In the end, Autumn and Spring had ended the war as allies, and they may yet be still, but that doesn’t mean Arya is forgiven, or that she’d be welcome back into her sister’s court. Betrayal is a knife you didn’t see coming, wielding by a hand you never imagined. It is a blow that leaves you reeling, unable to catch your breath. When Arya had left the Autumn Court, it was not a conscious decision. It was instinct and fire and a fever dream all at one. Fear had gripped her heart in a vice when she saw the High Lord of Spring attacked by her own, and fury had propelled her forward, the decision made before she was even by his side. It wasn’t a matter of betrayal for Arya – the word never crossed her mind. It was survival. It was protecting that which was most precious and sacred. And so she’d made her decision, wielding spells and talwar and flame against those who might’ve once followed her into battle.
Only when it was done and the battlefield was behind her did the fever haze of battle break and leave her gasping for air. She was so used to burning hot that when the truth of what she’d done crept over her, she felt like they’d entered the Winter Court rather than Spring. The cold realization that home was irrevocably lost to her. Even now, with the previous war behind them and a new one on the horizon, she senses that she would not be welcomed back. That as much as she was a lady of Spring, she was no longer a lady of Autumn, despite feeling in her bones, and hands, that she’d always be part of her family’s court. Autumn flows through her veins like hot molten lava, that presently, sitting across from her eldest sister, the new High Lady of Autumn, wage war against the gloves she wears. Gloves given to her from their High Priestess when she was a little girl and her touch brought ruin when she lost her temper, or felt anything too strongly. Which was always.
She battles such strong feelings even now, wanting to reach across and wrap her sister in a hug and wanting to run from the room entirely and set fire to the beautiful gardens that bloom under Kamelya’s watchful eye and skilled hands. Arya waits for Soli to speak, the familiar timber of her voice bringing warmth to the seemingly chilled out room. Perhaps, for the first time, two daughters of Autumn have left a place cooler than when they found it. Her mate is predisposed with reenforcing their walls and commanding their generals and armies to be prepared. Besides, the decision was already made between them that she would visit the land of the Mortals with her sister and his.
“Enough that we need them on our side. They will be essential in keeping conflict from overflowing in the mortal realms.” Straight to business. It makes sense that Soli would want to get this over with, but it doesn’t make Arya feel anymore settled. “They will need a vanguard in place if it does.” Fine. They can both be cordial. No hello needed. No reunion. It seems broken bridges remain so.
The war had started with betrayals, with Soliana finding herself on opposite ends of the battlefield as some of her lifelong friends. The knives sliding between her ribs only grew more frequent as the war went on, and as more courts joined the side of the mortals. She'd thought once the Winter and Night Courts had abandoned Autumn it would be the last of the blades in her back. She'd thought that even if a few more swords managed to slip past her guard that she'd be able to handle them easily now that she wore betrayal like a second skin. But nothing could have prepared her for her sister's mating bond and the choices that had come after it. It was one thing to be left by those who you'd met along the line of your life, and entirely another to be abandoned by your very blood- by a sister who had never been anything but Soliana's.
The High Lady could feel the familiar and telltale signs of her spinning emotions manifesting in the heat of her fingertips. There was not yet any flames, but as she lifted a hand from the table black and charred fingerprints were left in her wake. She deftly slid some maps over the evidence, making sure Arya wouldn't see them. Soliana wasn't sure what reaction she'd been expecting from Arya, and perhaps she'd been hoping her distant attitude and greeting would grant her sister a pinprick of the pain Soliana had been dealt. Instead Arya went along with the charade Soliana had begun, and that only stoked the fire in her gut further. In truth, there was likely no reaction that would have been a good one. Not when they had fallen this far.
So with the same air of indifference, Soliana pulled over one of the maps of the mortal lands. "If you can mark where the bulk of them are currently stationed, we can begin dispersing more fae among their units along with diplomatic envoys and the like." Hopefully a vanguard wouldn't be needed, but it was always best to have multiple backup plans. "We can assemble a possible vanguard for if the need arises."
there's a split second that he believes she's going to leave, he wouldn't blame her, not really. if it were any of the other courts involved so publicly, he'd be more than a fair bit wary of their high lord or lady as well. always putting himself ; his court first, yet & possibly against his best interests ; he'd stopped to foolishly assist a life that may already be too far gone.
the suggestion's reckless --- neither of them should endanger themselves with entire courts relying on them, if nothing else for peace, so fragile & already tattered. still, he can't smother the flicker of something akin to hope that maybe if nothing else, they can help this fae survive when so many didn't. " it'd give them a fighting chance. " he confirms, watching as she joins him.
