#acourtofwriting

Lucien felt numb as he watched his sister who now rested on the bed in front of him. Elain stood quietly behind him, a hand resting on his shoulder. They had safely made it back to the House of Wind, giving the signal to the others that they were away and safe. Concern rippled through the other’s features when they returned to the sight of Eleanor, passed out in Lucien’s arms with her blood-soaked dress. Every protective instinct had kicked in since the first sighting of the young fae, and they did not cease. He refused to leave the healer alone to her work, desperate to know the state of his sister.

Azriel now sat in the room as well, twisting his fingers together. The others came in and out to check on them. Lucien continued to stare at Eleanor’s bandaged back as the healer had finally finished and left the room hours ago. All Lucien could see was every area of ruined flesh, her too thin frame, her sunken eyes. That was only the outside damage, he didn’t want to think of the emotional scars and trauma she surely had.

“Lucien, she’s going to be okay. She’s here, with us and we’ll do everything in our power to make sure she heals.” Elain’s gentle voice reached his ears as he felt her move to sit in his lap. She placed a hand on his cheek to bring his focus back. Lucien took in a deep breath, and nodded. He knew that she was here and safe, yet guilt still coursed through him. Eleanor should have been here sooner, he should have known about her. His head fell softly in the crook of her smooth neck, and he took another shuttering breath in. He so desperately wanted to cry, but he refused to do anything of the sort in front of the others. He could let everything out later, with Elain. He grew calmer as her fingers began running through his long hair. He immediately lifted his head at the sound of ruffling sheets, and a soft whimper. When they stood those whimpers turned into louder screams.

“I’ll get the healer and tell her she’s awake,” Elain quickly mumbled as she moved to the doors. Azriel shook his head before speaking.

“You stay here, I’ll go get the healer. I don’t think she’ll find comfort in my presence.” He winnowed out of the extra bedroom they were in, leaving Lucien to rush towards his sister. He was immediately stopped by Elain’s hand and he understood the look that crossed her face. He could tell every muscle in the female before them was tightened, her eyes widened in fear, lines of silver brimming her eyes. He took a step back, realization washing over him. She was scared. So obviously scared of them.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered out, clutching the silk sheet tighter to her bare skin. A feeling of distress flooded his senses at the fact she assumed any of them would cause her intentional pain. He understood why though. He was sure that’s all she had ever known. She glanced down at herself again, her hands beginning to tremble.

“D-did anyone?” Her hands clutched the cloth tighter not able to form the full question. He cringed, realizing what she was asking and the confusion she must feel over her unclothed frame.  

“Oh, Gods no!” Elain shook her head violently, horror lighting her eyes at her suggestion. Eleanor relaxed ever so slightly, but was clearly still fear stricken.

The door opened, the healer and Azriel rushing in. Eleanor jumped back, her eyes rushing back and forth between all of the fae now in the room. The healer approached Eleanor’s bedside, beginning to ask questions on how she was feeling. Her lips parted as if she would answer the questions, but her voice did not sound.

“Lucien, Az, let’s give her some space,” Elain spoke, acknowledging each male. Lucien wanted to protest. How could he leave his sister in the state she was in? His mouth opened, but as his eyes fell upon her again he knew she wanted them all gone. He swallowed the lump in his throat and walked out with the others, leaving Eleanor alone with the healer.

Eleanor’s heart refused to slow down the moment she awoke wrapped in the silk sheets and cloud like bed. The Hewn City did not have beds that comfortable, and she knew she was not where she belonged. When she realized the golden jeweled dress gone, more panic filled her at the thought of what they could have done to her in the unconscious state she was in.  As she shot up, the soft sheets tightly gripped against her chest, she recognized the two males that had been in the room with Kedron. The one she now knew as her brother and the winged male who had held the knife against Kedron’s throat. She did not know the fae female who spoke in the calming tone, claiming she would go get the healer until the dark-haired male had disappeared instead.

Fear overwhelmed all her senses as the supposed healer stood in front of her now. She could see her lips move in speech, but her voice did not register in Ella’s ear. The female fae bent down at the bedside and gently reached out a hand towards the bandages wrapped around her entire torso.

“In the chaos your whipping wounds were ripped open, causing you to bleed. I cleaned and wrapped the damage as best I could when you first arrived.” The healer spoke in a quiet confidence that ever so slightly released the tension in her body. “I need to change the bandages and see how they’re doing, is that okay?” Ella softly nodded her head, unclenching her fingers one by one from the cloth and turning back onto her stomach once again. She didn’t know where she was or what purpose she served to these fae. But the healer was trying to help her, and she didn’t know what else she could do in this moment. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine every scenario and none of them were pleasant to think about. When the healer had finally finished her work she stood up, letting Ella know she could turn around again.

“I was told to give you these to change into. The loose fabric will be gentle on your back.” She was handed two pieces of clothing, a pair of long flowing paints and a top that looked like it would be much too small for her. Her eyes shone with questions and discomfort distorted her features at the thought of wearing so little in front of others.

“If a dress would make you more comfortable surely they can-“

“No, it’s fine,” she whispered. If this was the clothing she was given she knew it would be best to follow along and not complain. Refusing and questions only made things harder on her end. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood straight with no amount of ease. She felt stiff and pain shot through every area of her body. She worked quickly to put the fabric on. She fought every instinct to wrap her arms around herself. Ella tugged anxiously at the top, willing it to lengthen and cover her stomach. She took a deep breath and placed herself back down on the bed. The healer nodded, as she gathered her supplies and made her way towards the door.

“You need your rest. Someone will be in to check on you in a little bit.” Ella nodded in understanding and let her head fall onto the plush pillows. She was much more tired than she realized as her eyes blinked in and out of focus. She was told to rest, so she would.

Lucien’s fingers were intertwined tightly with Elain’s. A squeeze of her hand, to reassure him, was felt and he returned the gesture as they walked out of the room with Azriel. Eleanor was going to be okay, she was in safe hands and no one could hurt her anymore. He kept repeating it, over and over, to try and calm himself down.

“How is she doing?” Lucien looked up, stepping back in a small amount of shock as Feyre and Rhys approached them, Cassian and Amren moving behind them. Nesta was soon at Cassian’s side. Feyre’s question finally clicked and he tried to get his brain to work a response.

“She’s awake and the healer is with her now, checking on her. She’s obviously shaken up, and doesn’t seem to trust any of us, with good reason.” He spoke in a small and defeated tone, squeezing Elain’s hand again. Azriel stepped up beside him and nodded.

“What happened in that room with Kedron wasn’t exactly pretty and she saw what you were capable of with Eris yesterday. I’m sure all she can see in us right now are anger and violence. If what I know of The Court of Nightmares and what you’ve told me of life in the Autumn Court, violence from men is probably all she’s ever known.” Az spoke calmly, hands crossed over his worn Illyrian leathers that he hadn’t changed out of.

“Not to add all the myths she was surely taught about the Night Court. She doesn’t understand our intentions at all, and doesn’t know we want to help her,” Elain said certainly. The High Lord and Lady, along with the others, nodded in understanding. Eleanor was hurt, scared and broken and they knew better than anyone that healing was a long and ongoing process. This wasn’t going to be an easy road, and they understood trust could not and would not be built easily.

“We’ll support her in any way she needs us to and we’ll do everything in our power to let her know we’re on her side and she’s safe here,” Feyre said with the confidence of the High Lady she was. Their attention turned to the healer that stepped out of the room.

“I cleaned and rebandaged the wounds. They look like they’ll heal fine, with the expected scarring. She’s in a state of shock and distress, and she needs to rest,” she spoke, looking at each member in the hallway, “She’ll be fine for now. You know where to find me if I’m needed.” They each nodded in understanding and looked on as she walked down the hall.

“I think we all have responsibilities to attend to. We’ll let her rest and one of us can check on her in a few hours.” They once again nodded at Rhysand’s words, one by one trickling out of the sprawling hall.

Lucien looked down at his and Elain’s hands still clutching together and back up to those stunning eyes of hers. She flashed a reassuring smile and turned to urge him to their shared room. Once they had entered they both sat at the edge of their bed.

“Come on, foxboy,” she teased placing her palm softly against his cheek, “let me know what’s going on in that mind of yours.” Her thumb brushed against his skin, grazing over the scar that marred his cheek. Despite the circumstances Lucien’s lips curled into a soft smile at his mate’s gesture. The Mother only knew how much he loved Elain.

