Man or beast, I would love him with all my heart. Thorns and all.
AU where Tamlin, unwilling to deal with his brothers' power struggle for the High Lord title after their father's death goes FUCK NO, and le
SO, it's official! I'm going to start writing my fic 'A ballad of beasts' !!!
I want to thank everyone who reblogged/ replied to my initial post encouraging me! This fic only exists because of you amazing people!
I've got the plot pretty much figured out, so now I just have to hope that the writing gods don't abandon me while I write this 🙏🏼 Will be posting this to Ao3 as well as updating here!
(The first chapter is still nowhere near fully finished, but here's a little sneak peek!
p.s. I've changed a few minor things about the plot, which you will see below!)
{chapter one snippet}
“Tamlin! Little brother! Happy name day!”
Tamlin stiffened, his fingers tightening around his glass. Ignoring him hadn't worked, as his brother's voice continued to call out. He tossed it back, hissing at the burn. Gwaine’s arm swung roughly around his shoulder, nearly knocking him off of his feet. To any passers by, they would appear like two brothers having a friendly altercation.
“Gwaine,” he gritted out.
“Are you enjoying the festivities, dear brother?”
“Not as well as you appear to be.”
His breath reeked of sour cherries and barley. Evidently, he’d already been sampling the wide variety of spiced drinks and spirits on offer at the banquet.
His eldest brother’s laugh sent a nauseating cloud of stench towards his nose.
“Oh, why so glum, little bum? You turn five hundred today, that’s almost a male grown!”
He did not deign to dignify that with an answer. Gwaine didn’t seem to mind, already setting to fill the silence with his loud, brash tones.
“Finni! Come join us, you bastard!”
Tamlin swore under his breath. One brother was already a curse, a second was a damned plague.
“Tamlin.”
“Finnian,” Tamlin answered resignedly.
“Finni! I was just telling Tamlin here that he ought not to be so glum! Not when father has such a wonderful surprise waiting!”
Tamlin glanced over sharply. “Father has a surprise?”
That was laughable in and of itself for a multitude of reasons. The High Lord of Spring was decidedly not notorious for his spontaneous name day surprises.
Finnian merely smirked.
“Oh, I won’t spoil it for you, it’s rather good,” Gwaine said, miming stitching his mouth shut.
Tamlin sighed, “Wonderful. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll-”
“Aht aht aht! Not so quick, little Tam,” he chastised, darting out an arm to keep him from skulking away.
“The fun has barely begun!”
Gwaine spun him around just as the doors to the great hall blew open, and a fanfare proclaimed to Tamlin’s great dismay,
“General Amarantha Casimir of Hybern!”
“Father’s esteemed guest,” Gwaine said gleefully.
She entered the hall with a retinue of attendants; young girls dressed in robes white as a swan’s wing, each carrying a corner of her gown’s train. Thousands of bejewelled strings had been woven together in imitation of a spider’s web, and the fabric flowed down to the marble floors, the little gems hissing with each of her long strides. The low cut gown was underlaid with a diaphanous black silk, for what little it did to hide her sensuous figure. She ascended the dais, bowing to the High Lord and Lady of Spring.
Tamlin turned away.
Finnian smirked, “I am sure tonight will be very… eventful.”
“Yes, most definitely a night to remember.”
Tamlin glared at his brothers, irritated, “What in Prythian are you two on about? What do you mean?”
“Well, you shall see soon enough,” Gwaine gave Tamlin’s chest two solid pats before sidling off with a cackle; as Tamlin predicted, towards the banquet table. Between the two of them, his brothers would empty the casks and barrels before the night was through.
He was about to walk away when Finnian leaned in close, murmuring in his ear.
“I wonder, brother. What would it be like to bed a female like that? Would you fuck her from behind? Or would she bend you over and mate you like her whore?”
Tamlin recoiled. His reaction only made Finnian’s smirk widen and he continued in a low voice, his hand still firmly wrapped around Tamlin’s wrist.
“Doomed be the male who takes her to wife, don’t you agree? I wonder what our father was thinking. Certainly not of you.”
Tamlin pulled away more forcefully, and Finnian let him go, his eyes never once leaving the younger male’s face.
“What the hell are you-”
His brother’s words dawned on him then, and it felt as though his lungs had frozen in his chest, “What?” Breathing seemed impossible.
“Finnian, what do you mean?” his voice cracked with urgency. He took hold of his brother’s tunic and shook, not that it budged him at all.
“Finnian!”
“Oh, didn’t you hear?” Finnian asked with mock concern. His rain-cloud eyes were sharp with cruel delight.
“You’re to marry the Hybernian bitch.”
The floor fell out from under him, and he barely registered his brother walking away.
No, no, no, Mother and Cauldron above, no.
When he finally dared to turn back to the dais, Amarantha was already staring at him.
She raised her glass, filled to the brim with black wine, and smiled with a mouth of dripping fangs.
