A Court of Fire & Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter 7
Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)
The wedding seemed to come before he had a chance to process anything. He didn't know what he was doing with Lyriel. Ianthe still wanted him to banish her. Lucien told him how stupid it would be. But they didn't know. They couldn't know. Ianthe may have thought she knew something was up, but she could never be sure. Tamlin counted on her not being certain of anything. If she figured him out, everything would be chaos.
Feyre had sunk into herself more and more. He wanted to fight it, wanted to bring her back to life. But he felt as though he couldn't. He didn't know the full truth of the horrors she went through. He just knew what he'd had to do. He couldn't compare either experience. It wouldn't be fair to either of them.
Needless to say, the wedding felt as though it was the least important thing happening. He had briefly thought about postponing it. But Feyre had worked so hard on the plans. She deserved a perfect day. One where she did not have to think of anything, where she didn't have to worry about anything. Tamlin wouldn't allow his troubles to ruin anything for her. He wouldn't let any creatures come and interrupt the festivities either.
If only he had known what she was hiding from him.
His suit clung to him, making him feel claustrophobic. He had never felt so stifled before. The beast inside of him wanted to rip free of the clothing, wanted to react to the whole thing in a way that Tamlin would not allow. His emotions were all over the place. He felt as though he could barely breathe.
It was a miracle he hadn't destroyed something yet.
A gentle knock sounded on the door. "Enter," he called out as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.
Lyriel slipped silently into the room, her frozen berry scent giving her away. He glanced at her once through the mirror, his mouth going dry at the sight of her.
She wore a dress of silk, as green as his eyes. A slight ran up her left leg, revealing a dagger sheathed at her thigh. The gown hugged the curves that her corsets and pants had never bothered to hide. But it seemed different. This was far more inviting. The beast inside of him wanted to touch her, to feel the soft skin of her thigh, of her arms. Her skin looked just a bit more tan than when she had first come, yet it still held the glow of the winter. Her hair fell in waves down her back, white as snow and so soft that he wanted to run his hands through it.
The scars on her arms were still visible, as were the ones that ran up that delectable thigh. He wondered how many more were hidden underneath her gown. She had been a warrior for a long time. Longer than he ever would have expected.
"You look beautiful," the words left his mouth before he could think about them. He swallowed once, trying to wet his dry throat. "But, uh, I doubt a dagger is an appropriate accessory."
Her lips quirked into a smirk, a dimple appearing on the left side of her mouth. Had it always been there? Was he just noticing it now? "You'll have to take it from my dead body."
Even when they were about to be parted for the rest of their lives, she still found it so easy to be Lyriel. Tamlin knew this wouldn't hurt her. She would get away from him without ever taking a backward glance at him. The thought killed him. Yet, at the same time, he knew he had no right to expect less of her. She deserved everything that he was getting. She deserved more.
"Don't say that," he said as he turned to face her. He didn't miss the sparkle of amusement in her frozen eyes as she took in the sight of him in his finery.
"You don't look like yourself," she stepped towards him slowly. Unsteadily. Tamlin glanced down once, noting the black heeled shoes she wore. She wasn't used to them, her steps small and uncertain. Or maybe she didn't want to be close to him. He couldn't blame her. She was losing a mate that she had never known. He was giving her up without ever actually rejecting her. They weren't supposed to be doing this. But he couldn't stop it. Neither could she.
"What do you mean?" His voice was strained as she stopped just inches away from him. He kept his gaze at the wall behind her, trying not to think of the way her scent tickled his nose. He tried not to think of how her body had felt next to his. He tried not to think of how her hair had felt against his cheek.
That night had been a mistake. One that he replayed over and over again in his mind. He would never have another night like that. Not with her.
"You're not meant for finery," Lyriel stated, her hand slowly coming up. Her fingertips gently traced the shape of his cheekbone, going to his beard. She dropped her hand just before he had a chance to shudder. He hated what she was doing to him. Hated that she was playing with him. "You're meant to tear down kingdoms, to end tyranny. You're a warrior, Tam. Same as me."
He stilled, hating the truth in her words. He had never wanted any of this. Had never wanted the responsibility. But he didn't want to be the monster everyone thought he was. He didn't think he was a warrior. He just didn't like to see injustice being done. Even if he knew, at this point, that there was very little he could do to stop it.