“Mostly worry, guilt, shame,” his features fell into a sorrowful look and he turned his gaze to his clutched hands. “All I can see when I close my eyes is the damage that’s been done to her and I’m just filled with guilt that I did nothing to stop it any sooner,” his fingers began toying with each other as he began processing just what was going on in his mind. “I feel shame that I’ve gone so many years without even knowing she existed.” His fingers stopped fiddling with each other as he ran his hand through his long hair and tugged in frustration. Elain was silent, but Lucien had no doubt she was listening and heard every word falling from him. Her hand still rested against his cheek and he pressed into it.

“Those are all valid feelings, Lucien but you can’t let them control you,” she simply said. Lucien took another shuttering breath and nodded.

“I know, I know,” he whispered, fluttering his eyes shut.

“Just know and understand that none of this was in your control. There was no way for you to know about her, and nothing you could have done until now to save her,” she pressed her thumb gently against his cheek, wiping more tears as they fell, “Even if you could have, what’s done is done and in the past. We can only move forward.” Lucien nodded once more, embracing the warmth of her hand against his skin.

“I love you, my dove,” he whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss against her head.

Ella had woken up again, but she did not open her eyes quite yet. If she kept them shut, she could fall into the softness of the bed and warmth of the blankets. She could ignore everything that had happened and for a few moments live in complete bliss. Her fantasies were soon interrupted by the opening and closing of the door. She lay there, pressed on her stomach and listened to the fae that had entered. She finally opened her eyes and slowly pushed herself up. Her gaze fell to her brother, now sitting on the chair in the corner of the room. Their gaze met, and they stared in silence at one another.

“How are you?” He finally spoke. Ella nervously clutched the bed sheets closer to her body. The full impact of how little clothes she had on hit her with a male now with her. The inside of her cheek was brought between her teeth as her eyes flickered around the room, not daring to meet his gaze. She let the silence fall like a heavy blanket between them. A few long minutes passed before Lucien’s lips parted in speech once more.

“Eleanor, please talk-“ he was quickly interrupted by her own loud shouts.

“Don’t call me that!” She roared. When she was in Hewn City, every ounce of fight had left her. She was exhausted and broken. But she was in a new place now, with new people that confused her, and fear was overriding all logic. She knew what cruelty to expect when she arrived from the Autumn Court, but here, she wasn’t so sure. She didn’t know what these fae wanted or what they could do to her, but somehow that thought put just enough fight into her. She could see the confusion flickering in his eyes at her reaction.

“Is that not your name, Eleanor?” He asked. His hands clutched tightly in his lap and she could tell he was fighting every urge not to stand up and come towards her. She shook her head frantically at his reply.

“I hate it, I hate, I hate,” she muttered wildly, curling up in a tight ball against herself. The only people who used that name were the men that abused her and had mistreated her. She could only hear fragments of her father’s sickening voice, and her brother’s cruel laughter as that name left someone’s lips. She could see Keir’s hand that had struck her, and Kedron who did nothing as he stood and watched her cry out. No, she didn’t like that name at all. Lucien’s nails dug into his skin as he desperately tried to figure out a way to calm her down.

“Okay, okay, I won’t call you that. What would you like me to call you then?” He asked, standing up from his seat and pacing the bedroom floor, if only to do something with his body. She suddenly took pause, looking up at this pacing male. There was no reason for her to believe he would not be like the others. What did it matter if he used that name as well. She fell silent once again, not answering his question. She tore her gaze away from him and fiddled with the sewn hem of the sheet. It was impossible for her to stand still when she was nervous or scared, she had to play with something. He paused his movement to look at her when she did not answer.

“I have to call you something,” he mutters as he takes a step towards the bed. Everything in Ella tensed when he made towards her. He immediately noticed and froze where he was, then turned back to his original spot and began to pace again. Her muscles slowly relaxed once more as he stepped away from her. Though her muscles relaxed she sat frozen on her place in the bed, her mouth sealed shut. Her mind was buzzing in a million different directions when her eyes landed on the scar. It was a horrid scar that scrapped across at an angle from the top of his left eyebrow, through his eye and down his cheek. When she studied it further she realized that his left eye was completely missing. It had been replaced with a golden orb that seemed to move just like his other. Her heart began to hammer wildly as her head tilted to study him further. Without thinking of the words that fell from between her lips, she asked in a meek voice.

“Did they do that to you?” These fae that captured her from her other prison, had they ruined his face like that? Was he as much a prisoner as she was? She refused to think about what would happen to her if they could do that to him. He took another step back as his brows scrunched together, clearly baffled at the change of subject and her question.

“What are you-“ he paused as his fingers slowly reached up to trace that damaged flesh, almost as if he forgot that it was there. A look of recognition flickered across his features. “Oh no I-“

“Are they keeping you here against your will as well?” She asked in that same quiet tone as before. Lucien’s features grew confused at her second question. He opened his mouth, as if to speak but closed it once more. His hands finally fell away from the marred skin and studied the female across the room. A strange look crossed his face, like that of pain or sadness, maybe a mixture of both. Did the scar still hurt him after all this time?  

“Oh no, no, no,” he finally sputtered out shaking his head, “No one in the Inner circle did this to me,” he ran a hand through his long hair and that look that she couldn’t quite place only grew deeper. “Nor would they ever do such a thing, to me or you,” he muttered. She sat there, confusion still brewing in her and shook her head wildly. She didn’t believe him, it was exactly something they would do.

“I don’t, I don’t understand?” She stuttered out. He took a deep breath, hand still clutched in his hair. He turned towards the door across the room.

“Rest for a little more, okay? I’ll call the healer and let the others know you’re awake,” he said softly as his long legs strode across the room. He was about to step out of the open door, when she called out to him.

“Wait.” She watched as he paused, not turning back till after a few seconds. His eyes searched her, looking at her expectantly. “Ella,” was all the she said, but he seemed to understand. She trusted him. She certainly didn’t trust him entirely, not with her life, or her secrets, or with much of anything, but enough. It was enough for him to know what she liked to be called. He repeated the name, once, twice, another time to get the feeling of the name on his tongue. He gave her quick nod, and turned back towards the door, pausing for a second more.

“I’m Lucien,” was all he said before finally slipping away.

“You can’t expect to actually pull this off,” Amren asked, her hands crossed tightly over her chest, staring at a still frantic Fae. Lucien so desperately wanted to scream, or punch something, anything to release this frustration he was building up. The shock had fallen away, leaving an onslaught of different emotions for him to figure out. Why were they being difficult? Why couldn’t they see how desperately she needed help?

“Against all odds Rhys saved Feyre when Tamlin had locked her up. When she was broken and lost you freed her and brought her to safety. Why can’t we do the same for my sister? She’s family, my family,” he all but yelled, his hands slamming on the table making Elain, who stood beside him, flinch. He relaxed ever so slightly when he felt her small hands grace his shoulders, and the melodic tone of her voice reached his ears.

“Lucien, please, calm down. They want to help her, I know they do. But for us to succeed we need to think about this logically.” Lucien nodded softly, taking a deep breath before letting loose the tension coiling in his shoulders. His palm faced upward as Elain’s hands trailed down his arm, intertwining their fingers. She would always be his constant rock.

“You’re their High Lord and High Lady, can’t you just command them to call the wedding off and give Eleanor to us? They can’t refuse you without consequences,” Lucien mumbled, his free hand tightening in his silk like hair, turning to Feyre and Rhys.

“Our relationship with Hewn City is already fragile. Stealing the heir’s bride will be a guaranteed way to tear apart what little we’ve built over the years. You little spew with Eris already helped that along I’m sure.” Rhys reasoned. Mor took a few steps toward them, standing by her cousin as she spoke.

“Keir will always be angry with what I did all those years ago to ruin my betrothal to Eris. He’ll be damned if he lets another betrothal slip through his fingers through whatever circumstance. Keir and Kedron will be out to destroy us no matter what we do if we’re to save the poor girl. We might as well go out with a bang and a guarantee we get her,” Mor simply shrugged, her perfectly manicured nails on her hip as she looked at everyone in the room. A fire in her eyes. Lucien opened his mouth to protest, to fight back, but quickly snapped it shut as he realized the Third in Command was agreeing with him.

“I agree with Mor. If we’re to bring Lucien’s sister to safety there is no avoiding Keir’s wrath.” Lucien looked over in shock as Azriel stepped up beside him, emerging from the shadowed corner. “Almost every one of us has experienced abuse, oppression and torture in some form. What kind of people are we to leave an innocent to suffer at the hands of Keir?” Lucien straightened up, nodding in agreement as he looked to his High Lord once more. Rhys let out a tired sigh, a large hand rubbing down his face as he looked to his mate. A silent conversation was held between the two of them before Feyre finally nodded.