it's hard not to laugh, the ghost of an appreciative smile on malakai's lips. the high lady's method was effective nonetheless, he could practically hear the spring fae's pulse grow steadier as if to prove a point even now. so used to softly uttered words, assurance that they were always in the best care possible, it was a stark contrast. " your methods are a tad unorthodox for what i'm used to. "
malakai moves precisely, shifting the injured to sit up against his side as his other hand presses against the makeshift compress he'd made. " should they survive because of it, i'll have to implement it more often. "
His confirmation was enough for Soliana to grant him a curt nod, that of a soldier taking on the latest mission. There were no more hesitations when she moved to lift the fae as gently as she could from Malakai's side, being careful not to disturb the compress the other High Lord was fastidiously holding in place. Soliana had made her decision to help, and she would no longer dwell on whether or not it would be a ruinous one. There was no time for further deliberation when action was needed.
Unexpected— her own specter-like smile flit across her lips, an imprint of the life that had previously made a home on them when betrayal had been a sting not yet known and hope had been as free as breathing. Some might say there were times for jest and times for strictly solemn air, but if death did not distinguish between sinner and saint then surely it would not separate a chuckle or a sob. On the battlefield she'd learned to take pleasure where she could.
"No? Perhaps if they survive I'll teach you this particular healing practice. I'm surprised a healer of your stature hasn't learned it yet." It was somewhat laughable to think of two High Lord or Ladies being casual enough to teach one another such trivial matters, even if she meant the words as a tease— but she'd yet to fully adapt the haughty nature of a court ruler. No doubt she never would have said such words to him over a shared and formal meeting table, but while they were ensconced in the empty tunnel and covered in blood that didn't only belong to them...it didn't seem nearly so risky a quip.
Just as quickly as the flicker of a playful nature appeared it vanished, and a flinty determination replaced it while Soliana took care with the fae in her arms. "Is there a healer station set up somewhere? Or did you plan on taking them somewhere else?"
The arrival of a mortal named Tristan in the Autumn Court had not gone unnoticed by Soliana, but she had been keen deep in war maps and troop formations when he'd first appeared. It meant that she'd only seen him from afar for a few fleeting moments, her sharp gaze instantly landing on the strange and smoothed curve of his ears. The High Lady had only seen a handful of mortals before the bard had decided to make his home amongst them, and she was a naturally curious being.
Her curiosity was not the reason for today's visit, and she'd sent notice that she would be arriving at his dwellings ahead of her departure. Perhaps it was uncouth for a High Lady to travel for her appointments, but she had no desire to hold her meetings in what had previously been her father's office. Not when the room was stained with the stench of every hateful memory of the man. Her guards shifted behind her while she raised a hand to knock on Tristan's door, and she stopped herself from glancing over her shoulder. Their near constant presence was another thing she wasn't used to— not when she'd been utterly expendable before her anointing.
Finally the door swung open, and she forced herself not to let her gaze flicker once more to those peculiar ears. Instead she offered a polite nod along with the very beginnings of a smile, already trying to set the man at ease. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Tristan."
the high lord had been in & out of battle since the queen fell, a flurry of fighting, securing those in his court that he could still trust. while he endeavored to stay neutral, his hand was ultimately forced, he could not sit by idly & let his people fall. everything he’d done had been for them, that was the mantra he held so dear ; the power he’d become so hungry for was to protect.
& yet, for someone who claims to be so indifferent to any cause, he’s crouched next to a spring fae, arduously attempting to save their life with such humble means. he doesn’t stop until it’s clear he’s powerless against the fates without his usual methods.
the weight of the gaze is all too familiar, he can remember a time long ago, when they were both much younger ; catching prying eye so curious about his healing. malakai had been a different person then, so full of light & life, a shinning beacon in the dreariness. with the years, he’s been altered, forced to make choices he’d never once have dreamed of. a product of his environment, a legacy to follow & protect ; at least, it’s what he’d pretend when a creeping wave of dread & guilt twisted in his stomach. to be neutral meant standing by whether he agreed with either side ; but it kept those in his court safe.
at least, it had up until they turned on their own, driven but by what or who ? it’d plague him in the future, for now he didn’t have the time to dwell. malakai’s head raises from where he's knelt, “ there is nothing more to do, it’s a battle of their will now. “ hushed words, almost as if an uttered prayer for their life.
“ they may have a better chance if we could move them but the compress i have over their wound is fragile. “ the corridor had seen it's fair share of battles & malakai's sure the momentary peace won't last much longer before the beasts catch their scents again.
Soliana would have liked to say she dove into action without thought as Malakai imparted his patient's status. But the truth was that there was a flicker of hesitation in her hands while they asked if she was truly willing to trust the High Lord of the betrayers so readily— even if the trust was as temporary as the fleeting peace that had followed the war. It lasted no longer than the blink of an eye before she lowered her katars into their sheathes along her hips and took the last few steps towards Malakai. In truth, she couldn't explain the decision, but inaction was what got fae killed, and she would not stand still at a time such as this. Or perhaps it was the hint of desperation in his voice, a rare quality in any male let alone a High Lord. His near prayer might have fallen past the gods' deaf ears, but she would not be so callous.
