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Tamlin knew someone had entered the old manor. 

He knew when anyone stepped foot into spring. He had not lost that ability despite what others had thought. He knew when the eldest Vanserra entered his grounds, bringing the Witch and the Night Court General. Yet what did it matter? 

He prowled through the forest, still shifted. The bright leaves had grown dark in their shade of green, the grass and the weeds growing wild. The sun barely shone through anymore. His eyes had long adjusted to it, making it harder to leave the forest where he roamed in the noon of day. 

Why he went to the manor to investigate the trespasser, Tamlin didn’t know. He winced as the trees thinned, light getting brighter the farther out he went. It was almost blinding when he reached the field. With a shake of his head, he focused his gaze to the ruins of his home. He approached, admiring the force that was the Mother herself, the way the vines covered the manor walls and windows. His mother’s rose garden had spread over its enclosure through the cracks of the stone paths. He stopped before the manor, his home, now a tomb waiting for him when he was ready to die. 

It’s funny how he wished he’d died long ago and yet- 

A breeze blew, gentle unlike the storm welling inside him. The door creaked where it had been left open. Anger welling in him, his paws echoed on the cracked stone steps and as he entered the manor. He caught the smell of something citrus and sweet amongst the rot and musk. He followed it, lumbering up vine covered stairs to the second floor. He let out a growl as he wandered the hall. The fae was close by, had to be. 

Another open door when he turned down the hall. He stepped lightly over the broken glass from the frames that used to line the hall. It didn’t matter if he cut himself. Why was he even here? But he reached the door, nudging it open further. He planned to roar to startle the fae who dared trespass. Instead the fae startled him. 

This room was a courtier’s. The furniture was covered in dust and vines. The double doors at the end of the  were open, leading out to the small balcony. He crept forward. A female stood on the balcony, looking out to the gardens below. The sun shone bright against her blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders, gently rustled by the breeze. Then she turned. She twirled a rose in her hand, blood red like the dress she wore. It was Autumn fashion, too heavy for the warm Spring air. He knew exactly who she was. Tamlin snarled when her light eyes connected with his own. 

“Lord Tamlin,” she curtsied in the doorway. 

“Get out.” 

His hoarse voice sounded weaker than he intended. She stilled, gripping the rose tight in her hand, the smell of blood instant in the air. This girl was a fool. 

“Get. Out.” 

“Lord Tamlin, respectfully no.”

She showed no sign of fear. He roared and while she flinched, she didn’t move or winnow away. 

“What is wrong with you girl?” He growled. “Do you wish to meet death?” 

“I wish to come home,” she said softly. “Lord Tamlin, I cannot stay in that rotten court any longer. The villages are gone. I had hoped the manor was untouched but-“

“You will not find a home here.” His claws clanked against the wooden floor while he crept closer. “Leave.”

“Lord Tamlin.”

He tilted his head, some of the matted fur in his mane pulling taunt. 

“Leave.” He commanded. 

She fought it. She closed her eyes and squeezed the rose stem again, blood running down her wrist. The flower brightened, her magic seeping into it. 

“I am not the only one who wants to come home.” She said it with pain in her voice. “Please, Lord Tamlin. Let us come home.”

“And who, Lady Flora, is foolish enough to want to return to this ruin?” She opened her eyes in shock. Was she shocked he remembered her name? “If it is your things you need, get them. Do not come back.” 

He turned to leave. He did not think he had any pride left to be wounded. Yet he felt it. 

“My family,” she called out. He stopped but didn’t turn. “My family and others. My father and several others in Autumn have talked. To offer aid to rebuild if we can return.” 

“Do they think they will gain my favor?” He turned and growled. “Do they think I will offer them riches? They are fools.” 

There was pain in her eyes. She stepped towards him, flowers blooming under her feet as she walked. She stopped in front of him, shoulders squared. 

“This is my home. My court. I do not care if it is you or the next High Lord of Spring that allows me entry. I will come home.” 

“You threaten me, girl?”

She had the audacity to shrug. “What is a threat to a beast? You would have killed me by now if you wanted.” He snarled again, his pride wounded further. She continued with a slight smirk, “you forgot how stubborn I am, Lord Tamlin.”

She stepped close. Too close. He should have left. He should have used his power to force her out. Instead he stood still. She reached out with the rose and he didn’t move as she tucked it in his mane, near his horns. When was the last time anyone had touched him? 

“I will be back with my father in three days time whether you’re here or not. You can be the beast in the woods or the High Lord that welcomes his court back home. That is your choice to make.” 

She winnowed away leaving a smell of citrus, floral, and iron in the air. He shifted into his fae form, the rose falling to the ground. He did not feel ready to greet his court but maybe, he thought as he picked the rose up, maybe he didn’t have to be.