“Az, what time is the wedding supposed to be?” Rhys asked turning away from Feyre to the Spymaster beside Lucien.

“My spies have told me it would be around noon tomorrow.”

“I guess we have a wedding to crash then,” Rhys grumbled out, before smirks etched upon each member of the inner circle.

How had she never known she had another brother? Images of the tall man, with features so like her own, flashed through her mind as she lay awake that night. Her heart had been pounding since the man -her brother- had left with the others. Her mind would not be silent, making sleep impossible. She wanted to cry out as she tossed and turned in the bed. Her wounds had barely closed and felt raw against her nightgown and the cool sheets. Fear raked through her as she remembered how he had attacked Eris, how thoroughly he had beaten their oldest brother. There was no doubt in her mind he was like the others. He would not show her more kindness than anyone else had. He certainly would not be coming back for her. Tomorrow at noon she would be united with Kedron, and she would be nothing more than a pretty thing in Hewn City. She would have nothing, and no one except her own pitiful thoughts.

Maybe she was making it out to be worse than it was. Kedron was kinder then most. He hadn’t yet raised his voice or hand towards her in a measure of anger and maybe that’s all she could ask for. His looks and touches of lust were bound to be expected, could she be upset about them? She turned over once more, curling on her side, trying to find some semblance of comfort. She only hissed at the brush of fabric against her ruined flesh: a reminder of what they could do to her, and what they already had done.

Ella shut her eyes tightly as the servants bustled around her, making last minute changes to her appearance. She tried to focus on her breathing, on anything beyond what was coming and what was being set in stone. Her palms became clammy and her breaths uneven as she began to shake. But these were not a normal bride’s nerves. The servants stepped away, their final touches finished and Ella finally opened her eyes. Everything was hazy through the black veil covering her face, but as she looked down she caught the glitter of the small golden jewels in the skirts of her gown, in her bodice and in the sleeves that reached her wrist. She was almost thankful the long sleeves would cover most of her damaged skin from prying eyes. The neckline plunged low, far lower than she would have liked. She so desperately wanted to pull the long waves of her hair over her shoulder, but her hand was quickly slapped away before she could touch and a bouquet of golden roses shoved in her hand instead. She quickly turned as the creak of the door reached her pointed ears, the shimmering train of her dress following her. Keir stepped through with a wicked grin upon his lips as he looked her up and down. The servants surrounding her immediately fell into a low bow or curtsey.

“You truly look magnificent,” he spoke as he strode toward her in the middle of the room, acknowledging no one else, “The servants have done their job well.” Ella only looked on in silence, and clutched the flowers in her hand tightly to keep herself under control as he circled her.  After another few moments, he spoke again.

“Are we still playing the silent game, my dear Eleanor?” Keir chuckled as he stopped his circling right behind her, “Do you plan to never speak again?” A hand pressed firmly against the thin fabric of her gown, brushing against her tender flesh. She gasped slightly as he pressed harder into the wounds, making sure she felt it. He leaned in, down towards her ears, “Need I remind you what happens if you do not cooperate?” He whispered, only pressing the torn flesh harder.

“No sir.” She shook her head. The two short words were her first towards him and were hardly heard by anyone else. She cringed behind the veil at how submissive they sounded, how vile they tasted against her lips.

“Good girl,” was his only reply before his arm was held out for her to take. She would be led down the tremendous hall to be given off to Kedron and she so desperately wished that she could refuse. She wanted to run as far away as her weakening muscles would take her. She shook every tempting thought of escape from her mind before threading her arm through his and following.

She could no longer control her breathing as she saw Kedron at the end of the black silk that led to the alter. This was all becoming much too real, much too soon. With each step she took towards him, the realization that she could not escape weighed down like a thousand bricks. Her fingers shook violently around the rose stems and her chest only grew tighter with the closing distance. She was thankful for the dark veil that covered the tear drops falling from her amber eyes. She examined the rows of seated people on either side of her. Every single eye seemed to examine her right back. Her eyes raced back to Kedron who she now stood before. Keir passed her hand right into his son’s and sat down on his throne that perched on the dais behind the priestess. Kedron clutched her hand tightly in his own, but she hardly noticed. She hardly noticed anything but the roaring between her ears and the pounding of her heart. The ceremony began and her breathing did not calm nor did her heart. This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real, this is all a dream. She kept repeating in her head, over and over willing it to become true.  

“Do you Kedron Darkbringer vow to protect this high Fae, Eleanor Vanserra by joining together in marriage?” The Priestess’ voice was calm and steady as she began the traditional vows for court alliances.

“With the Mother’s help, I do.” Kedron spoke with no hesitation, a confidence lifting his voice.

“Do you vow to care for Eleanor Vanserra and keep her by your side no matter what troubles may come?” The Priestess continued.

“With the Mother’s help, I do,” he repeated once more, keeping a steady gaze on the Fae girl in front of him. The roaring in her head only grew louder as the Priestess turned towards her.

“Do you, Eleanor Vanserra, vow to support and care for this high Fae, Kedron Darkbringer, as your husband?” Eleanor’s mouth fell open, and she urged her lips to say the words she was told she must repeat, but her voice would not sound. Her knees were quivering, and threatened to give out under her. A sharp pain ran through her nerves as Kedron’s fingers dug into her palm in warning. She could see the threat in his eyes, of what he would do if she did not speak at once.

Suddenly screams rippled through the crowd as a deep voice made Eleanor whip around.

“Oh, how I do love weddings.” Striding down the aisle was none other than the High Lord and Lady, their third and her brother on either side of the couple. Followed by two winged men, only one of which she recognized from yesterday. Kedron immediately tensed beside her, pulling her roughly into his side and did not lighten his grip on her. Keir’s voice rose from behind them, no ounce of kindness in his voice.

“You move one more step and I will not hesitate to end everything we’ve worked for.” His growl was more feral than a beast’s, but Rhysand was not phased. In fact, he seemed to find humor in the situation as he released a loud chuckle before taking a slow and deliberate step down the aisle.  

“This can end with all of your bodies intact if you hand us the girl. That’s all we ask for.” His tone was cold and aloof, leaving no room for refusal. Eleanor’s knees finally gave out and she slipped from Kedron’s grip, landing on the hard stone. Panic only rose as she struggled for a normal breath. Her trembling hands clawed at her chest before black twirled around her vision like ballerinas and she gladly fell into it.

Panic flickered across Lucien’s face as his sister fell to the cold ground and did not move. His fist clenched against every instinct to run right towards her. He immediately focused back onto the plan they had created. They all knew both Keir and Kedron would not budge in giving up Eleanor without force, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“You take my wife and I will never cease in hunting you down and killing everyone you love slowly before doing the same to you,” Kedron’s growl was even more feral than his father’s, if that was even possible.

“She is not your wife. She is no one’s but her own,” Lucien could not help but speak, rage boiling beneath the surface.

“One alliance between the Autumn Court was already ruined because of you useless bastards and I’ll be damned if you take her and ruin this one as well.” Keir pushed himself out of his throne and made his way towards the Inner Circle, stopping mere inches away from their High Lord. Lucien’s hand fell to the sword that lay on his hip, eyes intently on Keir. Murmurs once again arose from the crowd and a smirk etched ever so slowly onto his face. When Lucien looked beyond the king’s shoulder both Eleanor and Kedron were gone. Both Azriel  and Lucien looked to Rhys and a quick nod was sent to them both.

“I see we’re going to have to do this the hard way then,” Rhys snarled under his breath, not tearing his gaze away from Keir as Lucien and Azriel winnowed away. 

Eleanor awoke, blinking rapidly to clear her blurry vision, but she still could not see far in the dark and damp room. She felt long fingers clutching tightly around her upper arm and a scream ripped from her throat. It was quickly muffled by a large hand clamped tightly around her mouth. Her body twisted and turned to try and slip from the man’s hold. A loud grunt reached her ears as one of her elbows connected with ribs.

“Eleanor, stop moving, now.” he hissed pulling her tight against his chest to limit her movements. She did not know whether she should be relieved it was only Kedron or if she should fight even more.

“It looks like your brother and his bastard friends were stupid enough to come back for you,” he chuckled darkly. She shook her head in disbelief. It wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t come for her. He didn’t even know her. None of them had even known who she was until yesterday. It seemed impossible, but Eleanor had seen them with her own two eyes and she heard the words that fell from her brother’s lips before she completely blacked out. She shook her head again. They weren’t here to save her. They were only going to move her to another hell if they did end up taking her as they claimed they would. Ella cried out once more as Kedron slammed her against the stone wall, his body keeping her still against it.