"And if I carried them while you kept the compress there? Would that help?" She held no fondness for the Spring Court. On the contrary the High Lady had been rather soured towards spring ever since her sister had left autumn for the mate that awaited her there. But this fae had no part in that.
As for will...she'd seen plenty of soldiers lives hanging in the balance during her own combat career, and she'd found that nothing motivated them to stay alive more than sheer spite. It was this that had her kneeling near the injured fae, adding a gentle bite to her words when she spoke to them. "Is this how the Spring Court's finest give up? I've seen Autumn soldiers get up from much worse." It might have seemed the opposite of what was considered appropriate in such a situation, but she'd happily set aside convention for what she knew to be effective.
It made perfect sense for the Spring Court to assist the mortals with the rebuilding of their forces and fortitude. After all, they shared a border with the mortal lands, and they had been allies for the entirety of the war that had been fought on their behalf. But for the Autumn Court to be involved in such dealings? At first it had seemed an asisnine thought to Soliana. Her father and her court had been the most stubborn when it came to opposing the mortals having been the only army to see the war to its end on the side of the loyalists. But the more she thought on the mission...the more it made sense. She was fresh from the post of General, and she and Arya had been working as a combat unit for longer than any living mortal had drawn breath. But that had been before Soliana's younger sister had committed betrayal on the battlefield, before the High Lady of Autumn had been forced to come to terms with the fact that her beloved sister was not considered an enemy of the court they'd shared.
Soliana was determined to keep this meeting as brief and focused as possible, seeing no reason to bring personal matters into such things. She didn't have time to mend the relationship her sister had seen fit to sever, not when that same sister had decided to break it within the span of a few blinks. Or that's what she told herself while she waited in the Spring Court's manor for Arya to appear.
Finally her gently pointed ears pricked at the sound of her sister's approach, and Soliana took a few last seconds to steel her jaw and shoulders. As the face she'd known since its birth came into focus she ignored the pangs of emotion trying to gain access to her heart, speaking with a formality that had no place between sisters. "Shall we start with the bare numbers? How many soldiers do the mortals have after the war?" she asked before settling in front of the map laid out on the nearby table. They were the first words to be shared between them ever since she'd wished her sister luck and safety on their last battlefield.
Soliana had never been trained as her father's heir, hadn't been given the centuries of preparation most the other high lords had learned at the hands of their own fathers and mothers. It was part of the reason she'd taken to watching the High Lord of Dawn as closely as she had, curious to see the male who had remained neutral during the contentious war in action. Perhaps if she hadn't been glancing at him when she should have been watching the queens she would have recognized the crown that topped the brows of the mortal rulers, the golden prongs of it matching a description she'd found hidden in her father's notes concerning the dread trove. But any thoughts of distraction evaporated the moment a slew of monstrous fae made their bid on her life, and her battle-seasoned body took over for her mind.
The High Lady of the Autumn Court wasn't certain how long she'd been fighting when she turned a hasty corner, coming to a violent pause when met with a more solemn scene than the one she'd just left. Another High Lord bent before the bloody and broken body of a fae who looked to be a member of the Spring Court. She recognized the way his hands moved while they worked, remembering what they'd looked like all those years ago as he'd healed fae beneath the jeweled trees of her court when she'd spied on him. It was his soldiers that had turned and joined the battle against the other courts...yet he was helping one of the fae that had opposed them.
She didn't know if it was pride, a foolhardy decision, or a piece of her that didn't quite believe the neutral lord would give way to such violence that had her striding towards Malakai and his patient, but she told herself it was because she was certain she'd win in a fight if it came to one. A quick examination told her that he didn't have any more access to his abilities than she did, but her hand stayed clenched on her katar nevertheless. "What can I do?" Soliana asked with little hesitation or introduction while her chin nodded towards the fae on the ground.
✧ ˚ · . the continent welcomes soliana valiathan of the autumn court, the high lady of the autumn court. when the high fae is glamoured, she bears a resemblance to priyanka chopra. the 33 / 558 year old cis woman is reputed to be courageous and fair - minded, but a decade of war has left them hotheaded and cynical. if created by the cauldron, they would be made in the likeness of a shining red apple that fills the mouth with worms upon taking the first bite, the burn scars of a forest fire as they begin to heal, quick lips and faster hands. whispers throughout prythian claim that their allegiance lies with the autumn court, where they conspire to continue to rebuild her court. ( penned by olivia , graphic psd . )
B A S I C S:
NAME : soliana valiathan .
NICKNAMES : soli .
