantic at first but then more contemplative.
“There are no high fae here.” He observed and Cordelia looked back at the town. “Yes, I encountered a few high fae shortly after I crossed the wall. They made it clear that a half breed like myself was worth less than the air I wasted by breathing in their presence. So I settled by myself and come here when I need to. They treat me very well here. And I am grateful to them for it every day. I already felt safe after arriving at the cottage but the people here truly helped me feel at home.” A muscle twitched in his jaw at something in her explanation but she could wait to ask about it later. She needed to warn Thorne that Tamlin was here and subtly beg Bloom not to make a big deal out of it. “Will you be okay to wait here for a few minutes? I just need to let my friends at the carpenter know that you’re here.” He visibly tensed at the suggestion but nodded anyway. “I can manage a few minutes by myself.” She hesitated. She didn’t want to just leave him here but she also didn’t like the idea of blindsiding Thorne with this. “Go on, I’ll behave myself.” Tamlin urged her and Cordelia nodded. “Alright, alright. I’ll be right back, wait here. Um, please?” Tamlin nodded and Cordelia hurried down the dusty path toward the shop.
She sprinted the last few feet, nearly slamming the front door open catching Bloom so off guard that she fell out of her chair. Thorne caught the knife his sister had been using to whittle a small trinket and set it back down on the table.
“What’s chasing you?” he asked and Cordelia looked between the siblings as she tried to gather her words.
“High lord-”
“The High lord is chasing you?!” Bloom practically screeched and Cordelia waved her hands, “No no no! He came with me! I took him that coat rack and he wanted to thank you both so I suggested he come with me today. I meant to tell you in advance but I’ve been so busy getting my house ready and I have to get ready to make jam again soon, I-”
“Get your house ready for what?” Thorne asked, leaning against a wall while his sister counted her breath. The question caught Bloom's attention though. And soon so did Cordelia's stayed of dress. She shouldn't have been surprised by that. Her friends were, unfortunately for her, very observant and she normally only bothered with a skirt when she went with them to the nearby temple for an occasional service to the Mother. She was still familiarizing herself with the religion and customs here but Bloom was always nearby on those days to help her. Cordelia shifted on her feet and began to wring her hands. “Don't make it a big thing, Bloom. He's just… joining me for tea after we're done here.” She almost heard Bloom's jaw hit the floor. “Come on, get it together. I had to leave him so I could come let you guys know first.” Bloom stood, so abruptly that she nearly knocked over her chair. Thorne caught it with a hand before returning silently to the workshop.
Cordelia didn't have time to ask about Thorne’s reaction before Bloom had gripped her arm and bolted outside. They were halfway down the street before the door clicked shut behind them. She had to sprint to keep up with Bloom and make sure the floral faerie didn't pull her arm out of socket in her search for the high lord. They stopped at the end of the road and Cordelia couldn't help the slight spike in her heart rate when she realized Tamlin was not waiting where she'd left him.
Tamlin hadn't meant to wander off. He'd actually planned on sticking as close to Cordelia as possible until she'd gone to warn her friends of his arrival. She hadn't said ‘warn’ but he held no illusion that she went to tell them of his presence simply because they disliked surprises. Regardless he'd not initially planned on moving until she got back. But then one of the wheels on a horse-drawn cart had broken and well… he'd been available to hold the cart up while they replaced it. So he did. Quietly and avoiding eye contact with the owner of the cart. They didn't say much either. Either because they were focused on their work or because they recognized him and just wanted their wheel fixed and him gone. He couldn't blame them for either. He lingered by the cart until it was rolling down the road, north toward Autumn.
He should go back to where Cordelia had left him. He'd said he would be there… but the next step her took brought him further into town. And so did the next, and the next and the next. Until he was walking at a steady pace down the road. Wandering through just one of the towns in his court that was working to rebuild itself. While he had been wasting away in the ruins of Rosehall, his people had been out here. They'd pulled themselves up and started working to repair their home. He knew that a few different groups had relocated to other courts. Alis had returned to Summer, a few of his former sentries had gone to work in Summer. And though they were far fewer in number, some of his people had gone to Autumn in their search for viable living conditions.