“What did you do, Eleanor? Did you summon them to rescue your pitiful life? Why did they come?” Kedron sneered in her ear, clutching her upper arm tightly between his fingers. Tears began streaming down her cosmetic covered faced as pain shot through her arm, and up her torn back. She felt a warm liquid seep through her dress, the scent of blood filling her nose.

“Answer me now,” he barked, rage simmering in his eyes as he clutched her face tightly and turned it towards him. Any ounce of kindness Kedron might have had for her was now diminished. 

“I-I don’t know anything I-“ she cut herself off, letting out a loud sob, squirming to get out of his grip. “Please let me go! I didn’t do anything I swear,” she screamed out. Kedron finally pulled back from her with a roar, pushing her to the icy cool floor. She whimpered as the pain shot through her wrist, having impacted the fall. She scrambled back against the wall as he made towards her again. His strength yanked her off the ground once more, holding just as tightly.

“Why would they come for you? Your brother knows nothing of you and should have no pity on you, nor the others.” Ella took a deep breath and shook her head, not trusting herself to speak anymore. She kept asking herself the same question, over and over.

“Shut up, and stop crying,” he seethed his palm landing against her cheek, “Your tears aren’t going to help you.” She could not stop the sobs wracking through her body, no matter how hard she tried to calm herself.

“Get your hands off her, now.” Both Kedron and she whipped their heads to the deep voice in the doorway. Kedron’s iron grip only grew tighter at the sight of the winged male and her brother in the doorway.

“She’s my wife and you cannot tell me what do with her.” Ella stood frozen in her place, her gaze flickering between the three Fae. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest and her whimpers only grew more as nails dug into her flesh, drawing more blood.

“I already told you, she is not your wife and she will never be,” her brother spoke with a fierce calm she had never heard before from anyone.

Kedron snarled and lunged for the two Fae, rage seeping from every inch of his body. Ella was finally released from the bruising grip and once more fell to the stone floor. A cry escaped her lips as the winged male, within seconds, vanished and reappeared behind Kedron with a blade angled at his throat. There was barely any room for Kedron to breath or speak without getting sliced. Fear coursed through every vein as she pressed herself against the wall, getting away from him. This was not someone to mess with and she got the message loud and clear.

“Are you going to cooperate, or do you need to have a slit throat?” the winged Fae seethed into his ear. He did not seem to be phased at all by the sharp edge pressed tightly to his throat, or the death grip the male had on him. Ella could not help studying the warrior that stood mere inches away from her. The massive bat like wings that spread wide, barely fitting into the small room. The ruined flesh on his hands, so like her own. The midnight black hair that fell across his head, matching the black leathers that adorned his tall figure and broad chest. The look of pure rage and death etched on his sculpted features. She did not know if she should be amazed or grovel and beg for mercy at his feet. Her eyes immediately dashed to the red headed male. Images of his fist against Eris flashed through her mind. What would they do with her if they succeeded in taking her? She could not be safer in their hands then she had been in anyone else’s. She trembled against the cold wall, as she watched the winged male bring that knife even closer, and flinched at the small dribble of blood that appeared. Would he kill him, only to turn around and do the same to her?

Kedron’s elbow lifted, jamming hard into the winged male’s gut whose grip only loosened for a moment. He grabbed the damaged flesh of the male’s hand as if to force the knife into his own. A hard blow landed in Kedron’s own gut, causing him to double over giving enough time to be roughly shoved into the wall beside her. The winged male only chuckled before landing an equally harsh blow against his head with the hilt of his knife. Kedron slumped over and fell to the ground with no amount of grace as the male stepped back. Ella scrambled away as quickly as she could when he turned his attention towards her.

“Please, leave me alone,” she whimpered, not even caring as she begged him. Her brother immediately rushed over to her side, kneeling beside her. The winged male followed him. Ella screamed out when his hand reached out to grab her, sobs continuing to fall from her lips. She did not notice the pain spreading through every inch of her back, or the warmth soaking her dress as she moved away from the two of them. Their features immediately softened as they looked at her.

“We’re not here to harm you,” the dark haired one spoke in a soft and soothing tone as he placed a hand on her forearm.

“Don’t touch me!” She cried out, ripping her arm away from his touch, pressing it tightly to her chest. He immediately retreated his hand, moving away from her entirely.

“We’re trying to help you, Eleanor. We’re going to take you somewhere safe.” Ella looked to her brother as he spoke, his words became muffled, like she was under water. She shook her head violently, only gripping her arm closer to her. Worry etched deeply into his features as he looked up to the winged male.

“She needs a healer immediately, she’s bleeding badly.” He spoke in a hushed and urgent tone. Ella’s vision began to blur, light dancing in the corner of her eyes. She tried to protest as her brother leaned down to grab her, but her movements became sluggish. She cried out one last time before the blackness devoured her for the second time that day.

Ella had found some semblance of peace in the book she now clutched tightly in her hand. She had always been a curious fae when she was younger, and that curiosity seem to still burn. She remembered days when her mother would teach her in anything she could, with any book she managed to find. Mr. Soarven would do the same if time was on their side after dance lessons. She was no scholar, but she could read well enough, and knew basic histories, among other knowledge. Whenever she could get her hands on a book of any kind she would devour it as best she could. She had been surprised when she found the old dusty shelf in the corner of her large room, somehow forgotten for however long. Kedron did not seem to mind the books now stacked on her bedside table or caught in her hand the nights he visited. If she did as he asked, and he stayed in a good mood.

“We are having guest today, Eleanor.” Ella looked up from the words she had been so focused on, to Kedron who entered her room. She nodded slowly, bringing the now closed book tighter to her chest, almost afraid he would take it away from her. She would not be surprised if he did.

“Your brothers will be here within the hour. They want to check up on their dear sister before her wedding day,” Kedron chuckled with a soft smirk on his face. Dread filled her before a hope lightened in her eyes. Perhaps her mother would be here as well? It quickly died away when no mention of her mother or even her father was made.

“Our High Lord and Lady are unfortunately due as well.” All humor fell from his features at the mention of the two fae. Clearly not happy that they would be making a visit. She had heard many stories of the High Lord and High Lady, and The Night Court itself. Some Good, Some bad, some simply myth and legend. She wasn’t sure who to believe or what was real or myth. Ella’s fingers tightened around the book as he stepped closer, holding his hand out for her to take. She slowly took it and accepted his help in standing from the chair she was found in.

“You will not speak to any of our guest besides your brothers, or appear unless summoned. Is that clear?” He spoke firmly, his hand holding her own tightly in warning. She only nodded in reply, knowing what would happen if she disagreed or disobeyed. Keir’s whipping had only been a week ago. The throbbing pain of her torn back would not let her forget that lesson anytime soon. Kedron placed a tender kiss against her head.