"Lyriel," he whispered her name, it felt like the beginnings of a secret song. "You should go. Home."
A flash of something shone in her eyes as she stepped back from him. It was gone before he could figure out what it had been. "I understand. After the wedding, I'll depart with the rest of your guests. We wouldn't want to cause a scene, would we?"
Her voice had hardened. It wasn't the soft lilt she'd used when speaking to him of who he was. She sounded as though she had just spoken to her general. Maybe the respect should have made him happy, but it just chilled him.
He went to open his mouth, to say something else. Anything to make this moment different. He didn't want to say goodbye to her, didn't want to let her go. But Tamlin knew that he would have to. It had donned on him when she had slipped into the room. When her dress had begged him to tear it from her, he had known that they could not do this. She needed to go her own way, find her own happiness. He had to allow her the opportunity. He couldn't be selfish.
Lyriel slipped from the room before he could find the words to say. Her scent lingered, his body ached with the need to go after her. To comfort her. He didn't though. He just turned back to the mirror, wiping whatever emotion may have been lingering in his face. He wouldn't allow any of the guests to see what he was feeling. All anyone would see was a man who was about to marry the woman he loved.
"Tam," Lucien spoke from outside the room, his knuckles gently rapping on the wood. "It's time."
Tamlin took a deep breath, looking himself over once more. He nodded at himself before he turned to leave. He stepped out of the room, clasping his best friend on the back. "How's Feyre?" It felt wrong not to ask, even if he knew it was probably inappropriate to ask about her.
"About as nervous as you are," Lucien could read him too easily. It came from knowing each other as long as they had. He had never hated it before. "It's all going to be alright. As soon as you two are married, we can finally settle everything."
He knew that Lucien was right. They had a long way to go to make damn well certain that the Spring Court would make it through the aftermath of everything. Not to mention preparing for a war that may or may not come. He had to hope that the wedding would at least give his people some faith that things were getting better. He had to hope they believed it. Even if he wasn't sure if he did.
They made their way to the gardens, Tamlin painting a smile upon his face as they walked. He wanted everyone to see what they should. A man who was finally getting everything that he wanted. He greeted guests, laughing at jokes and making his own when it felt appropriate to do so. His gaze flickered around, not taking in the decor.
The flowers were beautiful, wrapping around columns that had been erected for the wedding. He didn't care about them, didn't care about the way the breeze fluttered around them and wrapped them in warmth. His gaze searched for Lyriel.
She was standing with a group of Spring Court lords, a glass of champagne in her hand and soft laughter falling from her lips. His stomach twisted. She looked so at ease. She didn't look like the woman who had just told him he wasn't meant for this life. She didn't look like the soldier that he knew she was.
She looked like a lady of the court. Lyriel may have thought that she was not suited for anything but a blade and a shield, but he knew better. He could see it in the way she carried herself, in the way she had wrapped his lords around her finger. She belonged in court life. She would do well in it. Mother above, he wished he hadn't of thought about it.
He knew that Lyriel would sooner take a sword to the throat than belong to this world.
"Lyriel's leaving tonight," he murmured to Lucien. Needing to get the words out before they festered in his chest and became a disease.
"What did you do, Tam?" Lucien's smile never faltered, the perfect portrait of a man at ease with his lot in life. Even if it had been particularly shitty. "Did you say something to her?"
"No," he was somewhat affronted that Lucien had even thought that he could do something to Lyriel. "It's just time for her to go. We've got enough on our plates without worrying about the Winter Court and what information they could be gathering."
"Why haven't you had Ari check her out?" Lucien questioned, taking a glass of champagne from a waiter. Feyre would not show for another half hour. Plenty of time to get drunk on faerie wine. Celebrations often turned into week-long events. That was one of the many reasons why Tamlin had not wanted to postpone the wedding.
"Didn't think she would have the time," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "She's been too busy dealing with Rhysand and his moods."
He did feel bad for sending the girl to the Night Court. But the opportunity had never presented itself before. A mating bond had snapped into place, a bond that they could easily exploit. It was a wonder that he had yet to do the same thing with Lyriel. He had to get away from her before he did something he regretted.