He was maybe a little confused to find anyone who believed this place could be their home again. And glad for their presence here. Even if they didn't want him, the fact that they were here meant that he hadn't ruined his court forever. That one day his people might enjoy the life he'd wanted for them before the war, before Hybern, before Feyre, before Amarantha… in that window after the destruction of his family and Amarantha's curse. a relatively short window compared to some other High Lords but not an insignificant amount of time either. A dull ache dug further into his chest as he sorted through memories of the years leading up to all this. Winter Solstice gatherings with Lucien, Andreas, Bron, and Hart. Nynsar, Calanmai to welcome the spring among his people. And Summer Solstice. He didn't care much for the religious observances of the holiday, but there had been some joy in opening his home to whoever could make it there. Just to enjoy food and wine and good music. It had killed him to see Rosehall empty. At least when it had been destroyed there had been a reason for people to stay away but now the more progress he made on repairs with Bron and Hart the worse he felt waking up every morning in intense silence and stillness. His friends' presence helped but it was an adjustment… In some ways, it was worse now. He appreciated the help his friends offered but when he'd been completely alone it had been easier to deal with feeling lonely. Now that he had someone around regularly the absence of company was almost unbearable. The feeling was not only exhausting but made him feel like the worst kind of hypocrite. He’d been the one to push everyone away. What right did he have to complain about it now?
He came to a stop near the center of town, looking down the dark shaft of a stone well. The sides had started to crumble but the steel bucket looked new and there was a matching ladle attached to the handle with a bit of twine. Either the town didn’t have running water or the well was used by folks just walking by for a sip of water. A hand landed on the back of his arm and despite the fact that he knew it was Cordelia, he still flinched.
“Hey, I thought I was going to meet you by the edge of town?” She spoke quietly like she was scared he might bolt. It wasn’t an impossibility.
“Sorry, I got distracted. Did you find your friend?” Cordelia looked him over skeptically but nodded and gestured for her friend to approach. “Tamlin, this is my friend Bloom. She’s a-”
“Flower faerie. Zinnias are the most common comparison. My brother, he’s like a tree-looking faerie. Technically he’s my stepbrother but we were raised like just regular siblings. He made the piece Cordelia brought you the other day.” Words tumbled from Bloom like river water. More like she couldn’t stop them than a desire to share. She extended her hand to him, “I-it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He couldn’t help a quick glance at Cordelia but she had taken to looking down the street while her friend spoke to him. It should probably have occurred to him sooner that she had been talking about her encounters with him to her friends. He doubted they would have sent something with her to bring to Rosehall otherwise. Tamlin shook Bloom’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you as well. I wish I could say the same but I’m sure you know better than I do that Cordelia’s a fairly private person.” Bloom abruptly clasped her hands together. If he didn’t know better he might think the girl was starstruck. Unfortunately, he did know better. Bloom was likely being polite in front of her friend. “Delia says she’s been to Rosehall a few times. I’ve never been. It was always my mother and brother going there for tithe or celebrations. I was a little young yet so I stayed back to help father and grandfather.” Very young then or else she’d had an overly protective family. “Well, perhaps when repairs are finished there will be an opportunity for you to see it yourself. If that sounds agreeable to you.” Bloom nodded, “Yes. Yes, very agreeable. I- oh, I should get back to the shop but don’t be a stranger.” She smiled at him and Tamlin looked back at the well as she stepped off to the side with Cordelia.
Their conversation didn’t last long and soon Bloom was running back down the road to the carpenter shop he’d passed. Shit. He was supposed to thank her. He turned and nearly walked right into Cordelia.
“Whoah, at least get me a drink first.” She laughed to herself as she took a step back to give him some space again.
“Sorry, I came to thank her and completely forgot to,” he explained but Cordelia waved a hand. “It’s alright. Maybe next time.” She started walking back from the direction they’d come from and he hurried to keep pace with her. “You want to leave already?” he asked and Cordelia shrugged, “I don’t spend a lot of time in town and this is probably pretty overwhelming for you. Besides, I think I may have left my window open and I want to make sure there aren’t any birds caught inside.” She brushed her hands over her hair, looked around, and tugged Tamlin to the side to let another supply cart pass. “Do you have that problem a lot?” he asked and she laughed again. “You’d be surprised.” They continued back to the edge of town but Cordelia paused for a moment, looking over her shoulder with a slight frown. Tamlin turned his head to scan their surroundings as well, “Is everything okay?” Cordelia nodded, a slight smile returning to her face, “Yeah, I just thought I heard something. Probably just one of the shops.” She started walking again and Tamlin followed, even if just so that she wouldn’t be walking through the woods alone.