“Go dress in something presentable for your brothers, I’ll come get you when they’re here.” Kedron dropped her hand, and turned to exit the way he had come. Despite his back being turned she only nodded in understanding. She had no desire to see her brothers but if they were coming there was no way of avoiding it. Nothing they could do was any worse than what she had already experienced anyway.

~~~~~~~~

Lucien knew that coming to the Court of Nightmares would never become easier. Coming here would never stop reminding him of every minute he and so many others spent Under the Mountain. The very court that inspired Amarantha. Everything in him would be thankful that it was not often he had to come here with the others. It was likely that Lucien would not be here at all today if wasn’t for Elain’s prompting. She could say nothing more to the Inner Circle except she felt a strong urgency for him to be there.

He stood in his directed corner of the throne room, watching his High Lord and High Lady play their game with Keir, getting statuses on everything they deemed important. It had been a week since that night Elain had shared that vision with him. Though he didn’t want to admit it, he was beginning to think far too much on it. Elain had told the rest of them what she had seen, but no one seemed to be able to make sense of it. Was it a vision for his future? Was it some warning?

Lucien tore his gaze from Rhys and Feyre as they sat on their thrones, dismissing Keir. He spotted the other inner circle members throughout the room, Mor, and Amren. And no doubt Azriel, somewhere here blending into the shadows. Cassian opted to protect the town house while they were away, keeping Nesta and Elain company.

He froze when his eyes landed on Eris, and his three other brothers mingling with members of the court. Straightening up, Lucien turned his attention back towards the High Lord and High lady hoping none of them would notice him. With no such luck Eris sidled up to Lucien with a smirk drawn across his features.

“My, my brother how good it is to see you,” he chuckled with an air of arrogance, patting Lucien’s shoulder as if they were old friends. When his eldest brother refused to leave when met with silence he turned towards him to speak.

“What, may I ask, are you and the others doing here?” Lucien crossed his arms over his muscled chest, no ounce of kindness in his russet eye.

“Only checking up on some business between our courts is all,” Eris simply shrugged.

“And what Business does the Autumn Court have with Hewn City?” Lucien’s cool and collected demeanor did not falter as he turned to his brother.

“Now, I can’t go off sharing court secrets, now can I?” Eris chuckled, leaning against the stone wall they both stood by. “How is everything going dear Lucien? Is Mor still being the slut she is? How about your High Lady? She hasn’t been crushed by the pressure of her position yet, has she?” His smirk did not leave his lips as he continued. Lucien clenched his fist as he kept his attention to the Rhys and Feyre. He would not make a scene. He would not let it show these insults affected him, no matter how badly they did.

“Oh, and how’s sweet Elain? She must still be mourning that human scum, Greyson. Poor naïve little Elain.” Oh, that bastard knew. He knew Lucien and Elain were mates, knew they had accepted that years ago. He knew that any comment towards Elain would get right under Lucien’s skin.

“If you value your life, Eris, I suggest you shut that mouth of yours immediately,” Lucien seethed with complete and utter silent rage, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword strapped to his side.

“Are you threatening me now, brother?” Eris pushed off the wall making a step towards the long-haired man. “We both know you don’t have the guts to end my life, you never have.”

“You underestimate me far too much. You insult my family again and I won’t hesitate, brother.” Eris let out a roaring laugh, only stepping closer to Lucien.

“Oh, that’s cute isn’t it, they’re your family now? It only makes sense. A group of worthless bastards, whores and outcast that no one else wants. You fit right in.” Lucien’s control and unbothered demeanor rushed out of him as his right fist swung against Eris repeatedly. His face, his stomach, anywhere Lucien could reach. Eris only laughed that cruel roaring laugh again before swinging right back. There was no doubt everyone had turned towards their brawl now. The crowd began murmuring before shouting was heard and the crowd parted for Keir and his son. Lucien did not slow his attack, letting years of anger boil out. He did not step away even when the inner circle members crowded around them, shouting for him to stop, albeit reluctantly.

“Get your dog off my guest,” Keir roared towards Rhys and Feyre as they descended the dais towards them. Lucien released a snarl far more animal than Fae as Azriel finally managed to rip him off Eris, but not without one last punch to his gut. Eris stood to his feet breathless as he wiped the blood dripping from his mouth and chuckled. Lucien released another growl lunging for the Fae male again, but Az held firmly.

“You’re just going to let him get away beating people to a pulp?” Keir raged on, waving a hand towards the younger Vanserra. Rhys only shrugged, but Lucien caught the gleam in his High Lord’s eyes, his High Lady’s eyes as well. The urge they fought to smirk.

“We’ll deal with him later. Frankly I think we can all agree Eris deserved it.” Feyre spoke stepping closer to the gathered crowd.

“Setting such bad examples for our little sister, Lucien. She might think she can just attack whomever she pleases,” that mischievous glint only shone brighter in Eris’ eye, “On the eve of her wedding as well. I’m sure she’s already terribly overcome with stress and nerves.” Lucien’s heart began thundering. Little sister? He quickly glanced at the high Fae surrounding him. A few blinks from Mor and Feyre were the only shock any of them seemed to show.

“You seem to be going mad,” Lucien grumbled, “We don’t have a…” He paused as his focused turned towards Keir’s son, who gestured as if calling someone over. Ice filled his veins as a young female stepped forward who no doubt looked like Lucien, yet so many features resembled his mother as well. His confusion was pushed aside as horror raced through him when he took in her state. Her long fiery hair fell in naturally loose curls down her back, a braid crowning her head as she wore a simple black gown. But her skin was unnaturally pale, her eyes sunken in with dark color circled under them. She looked so unhealthily thin, seemingly drowning in the fabric she wore. The worst of it was the brutally damaged tissue that wrapped around her right shoulder, ran down her arm and covered her frail hand as well. She had clearly been burned, leaving permanent scars. He even spotted a few bruises scattered across her skin. Was this his sister? How had he never known, and why was he never told. He watched as Kedron lifted his hand, grazing a knuckle across her moon white skin. The girl blinked a few times turning her gaze away at his touch. His other hand lay on her waist and a damning smile fell across his lips.

“Eleanor Vanserra, my future wife. She truly is a beautiful thing, isn’t she?” Lucien couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think properly as he just stared. She was to be married to Kedron, and the thought made bile rise in his throat. Just the thought of what they already seemed to have done to her was too much. He felt Azriel’s hold relax as he studied the girl, Eleanor, as well.

It suddenly all made sense. This was Elain’s vision, at least in part. This was why she had felt so strongly he should have come. To meet this girl. His sister.

“Are you out of your Cauldron damned mind?” Lucien did not flinch as the shouts of Rhys reached his ears once they had all landed back in Velaris, safely in the town house. “For the Mother’s sake what were you thinking attacking Eris like that? We said to keep low,” he almost snarled. Feyre stepped up to Rhy’s side, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, no doubt trying to calm him. The others simply watched the interaction, not saying a word.

“I was provoked,” was all Lucien said. He was in a state of shock, and could not bring himself to defend his actions more than that. Rhys huffed out, running fingers through his night black hair, relaxing ever so slightly. The commander and other two Archeron sisters made their way down the stairs at the commotion.

“Like Feyre said, he deserved it. In fact, maybe Lucien was a little merciful on him,” Mor replied, falling back onto the plush couch in the living room and examined her nails. Lucien let out a soft snort. He couldn’t disagree with her on that.

Elain made her way swiftly to his side, wrapping her soft hand in his own. She asked the question he was sure the others wanted to know as well. “What happened?”

So, Lucien began telling her exactly what he had done, exactly what had been said and done to him. “Your vision was me and my sister, Elain. It was me and my sister meeting.” His fingers squeezed lightly as he spoke. The iron grip of shock did not leave his body as the girl, Eleanor, his sister flashed through his mind. Horror held firmly as he remembered the state of her body. He could not shake those eyes that just stared at him, but did not quite see. Eyes full of every ounce of pain she had endured and was enduring.

“How could you have not known you had a sister?” Cassian mumbled, arms crossed over his well-defined chest. Pity flashed in his eyes as Lucien recalled what he had seen.

Lucien’s lips parted as if he were about to speak, but no words fell. He had asked the same question the moment they stepped from the Court of Nightmares and he didn’t quite have an answer. Guilt began to rise in his chest. Guilt that he had not known about her, guilt that he could not have saved her from the horrors she surely went through at the Autumn court, and the horrors she was surely going through now.

“She’s young even for Fae standards. She can’t be more than eighty maybe ninety. I have little contact with my family in the Autumn Court, even now.” Lucien tried to rake through his thoughts, putting them in whatever orderly way he could manage. “We have to bring her here, or somewhere safe,” he mumbled, running a hand through his long hair, frantically looking between everyone in that room.

“Lucien, we can’t just…” Rhys could not finish his sentence before Lucien yelled.

“We have to save her!”

Ella could no longer bring herself to care about anything as they made their long journey back. She could no longer bring herself to feel anything as they arrived after days on the road. She grew number, and emptier with each rise and fall of the sun, and nothing could fill the shell she had become. She let them talk to her, only putting in what effort she must. She let them do what they wished with her. She let Kedron touch her as he pleased. She was too exhausted with fighting within herself, so tired of begging and pleading, only to have it do nothing to save her. She didn’t believe she had the strength to do it all anymore, even if she wanted to. Her skin only grew paler each day she was surrounded by these mountains. She became even thinner with each meal she refused to eat. She became more calloused to the world with each bruise on her skin, each crude name she was called, and each intimate touch Kedron lay on her skin at night for his own pleasure.