Lucien gave him a quick look before he slipped away to speak with others. More people came up to Tamlin, laughing and talking with him about things that did not matter. None of this mattered. At least, he didn't feel as though it did. He was stupid for thinking it. Stupid for thinking anything bitter on the supposedly happiest day of his life. Tamlin hated to think that he was in a foul mood. He hated to think that anything was going to ruin this day.
Feyre deserved so much better than him. He hated himself for thinking that.
"It's time," Lucien murmured to him.
Tamlin's throat felt dry as he watched Ianthe take her place at the head of the alter. He took his own place to the right of Lucien. The guests took their seats, Lyriel in the very back. He hadn't noticed the flowers that she had braided into her hair until then. The periwinkle petals were bright in her white hair. She spoke in soft tones to a man who sat by her. Good, she didn't need to be alone during this.
He tore his eyes from her as the music began to fill the air. Feyre stepped out of the manor, her gown more taffeta and looking as though it was the most uncomfortable thing she had ever worn in her life. He painted a smile on his face for her.
Her own smile did not reach her eyes. She looked anxious, as though she was afraid of everything that was happening. He chalked it up to the last time she had been in front of a crowd of this magnitude. He could imagine how she would have to tell herself that they were okay. She wasn't being made to compete in trials that would possibly end in her death. She was walking towards him. Towards their future together.
His brow furrowed, his feet already beginning to move toward her. Something was wrong. Something was happening that he was unaware of. Had something happened? Had she decided to hide from him again? When would they get to the point where they could actually speak to each other?
A gentle breeze that smelled of spiced wine and the depths of depravity was the only warning. Rhysand appeared in the blink of an eye, a cruel smile on his lips as he looked down at Feyre.
"Feyre, darling," Tamlin wanted to rip him limb from limb. His claws felt as though they were ready to poke out. He heard the sound of steel being drawn from a sheath. "I've come to make good on our bargain."
Before Tamlin could say a word, Rhysand had her in his arms.
"She'll be back in two weeks," Rhysand winked casually at Tamlin. A snarl tore free from Tamlin's lips as the scent of spiced wine and depravity filled the air once more.
A dagger embedded itself in the pillar just beside Tamlin's head. If it had been thrown a second earlier, it would have caught Rhysand straight in the throat. The dagger was unadorned, a simple blade that had been used countless times if the smoothness of the handle was anything to judge by. If anger had not clouded his senses, he would have realized it carried Lyriel's scent with it. He would have seen the woman standing up, the flower petals falling from her hair and a look of rage painted on her face.
"Find her," Tamlin shouted, his voice carrying farther than usual with his rage. His entire body was shaking, his claws out and the fangs pushing at his gums. It hurt, it hurt so much. But he couldn't stop the beast from taking over.
The guests fled, his guards and sentries quickly rushing off in order to figure out the impossible. Tamlin didn't know how to feel, how to react. He just went into the manor, his rage causing him to go through the home blindly. He ripped doors off of the hinges, tore down paintings, and crushed statues that were in his path. Anything to release some of the tension. Anything to release some of the rage that he felt.
He wound up in his office, the desk becoming splinters as he pounded it over and over again with his fists. He had known Rhysand would take her. He'd done all he could to find out how to break their deal. Yet, nothing had ever come up. He'd never imagined that Rhysand hated him so much that he would go out of the way to ruin his wedding. Despite the hatred that he felt for the High Lord of the Night Court, he had respected him enough to think that Rhysand was better than this. Better than this dramatic bullshit.
But he wasn't. No one was ever better. No one ever would be.
He didn't hear her footsteps. He didn't smell her frozen berry scent. No, he didn't notice a damn thing until she gently touched his arm. His hand twitched, not knowing if he should shove her away or pull her closer. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing would ever make sense again and he knew it.
"Tamlin," Lyriel spoke softly, kneeling on the floor beside him. The splinters of the desk tore her dress, ceramic pieces from the lamp tanged in the silk. "Tamlin, look at me."
She didn't look afraid of him. He picked up on that before anything else. Her eyes were wide, but with concern. She was willing to put herself in a vulnerable position in order to try and speak with him. Tamlin trembled slightly as he looked at her. He was afraid.