Chapter Text
“Careful, step high,” Tamlin warned, and Cordelia lifted her skirt a few inches as she stepped over a patch of bramble that had been dragged over her usual path home. He held onto her hand to ensure she wouldn't fall.
“Gods, you'd think there would be less damage considering I only left this morning.” She remarked, giving his hand a grateful squeeze. “So… I just kind of assumed back there. How are you really feeling about things?” He was silent for a moment, and for just as long she worried that it had been a mistake to bring it up. But he did eventually answer. “It was… good that I went, I think. It still doesn't quite feel real that people still want to be here. I don't think they want me around, but I can hardly blame them for that.” She sighed, a bit relieved. “Well, good. I mean, it's not good that you got the impression they don't want you around, but I'm glad you got something out of it.” He tilted his head to the side, “It was more than just an impression, Cordelia. Estranged as I am from the public, I am not completely unaware of social cues.” “It's not that they don't want you. They just don't know this version of you. Things have been so unstable, they aren't sure what to make of it. It'll get better, I promise.” She tried to insist, and while he indulged her with a small nod, she could tell that he didn’t really believe it. She couldn’t exactly blame him. She hadn’t been here before the war. Reassurances from someone so new to the court probably rang fairly hollow.
He angled his head like he was listening to something, and she glanced around.
“What? Is something-” she stopped talking when she heard a pained yowl. Tamlin made like he might push her behind him, but she shot forward in the direction of the sound. She recognized that sound.
“Cordelia!” Tamlin jumped after her, and she careened around a bunch of bushes. She stumbled through a patch of weeds before sliding to her knees in front of the cat from her window. “Hey, hey… It's okay, buddy. Let's get you out of here…” she examined the snare he'd gotten stuck in. She'd never wished that she were a hunter before, but at least if she were, she'd know which line to cut. “Gods… what kind of snare needs barbs like this..?” She muttered, and Tamlin knelt down next to her. “It looks like an old suriel snare, the chicken bones must have caught his attention.” She looked over at him, “Well, how do we get it down? Get him out?” He looked around the snare and instructed her, “Hold onto him, we don’t want him to run off before we can patch him up.” Cordelia nodded, doing her best to find a way to hold onto the cat without hurting him further. When she looked back at Tamlin, he was cutting through the barbs and cords, one at a time. At first, she thought he’d taken out a dagger, but the longer she looked, the clearer it became that it wasn’t a dagger but a claw connected directly to his hand. Each snap was followed by a loosening in the snare until eventually it went completely slack, and Cordelia was able to pull the poor cat free. Tamlin picked up the scraps of the snare and pulled Cordelia to her feet as she cradled the cat in her arms. She hurried back to the path they’d come from, “We’re not far, come on.”
She ran down the familiar trail, Tamlin following her closely. She could feel weeds and plants catching on her shoes, but she pushed through until they'd reached the door, kicking it shut once Tamlin made it inside as well. Thank goodness she'd left her table clear before she left. He hesitantly passed the cat to her companion and brought over her pack of medical supplies. She paced slightly in front of the table as the High Lord of Spring tended to the patchy stray, only pausing when he'd wrapped up the poor thing's leg. She sat down and brushed her fingers against the cat's small forehead.
“He should be okay by tomorrow morning,” Tamlin said, and she nodded quietly.
“It must be so scary to get hurt when you're a cat. The world is already so big and scary, to just get caught in a trap like that and not be able to get free or help yourself…” She carried the cat over to her bed, letting him rest on something comfortable. She returned to the table and carefully cleaned it. “Sorry, that's not exactly how I planned on welcoming you inside. The sink is right there, you can wash your hands, and we can eat something.” She listened to the water run as she watched over the cat. He seemed tired, taking long, heavy breaths as he rested. “You should wash your hands too,” Tamlin said, and Cordelia nodded to herself. She took his place at the sink as he dried his hands. “You shouldn’t run blindly into the woods like that. You could get hurt.” He spoke again, and this time she tilted her head to the side to look at him. She hadn’t meant to run off the path without warning like that but she’d been worried about the cat. He wasn’t hers, but he spent enough time lurking around her cottage recently that she felt some responsibility for him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” She apologized, and Tamlin offered an unconvincing smile. “Well, if nothing else, it certainly got my mind off the town.” Cordelia couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I’m glad you’re able to find silver linings now. I promise the rest of your visit will be quite normal. Snacks and some light reading.” He handed her the hand towel and she smiled up at him as she dried her hands.