It had been a month since she had left The Autumn Court and the wedding was steadily growing nearer. At first, they sought her opinion on matters for the event, showing an ounce of kindness, but when she would give nothing more than a short nod of her head they stopped bothering. Everything would be black and gold, even the hall, lit only by flickering candles. Maybe before she would have laughed at the irony of it all. For her, black was a color of mourning and death not the color for a joyous union of two souls. But it seemed only fitting for the occasion in this court, for this would be a union, but certainly not a joyous one.

“You have not eaten anything for two weeks, you must eat now.” Ella only drifted her eyes to Keir as he spoke at dinner that evening. To anyone else his words might have been laced with worry and kindness, but she knew better than that. She heard the command and threat in his tone. Maybe he was scared she was making herself waste away, and scared that would ruin everything. Ella couldn’t find it in herself to deny that claim if it was what he thought. Maybe that was her plan from the moment she left for this dreaded place. She placed her silverware by her plate, no longer bothering to make it even look as if she was eating.

“Eleanor, you are to eat something immediately,” he growled like a feral beast when she had dropped her hands into her lap. Ella silently looked down at her still full plate, unmoving. If she tried to get anything down she knew it would only come back up later. She only flinched slightly at the sudden scrape of chair against stone as he made forward to grab her roughly out of her own seat. “You don’t have to make this difficult. Eat. Now. You cannot starve yourself,” he snarled gripping tighter. Her gaze flickered momentarily to Kedron, but he remained as still as her. Nothing flashed upon his face to give away his emotions. One small whimper fell from her lips as Keir yanked her to the door, his patience spread far too thin now. “Your little act will not get you anywhere and I’m tired of it. We’ll see how willing you are to do as I say when I’m done.”

For the first time in a month, she had screamed as each crack of the whip hit her skin. For the first time in a month, she had begged with each added blow of his fist. For the first time in a month, she had cried as he slammed the door shut to the empty room, leaving her alone with nothing but her wounds and suffocating darkness. Kedron did not come for her that night, nor anyone else.

Lucien studied his mate as they both lie there together, being covered in nothing but sheets and moonlight. He ran his long fingers through the strands of her golden-brown hair and placed a tender kiss on top of her head. Despite their activities she still smelled like wildflowers and her scent was intoxicating. He would never cease to be amazed by the woman he got to hold in his arms every night. By her beauty, and kindness and gentleness, and the simple fact that she chose him. It was he who she wanted to be with for eternity.

“I love you, my Dove,” he whispered softly into her ear, kissing the back of it where he knew she liked to be kissed. She giggled softly as her head fell back to look up at him, her hand stilled in the middle of his chest.

“I love you too, Fox Boy.” He chuckled deeply at her reply, and pressed his lips to hers before pulling away slightly. There was a shift in her mood, he could tell, he could always tell with her. Something like worry rippled through the bond and he sat up.

“What’s wrong, Love?” He asked softly pulling a strand of loose hair back behind her ear. She opened her mouth as if ready to deny anything was wrong, but those beautiful lips snapped close. She knew there was no hiding anything from her mate.

“It’s just, I-“ Elain sat up as well, clinging tightly to the silk sheet wrapped around her body. Lucien’s hand wrapped reassuringly around her much smaller one.

“You know you can tell me anything,” he whispered softly and leaned forward to press another tender kiss at the corner of her mouth, hoping to make her relax.

“I had a vision today,” she paused a moment, looking everywhere but up at his russet eye. Though it had been years since Elain had gained her powers as a Seer, Lucien knew she still grew nervous and confused at times when visions would appear. Especially uncertain ones she could not understand on her own.

“Would you like to wait until the others can hear it in the morning?” He asked, rubbing a thumb lovingly around the back of her smooth hand. She shook her head, loosening strands of hair into her face.

“I don’t think this is something for them to hear,” she paused for a moment more, “You were in it,” she spoke quickly.

“Oh.” He understood now. He sat up a bit straighter, but did not remove his hand from hers. Elain took a deep breath before finally meeting his gaze.

“It was you and this girl. She looked so much like you, and your mother. Albeit much smaller and she looked so young.” Her brows furrowed as she tried to recall the vision, “There was flames surrounding you both and this darkness that seemed to just swallow the girl, and she was just screaming and screaming.” Elain tore her gaze from his again, beginning to play with his fingers like she so often did when she grew nervous. “That’s…that’s all there was.” Lucien knew there was something more, but if she did not want to say he would not push her. He reached up with his free hand and ran a thumb across her cheek, kissing her head once more.

“I know it’ll make sense soon, it’ll be okay,” he whispered against her skin, placing tender kisses along her face, finally placing his lips on hers. Lucien began kissing along her jaw as he gently pushed her back against the pillows, his lips inching lower down her neck. His hand trailed from the side of her face, down across her shoulder and collar bone, holding her hips as he traced gentle circles on the smooth skin.

“Let’s talk about it more in the morning,” Elain whimpered out as she fell into his blissful touch, lacing her fingers into his long hair. Lucien eagerly agreed as he met her feverish kiss.

Ella shot up immediately, awaking from her nightmare. She was breathing heavily and panic only grew when she did not recognize where she lie. She could see nothing, and she did not know if it was still night or if morning had finally come. The night before came back abruptly, and she realized she had not left the cold room Keir had put her in. She had fallen asleep on the stone floor and every muscle in her ached terribly. Ella gasped and fell forward as the pain in her back exploded, and she cried out once more. She begged the Mother to relieve the pain in any way she saw fit. Tears continued to wet her cheeks, and she did not know how much longer she would have to stay here. She tried to keep the images of her nightmare away, but they pushed forward, tormenting her even as she was awake. Images of Mr. Soarven’s fate, images and fears of her mother sharing the same one playing over and over. Relief flooded her as light from the opening door fell across the room. Someone was here to help her. She managed to lean up on her knees, watching the fae step closer to her.

“Eleanor,” Kedron’s voice spoke, leaning down to cup her chin in his hand once he reached her.

“Kedron?” Her voice was hardly above a whisper, cracking from her screams and cries. “Please, make it stop,” she begged. Kedron wrapped his hand around her arm, helping her stand on her own two feet. He led her out into the torch lit halls and she followed him.

“You learned your lesson, didn’t you?” Ella’s brows furrowed at his question, blinking a few times in surprise. He saw her confusion and clarified, “You understand you must obey me and my father’s orders or this will happen again, right?” She could not tell if his tone was threatening, but she reluctantly nodded. She could not trust her voice to speak again. They finally reached the bathing rooms and Kedron urged her to sit at the edge of the bathing pool.

“Come, take the remains of your dress off and I’ll clean your back as best I can.” She hesitated, but drew the fabric away from her body as he turned to find a cloth to wet. She sat on the edge of the pool, trying to ignore the spreading pain as she waited. Kedron found the supplies he was searching for and came to sit behind her.

“I’m sorry this had to happen, Eleanor.” He spoke as he dipped the cloth into the warm water. Ella could not tell if he truly was. She hissed and arched her back violently as he began wiping the dried blood away from her skin.

“I cannot help if you do not stay still. I know it hurts.” His free hand reached for her upper arm, tracing patterns in what she supposed was a comforting touch. She shivered trying not to flinch away from the contact. Her fist clinched tightly around the dirty fabric of the gown she had worn as he resumed his work on her wounds. She watched from the corner of her eye as he placed the bloodied cloth aside, reaching for a tin of what she assumed was salve.

“This will sting a little more,” he warned before pressing it lightly against her skin. She hissed once more and fought back the tears threatening to spill. She would not cry any more than she already had in front of him. After a few more moments of silence Kedron finally stood back up, finished at last.

“That’ll do for now until a healer can see you later. You must get dressed as my father expects you at breakfast.” Kedron lifted a hand out for Eleanor to grab, helping her away from the edge of the pool onto your feet. Ella took a deep shuddering breath and took the robe he now offered her.

“He expects you to be on your best behavior, Eleanor.”

Ella’s knees hit the soft plush rug in her sleeping chambers. Her hands shook as she clutched the silken fabric of what remained of her burgundy gown, trying desperately to calm herself. She closed her eyes and her nose scrunched up, with her brows furrowing as pain shot threw her bruising wrist and burnt skin. She refused to cry, even in the safety of the four walls of her chambers. She could never truly be safe anywhere in the Autumn Court.

Her four remaining brothers had cornered her in the halls and she hadn’t known what to do. Flames had danced around her fingers when Eris had meant to grab her, burning his hand terribly before he could fight back with his own fire. She didn’t know how she had created that burning flames, she couldn’t summon it on her own. She had never been properly trained, and had never been allowed to explore the depths of her own powers. Ella had received a harsh slap from her eldest brother, and fire far worse than her own danced on her own pale skin. The bruises on her wrist had been from her three other brothers’ hands as they kept her from thrashing. Her shoulders and arms ached most from the burns, her throat sore from her screaming but her face remained unharmed besides the forming bruise from the first blow.