POSITION : high lady of the autumn court , former commander and general of the autumn court armies .
AGE : 33 / 558 .
PRONOUNS : she/her .
HEIGHT : 5′ 3″.
ORIENTATION : pansexual/panromantic .
BIRTHPLACE : the forest house , autumn court .
STATUS : unmated??? she doesn't want a mate as she fears it would weaken her stance as high lady. the thought of a mate also scares her simply because letting someone into the depths of her heart and soul sounds...terrifying. (potential connection) .
ABILITIES : fire manipulation , winnowing , glamouring , high lady beast form , military and soldier prowess .
PRIMARY WEAPONS : dual wielded katars . ( image )
F A M I L Y:
adranus valiathan → father (deceased) → former high lord of the autumn court .
Being first born to a high lord could have been a saving grace from a father who was more destructive than the flames he wielded, but the moment the first child of the Autumn Court was declared a girl— Soliana's father called her fodder before daughter. The former high lord was as traditional as he was loyalist, and he knew in the very depths of his shadowed soul that a daughter would never rise to rule the Autumn Court. So he continued to sire children, always trying for the son that he was certain would be his heir...always disappointed when he bore nothing but daughters. Instead of treasured heir she would become another body in her father's battles, one that was raised to thank her enemies for the scars they left and return them upon their own skins tenfold with blades that moved as a blur and fire that burned bright enough to blind.
While she was raised in a warrior's image she would always be denied her truest strength. Soliana's power grew just as a true heir's would from the day they first appeared. They were dismissed by her father and his court, chalked up to nothing but her impressively powerful pedigree. While he denied her burgeoning abilities to Soliana and the public he became increasingly paranoid behind closed doors as his daughter's fire grew to rival his. It was a reminder that he would not be high lord forever, that a stronger one would come to steal his place no matter how hard he tried to defy mortality. More than once the thought of killing his daughter before she surpassed him crossed his mind, but with every sun that rose and set he found more creative leashes and cruelties to ensure that no such thing would ever come to pass.
Soliana had been gifted fire, strength, and speed, but her most surprising ability came in the form of commanding. The proudest day of her life wasn't the one that raised her to high lady through some barely understood grace of the cauldron, but the evening she was named general to all her father's armies. And yet her greatest pride was fringed with doubt the moment her father waged war against the mortals along with Hybern and his armies. Soliana had gotten by easily enough by focusing on her soldiers and the lives she was responsible for keeping alive even if the battles were not her own.
But war amongst courts, kings, and queens were something of an entirely different nature. Pride told her that she would win against any who dared raise a sword against her court, but logic made her wonder what the price would be for such transgressions. Mortals held no special place in her heart, and despite her father's evil she was staunchly loyal to the court that had harbored her on the rare occasions she managed to escape his wrath. She would never speak her doubts aloud, but she could not find a way to starve the voice of dread that whispered there were too many who would not see the end of this war.
That instinctive voice was proven right while she stood on the last battlefield, bloodied and smeared with the grime of war. She watched while her father's life was snuffed out like a forgotten candle. Her father's lifelong denial had left him without a favored heir so while the light fled her sire's dying eyes even Soliana did not know where it would land— where the mantle of the Autumn Court might settle. The general got her answer when her limbs flared with a power of the likes she'd never felt before despite her already renowned abilities. She'd been ready to pledge herself to another, to continue the fight as the Autumn Court's general for as long as she was bid to do so and her eyes widened as her fire kindled. A pillar of dancing, prismatic flames rose unbidden from her spot on the field, marking the new high lady for all her battered court to witness while shock dulled her senses.
It was something she'd never anticipated, and she was left sorely underprepared after a lifetime of being pushed aside. But when she stood in the center of the neutralized territory the very next day she realized the battle was no longer her father's. Overnight it had become her own, and the lives she loved and cherished were even closer to resting in the palms of her hands than they'd ever been before. So when the other lords demanded surrender...she gave it to them. She told herself that it was the only way to save the remainders of the Autumn Court while their armies lay in ribbons much to the anger and resentment of her pride.
Soliana now heads a court that is still recuperating from their losses as well as one who is divided on whether she is worthy of being high lady. The Autumn Court has long clung to the loyalist values of old, and those beliefs include standing behind the virtue that high lords should be just that. Lords. Nevertheless there are others that are eager for the changes Soliana is striving to bring, and those that are willing to follow her into the cleansing fire of a new era.
T L D R ;
never thought of as heir despite her showing powers that would tell of a blossoming high lady because of her father's traditionalist views.
was the general of the autumn court's armies before and during the recent war. had to leave the position when she became high lady
wasn't necessarily ANTI mortal or anything like that- just wanted to keep her soldiers alive and the Autumn Court safe.
just as surprised as everyone else when she became high lady...oops.
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