“Is this whole book morbid?” Tamlin interrupted Cordelia’s reading to ask. Their basket of snacks was mostly forgotten as they lounged on a blanket out by her garden.
“It’s not that morbid.” She tried, twisting her head to look at him. It was odd to feel so relaxed. At first, they’d been trying to read at the same time, but eventually Cordelia had gotten so annoyed about his slower reading speed that she’d pulled the book into her lap and insisted on reading it aloud. Then at some point, they’d gone from sitting near each other to whatever this was. Him on his back, staring at the sky, while she leaned back perpendicular to him, resting her head on his torso as she read from her book. He didn’t want to move. It felt like if he did, he’d suddenly wake up alone in the ruins of his manor again, stuck in the form of a beast while thorns grew up around the doors and windows, threatening to seal him inside forever. It was what he deserved, wasn’t it? To fade away and let the lands choose a new host to heal what had broken under him? It wouldn't be that bad if this were all a dream… what a nice last dream it would be to see some old friends and meet someone new… it was a better send-off than he could give himself anyway.
He sighed,
“If hiding an old man’s body under the floorboards of his own house doesn’t meet your standard for morbidity, I hesitate to consider what might.” She laughed again and turned the page she’d just finished, yawning into the back of her hand. He blinked down at her. He supposed it was getting late now. Maybe she was trying to signal he should go? He could ask, but what if she said yes? Bron and Hart weren't bad company by any means, but he just wanted to stay a little longer… Would it be better or worse if he asked and she said no ? It was a nice thought. That she might look past all the self-pity and loathing and actually want him to stay. He was certainly very fond of her so far, it would be nice to hear the sentiment returned to some extent. But it also felt a bit cruel to inflict himself on someone new. At least Bron and Hart knew what they were getting into. Cordelia was just trying to make a life for herself. It wasn't fair of him to interrupt it like he had.
“I can hear you overthinking,” Cordelia spoke, and the sound of someone else's voice was so jarring it knocked him out of his own head. When he looked down at her again, she'd closed the book and tipped her head back to look at his face. “Can I ask you something?” he started, and when she didn’t object, he continued. “I know I asked you to come back and talk to me, but why did you?” She brushed her fingers against the spine of her book as she considered. “Technically, you didn’t ask me to come back. I mean, in your note you did, but when we actually spoke, you said you wanted to thank me for stopping to talk to you, even if it only happened once…” She turned her head to look up at the sky. “And then there was the first thing you said. That my notes had been the most anyone had bothered to communicate with you, other than some emissary from the Night Court. All that, combined with my own experience in the human lands, feeling so isolated from the people around me, it just bothered me that someone was suffering alone so close to where I’d made my new home.” She let out a soft sigh, “It’s not that I can’t tolerate living alone, but I don’t dislike company, and it was obvious that not having any was hurting you. So here we are.” Tamlin nodded slowly. It was a kinder answer than he expected. Not that he’d expected Cordelia to be cruel, but he was always a little unnerved when kindness was extended in his direction these days.
She sat up and stretched her arms out in front of herself. When she stood, Tamlin sat up as well. She offered him a hand up, which he reluctantly accepted before helping her clean up. She tucked the book under her arm, and Tamlin carried the blanket back inside while she dealt with their dishes and leftovers. He lingered by the door. He knew he should go before the sun started to set, but he didn’t feel so bad when he was with her. One could hardly blame him for not wanting to put an end to that. Cordelia checked on the cat again before walking over to see him out the door.
“Thanks for spending so long with me today. You didn’t have to, but it was nice,” she said as she yawned once more.
“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he insisted, and when she smiled, he could see the exhaustion starting to tug at her. “Hmm… if you insist. I meant what I said this morning.” She tugged her hair free of its braid as she spoke, and Tamlin raised an eyebrow. “Which part?” he asked. She’d said quite a bit since she first arrived at the manor that morning. Her eyes swept over his face, and a softer expression crossed her own. “... never mind. Goodnight, Tamlin.” She let the door click quietly shut behind her, leaving Tamlin alone on her front step. Part of him wanted to knock and ask her again to clarify, but he shook it off and looked at the door frame. He didn’t want to damage anything, but… her cottage was too far from the manor for any ward he made there to be extended to her. He could leave a small one here, though. Carefully and quietly as he could, he carved the marks into a spot in the door frame hidden from plain sight by some plants. A small protection for his new… friend. Then he turned and hurried back toward the path to the manor. Best to be on his way before Bron and Hart started making guesses about why he was getting back so late.