“Stupid, useless flames. Only coming to cause me trouble instead of true protection,” she muttered, her voice laced with anger as she studied her frail hands, speaking as if her powers were a living being.

Maybe she was going insane. Her eyes immediately shot up as the chimes of the clock struck noon. She had a dancing lesson in only ten minutes, and her instructor would not be happy if she was late. She examined the injuries scattered across her skin once more and decided she would have to take care of them later. The flushed pink silk of her dance wear was cool against her burning skin and its skirts caressed her thighs with a gentle touch. She placed her feet into her worn dancing slippers, and leaped up as she wrapped a dark colored cloak around her.

“To keep warm in the cold halls,” she would say softly if anyone noticed her.

She was ready for an escape, even though it was only for a few hours. Dancing was the one thing that kept the burning light deep in her core lit through the years of her life she had spent living in the cruel manor. The one thing that brought her joy beyond measure. She knew only her mother would understand and gladly accept that it wasn’t a waste of time, or a useless activity. Oh, the Cauldron knew her father, especially, would not agree. She refused to ever think about what he would do if he found out. Her father would be more than happy to ruin the one thing left that kept the fire in her heart alive simply out of spite, knowing how much it would destroy her. As Ella made her way through the long and winding halls, a fond smile grew upon her lips at the memory of when she first started dancing.

She was young when her mother brought up the topic of dancing lessons. Ella had always been a bubbly and spirited girl, who could never stand still for more than a moment. She was always humming a gentle tune, her small feet gracefully moving on the marble floors. Ella often danced around her mother, with the skirts of her dress swirling around, soft giggles falling from her lips and an innocent smile on her face. She always had such grand beauty in her, not simply in her looks, but the very essence in her made so many stop and stare in awe and wonder. Nothing could dampen the spirits of young Ella, for she had not fully experienced the harsh reality of the world yet. That day her mother swept the dancing girl into her thin arms, like she so often did, placing a tender kiss onto her forehead.

“Oh, my bright dancing light, how I love you,” her mother had whispered softly with a joyous smile. “How about we put all that wild spirit and dancing to good use, little one?” She turned her head to kiss the small hand now pressed softly against her cheek. “I’ll find you the greatest instructor in all of Prythian for you my love, and you’ll be able to dance for hours on end, and truly learn the art.” The Lady of the Autumn Court had seen that passion growing inside of Ella for a long while, and she would risk anything to let it grow in the young girl. Even though her husband would never approve.

“You can do that mommy?” The little girl asked, eyes brightening as she hugged her mother tightly with pure joy glowing on her face.

“I’d do anything for you my beautiful girl,” she whispered in Ella’s ear, peppering soft kisses around her rosy cheeks.

And her mother did just that. She found the greatest instructor she could. He had come from the Spring Court, and together they had honed her skills, sharpening them like a steel blade. Despite the risk, he had stayed, and Ella would forever be in debt to him. She would forever be grateful for the years he had put into her, helping her grow. Forever grateful for the haven he gave her in the world she knew, that felt like a hell.

“You’re late,” was all that her instructor said when she entered the secluded room on the other side of the manor, far enough away that anyone of importance could not see or hear them. He was never one for many words, but she could hear the slight concern in his tone. She had never been late before. Ever.

“My deepest apologies, Mr. Soarven, it won’t happen again,” she said quickly, removing her cloak as she took her spot in the middle of the room. She stared for a moment at the glass covered wall, taking in her reflection. She didn’t bother with any excuses, knowing they were all lies anyway, and he would see right through them. He took a step towards her, nodding his understanding and gestured for Ella to begin. Ella quickly started her regular routine, loosening her muscles for the work she was about to do. As she studied her dance instructor, his tall frame leaning over the musician’s shoulder at the piano bench, questions began brewing in her mind. She watched as they shuffled through many sheets of music, deciding on which songs would be played.

“Mr. Soarven, can I ask you a question?” Her voice fell into a soft whisper, suddenly feeling nervous about what she was going to ask. She didn’t mean to pry or get personal, she was only curious.

“Well you just did, dear, but you may ask another,” he chuckled softly as he straightened and turned to face her. Though he was straightforward, and often stern when he was teaching her, she knew he loved teasing and joking. A small smile stretched across her lips, as she continued her routine.

“Why do you stay here? I’m sure you had a life in the Spring Court, why put so much at risk living here, teaching only me?” Her nerves began bubbling up as she saw the shift in his features. There was a moment of pause before he finally answered.

“Your mother pays me a great deal you know.” He turned back to the sheets of music, flicking through them once again.

Ella let out a small, “Oh,” her dancing slippers becoming much more interesting than before. It was not like she didn’t know that already. Yet the comment still stung.

“But that is not the only reason I stay, as I can get payed anywhere else.” He turned to face her, “I can’t explain it Ella, but I stay because of you. There’s something deep in you that is so bright and powerful, and I can’t let that die out.” She began chewing the inside of her cheek, darting her gaze away from his again. “Nor did I have much of a life in my court, it was simply falling apart. The arts were hardly on anyone’s mind, let alone teaching them.”

The rest of her questions died away, as she nodded at his words, not having much else to reply with. Her warmups were done, and Mr. Soarven gave the cue for the music to start playing. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she lost herself in the melody, letting her legs and arms move to the gentle beat. Everything fell away except the notes filling her ears, the occasional correction from her instructor, and the steps her feet took across the room. The dance she had learned long ago, but would never forget. It was one of her favorites, and one that could pull her out of any darkness, and any despair. After many moments, the music stopped and her eyes opened. Only then did she realize that tears had welled in her golden eyes, overflowing onto her cheeks.

Ella’s heart beat raced in her chest as she dashed down the halls to the secluded dance room. No one had ever laid a hand on her like that before, she had never seen anyone so angry either.

She had just wanted her mother. She had awoken from a terrifying dream where everything was burning. There were screams, and cries of pain and terror, but she could stop nothing because the flames had surrounded her, licking at her smooth skin. She could have sworn that the flames released a cackling laugh. She shook her head violently, not wanting to remember any more of the horrid nightmare. After she had tossed and turned, she knew the only thing that could comfort her was her mother’s arms. Her small feet padded against the cool floor of the halls to where she knew her mother slept. Her white nightgown that fell past her knees swayed with her swift movements. As she got closer to her mother’s room, the unmissable sounds of screaming reached her ears. She grew more frightened by the loud noises as she got closer. Was something wrong with mommy? The shouting only increased when she reached the door and pushed it open slowly.

“How am I supposed to know you’re not being some gods damned whore, having affairs when you sneak out so many damn nights. Don’t you dare lie to me, I am not a fool!” Her father’s shouts made her flinch back, and she saw her mother pressed against the wall.

“Don’t speak to me like that,” The Lady of the Autumn Court spat, her hands on his chest ready to push back.  

“I am your husband, and I can speak to you how ever I very damn well please!” Beron’s voice only got louder with every threatening word.

“Maybe if you treated me like a decent high fae, I wouldn’t feel the need sneak around and run off!” Ella had never heard her mother yell before. She knew her father was capable of such things, but never her soft gentle mother. Why was he treating her like this? She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and wanted to cry out when the loud crack of a hand against skin reached her ears.

“Mommy,” her soft voice spoke, barely loud enough for even fae ears to hear, but her mother did. Her mother would always hear her voice.

Suddenly the screaming died down and her heart beat quickened. Her mother had tears streaming down her face as she started walking towards her child, but large, cold hands pulled her back roughly. Ella’s eyes widened, flickering between her sobbing mother, and quickly approaching father.

“Beron, I swear to the Cauldron if you lay a hand on my daughter I’ll-” her mother chocked out, not even finishing her sentence before long fingers curled around Ella’s chin, forcing her to meet her father’s gaze.

“Last time I checked, she was my daughter as well and I can do what I want with her.” His quiet, stern voice was a stark contrast from his screaming, but it scared her just as much. “Eleanor, you know you are not to leave your chambers at night, and you are never to come down these halls.” His fingers squeezed tighter with each venomous word. She cringed at the use of her real name and his touch. “I ought to give you a punishment for all this wild misbehavior lately.” His quiet anger radiated from his skin. She was shaking, tears falling as she tried to step away from him. A sharp pain shot through her face. He grabbed her wrist with an iron grip to keep her in place.

“She’s not misbehaving, she’s only being the child she is, Beron!” Her mother shouted as she stepped closer to them both, but some force held her back.

“She’s out of control, and I will not tolerate her behavior in my court and in my manor.” His icy fingers uncurled from her chin, but that small throbbing pain stayed. “This is a warning Eleanor, I can do far worse things if I feel that it is necessary, I promise you that,” Beron sneered and finally let go of her wrist that was surely to bruise from his hold.