Afraid of himself. Afraid of her. Afraid of what Rhysand was doing to Feyre. What he would do just to fuck with Tamlin. It all left him feeling powerless, unable to change anything or protect anyone that he loved. It was like he was a child again. Watching as his father did things that he wasn't proud of. The things that still haunted him at night.
"I'm right here," she spoke softly, as though she were trying to soothe a wounded animal. Perhaps that was all he was. "I'm not leaving. We'll get her back. I promise. Everything is going to be alright, Tamlin. You'll find a way to get her out of whatever deal she made. You'll get married and have multiple children."
Despite the fact that she could have easily been sarcastic, Lyriel sounded sincere. She sounded as though she believed that he would get those things. That he deserved those things. No one had ever made him feel as though he deserved to be happy. No one had ever made him feel as though he were anything but a monster.
Feyre did her best. She had done better as a human when he had saved her from a life where she would have died before age twenty. She loved him because he had protected her. She had needed a protector. Now, she needed something different. Tamlin just had trouble realizing it. He never would.
"I just need you to breathe, alright?" Lyriel's eyes were brighter than he thought they had any right to be. He didn't know how a frozen evergreen could look bright, wide, and ... Perfect. His stomach ached at the mere thought of it all. This was too much. All of it was too much.
"Lyriel," he breathed out, his fists clenching in front of him. He looked away from her, his eyes shut tightly. "You should go."
"No, I shouldn't," it was infuriating how she never did as he asked. How she followed her own desire. He'd never known a soldier who didn't listen to orders. "You might tear down the manor if I do."
He knew that she was right. He knew that she was just trying to help. She was trying to be a better person than he deserved. Tamlin felt as though every single thing that Feyre had ever been through was his fault. Everything Rhysand, Lucien, and everyone in the Spring Court fell on his shoulders. He knew that it was nonsensical to think that way. But he did.
"Please," his voice was so small. So much smaller than it had been since the day he had become the High Lord.
Lyriel took his hand in hers. He tried not to note how small her hands were in his. Hers were just as calloused as his own, just as full of scars and of stories that she may never tell him. He shuddered slightly at the chill her skin brought but he did not pull away.
"We're mates," she had to bring that up now? When the world felt as though it were coming to an end. "Even though you're choosing her, I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."
He opened his eyes then, looking at her. Really looking at her. The periwinkle petals had fallen from her hair, one had been left behind. Her eyes were filled with tears, perhaps due to knowing that he wouldn't pick her over Feyre. Yet, she clung to his hand with as much strength as she could muster. She held his hand as though he was her one lifeline. Tamlin had always wanted to be someone's protector, someone's lifeline.
He didn't dare believe he could protect Lyriel.
He brought his right hand up, his claws shrinking back into his skin, and gently moved it to her hair. He plucked the periwinkle petal from her hair and let it fall slowly to the floor. His eyes didn't follow it. Neither did hers. Instead, he allowed his gaze to travel from her eyes to the other areas of her face.
With her time in the sun, freckles had begun to bloom across the bridge of her nose. He wanted to trace them with his forefinger but he did not. The bridge was crooked, having been broken a few times. He wanted to know those stories, wanted to share his own with her. His gaze fell to the small scar above her upper lip. It cut into the cupid's bow and made her lips look much more kissable.
He didn't think about it. Not for the first time in his life, Tamlin took action without thinking. He leaned forward, lightly brushing his lips against hers.
She tasted of those damned frozen berries. The sweetness of them was addicting and he cursed the Winter Court for it. Her lips were soft, perfect against his own.
He kissed her again, hungrier. Desperate. It felt right. Like some switch in his brain had been flipped. His right hand tangled in the white-blonde hair, pulling her as close as he could. She kissed him back, just as hungrily. They were teeth and tongue and fire and ice.
They were berries and roses and pine and peony. Everything they shouldn't be and everything they should.
Lyriel pulled away first, a shuddering breath leaving her. She stood, her gown showing more skin now that it had been ripped by splinters of wood and shards of ceramic. She looked at him for a few seconds, he could taste the tension in the air, before she turned on her heel and left.
Leaving Tamlin alone in his broken kingdom.