She knew that was her cue to run. She wasn’t going to miss her chance to leave her father’s terrifying presence. She took one last glance at her frightened and screaming mother before her bare feet hit the ice-cold marble and she took off down the hall. She didn’t know where to go. It was clear she could not run to her mother’s arms, and she refused to go back to her dark and lonely room. That left the dancing room, which seemed like a far better option than any of the others. So, there she was, shaking against the bare walls, not noticing her dance instructor sitting at the piano until he had rushed to her side. Her small hands were immediately enveloped in his much larger ones, as he bent down on his knees so he was eye level with Ella. She didn’t know what to do, her body shook violently and the cascade of tears continued. Her small frame fell against his own, her arms on instinct going around the older’s neck. His long arms wrapped around her waist, giving her the embrace she was longing for. He was much too afraid to ask what had put her in that state. A million possibilities had raced through his mind, and none of them were good. They stayed like that for some time. The only sound was their breathing and an occasional mumble of ‘I’m afraid’ from the small girl.

“Let’s dance, little one, we’ll take your mind off everything,” he pulled back as he spoke and held her at an arm’s length. His thumb wiping away the tears falling on her skin. “I’ll even teach you a new piece I’ve been working on just for you. Especially since you’ve mastered your current dance so well these last few months.”  His smile was bright as he tapped her nose playfully. Ella’s brows furrowed, bringing a bunched hand to rub at her eyes.

“B-but I don’t have my dancing slippers,” she managed to stutter out, looking down at her bare feet as if only just noticing them.

“We’ll practice with them tomorrow, for now I’ll just teach you the basics.” She was still a little hesitant, but maybe dancing would tire her out, making sleep easier. Her fingers curled around her nightgown tightly as her eyes followed the lean frame of her dance instructor as he stood on his feet again. She listened to his instructions closely, getting in position in the middle of the room as always. She let him guide her through every beat, every step, every twirl. First with a simple four beat count, and when he no longer counted he hummed a sweet melody, like honey to her ears. He continued to lead her steps, as the tune fell from his lips. Dancing long into the earlier hours of the morning.

    They had worked on that piece every night that she awoke in a sweat, no longer able to sleep. Her nightmares being plagued with fire and shadows, and her own father. They practiced that piece every time that shining light inside of her seemed to flicker. She didn’t know how, or why, but he always knew when she needed it most.  As the shadows only grew, and the darkness that her mother so desperately tried to keep away from her flooded in, she no longer needed his guidance with the steps.

He would sit at the piano playing that melody, so much sweeter than the one that came from his mouth. From time to time when she needed a stronger distraction from those dark hours, they would add a new step making it more and more intricate. It was her own special dance, crafted just for her and it worked every time. She always left the room feeling a little lighter, shining a little more brightly.

She continued to catch her breath, looking at the glass covered wall. She refused to look at the bruise forming on her flesh. So much like the one her mother wore all those years ago, the one that her father had given her pressed against that wall. It had been so long since she had last heard that melody, and danced those steps. And like he always did, he knew when she needed it the most.

Every muscle under Ella’s skin ached when they finally stopped their lesson. Her injuries only made the pain increasingly worse, but she would never complain about that. Especially not to her instructor.

She had safely made it back to her room. The cloak wrapped around her shoulders had been shrugged to the floor on the way to the bathing room and she drew a much-needed bath. She made sure her injuries were taken care of once she was done, and dressed in a simple gown of burgundy once more. She tugged at the plain sleeves and made sure her burns and bruises were covered. For what reason, she did not know. It wasn’t like anyone would question them. Maybe she was simply afraid of her father’s curiosity of her burnt skin, and Eris revealing the use of her power. No matter how intentional or unintentional it was. She quickly turned to face the door as a servant rushed in.

With Ella’s gown pooling around her feet, and trailing behind her, she glided past the threshold of the dining room where she had been summoned for supper. She examined everyone that sat at the long table, now filled with plates and bowls piled high with the finest Autumn Court food. Her father sat in a tall backed chair at the head of the table, his elbow placed casually on its arm rest. He gestured with the same hand for her to come forward and she obeyed. Ella made her way towards her usual seat by her mother at the other end of the table. On one side of the High Lord sat her eldest brother, a bandage wrapped tightly around his damaged hand. Her other three brothers sat in the next seats to Eris’ left. On Beron’s right sat an older male she did not recognize, and next to him was an older Fae female, and another male who resembled a much younger version of the one sitting next to her father. She had not been told they would be expecting guest. If she had known she might have worn a finer dress then the one sure currently had on.

“Please, Eleanor, greet our guests, Keir and his family from Hewn City.” She could have sworn a smirk flashed across his face as his eyes met hers and he waved his hand towards the three High Fae.

Panic, and confusion etched into Ella’s features but only for a moment before her cool mask of indifference was back on. With her hands lifting her skirts, she placed her right foot behind her left and dipped her body into a curtsy before sliding into her own seat. She looked over at the younger Fae, before quickly turning away. A heat flushing across her face as she realized he was looking back. She had only heard rumors about Hewn City, and the dark cruelty of the Night Court. Even had heard whispers of what brutal things Keir himself did to his own daughter long before Ella was even born. Nothing she heard made her want to hear anything more, or be so close to its members. Her heart began racing at what Beron could possibly be planning, to have them here for dinner. She glanced over at her mother, searching for reassurance or comfort, but found only the mask she wore too often.

The dinner remained mostly silent, only Beron and Keir discussing unimportant matters of business throughout the hour. She couldn’t make herself eat anything, as she was much too overcome with nerves. Her silverware pushed around the meat and vegetables, at least making it appear as if she had at least a few bites. Another wave of silence washed over the room. The only sound reaching their ears was the clicking and scraping of metal on porcelain. She began to fidget in her seat as she felt the High Lord’s attention shift to her.

“I’m sure you’re awfully curious about why our guests are here this evening, aren’t you, Eleanor?” That icy smirk reappeared across his mouth as he set his own cutlery down. She squirmed more as her name left his lips. She hated it. Hated it because he was the only one that used her full name with such distaste. “After all, they are here because of you, my child.” Ella’s mouth went dry.

“We’ve decided to rekindle that alliance that was so unfortunately torn away from the both of us so many years ago.” Keir chuckled at Beron’s words, but it was not kind or joyful. It was full of bitterness. 

“Such unfortunate circumstances, but we shall not keep grudges against our own kin. I’m sure we won’t let such things happen again. Isn’t that right, Eleanor?” Her heart froze as the man looked straight at her.

Something in her core told her that he wouldn’t ever forgive his daughter for what she did with that bastard Illyrian boy. Ella’s mask was cracking, and if she did not reign herself in, it would shatter sooner rather than later. It all made sense now as she looked at the younger male who she now realized couldn’t be that much older than her. She was certainly of age to be sold off into some marriage, and she had come to terms long ago that it would happen. Everyone told her that it was what she was destined to do, the only thing she could do. Some small part of her had hoped, and dreamed it would be to a far kinder male who would treat her gently. She was quick to realize the Cauldron did not allow such hopes and dreams to come true.

“You are to be betrothed to the Keir’s son, Kedron. In turn doing a mighty service to your court.” She drew her lip between her teeth, and swallowed back words she knew she would only regret later.

Her gaze flicked back to her mother. The changes in her features were so minor, no one else would have noticed, but she knew her own mother and the look of pity and sorrow that flashed in those eyes. She didn’t want to leave, at least not to another hellish court. Here she had Mr. Soarven, dancing, and her mother. In the Night Court, she would have nothing and no one except the smothering darkness that was wrapping her up tighter and tighter. So many thoughts flooded her mind, so many words she wanted to say, but she didn’t dare question her father. Especially not in front of his guests.

She knew what the High Lord would do to her, and knew just how likely he was to destroy her if she ruined this. She felt so weak, and so small. She felt like prey being cornered by hungry, vicious wolves. She knew she should fight or yell or do something to put an end to this, to break free from the chains she’d dragged around for so long, but she couldn’t. Afraid, too terribly afraid, to fight for her own life. She had stopped fighting years ago, realizing the only thing it brought her was bruised and bloody skin and deeper wounds underneath. 

Her thoughts had consumed her and she did not realize everyone had risen from their seats. She quickly joined them, and caught her father’s movements from the corner of her eyes. He stood in front of her as his finger curled up under her chin, forcing her full attention to him. A tender kiss was placed on Ella’s forehead, one that could so easily be dismissed as a father’s loving affection. She forcefully stopped herself from cringing away from it.

“Good girl,” was all that he muttered before he stepped away towards the door, followed closely by Keir and their respective wives. Surely to grab a drink of some kind, and perhaps discuss more business. She was startled when a hand wrapped itself around her forearm, realizing it belonged to Keir’s son, who she now knew as Kedron.  

“Why don’t we go learn a little more about each other while we leave our fathers to their business.” His grip left little room for refusal and little chance to escape. She reluctantly nodded as he placed her arm on his and led her out. Like a gentleman, off with a woman he was courting. Perhaps that’s what they were now, but she refused to believe any offspring of Keir’s could ever be a gentleman.  They exited the grand dining room and started down the sprawling halls.

“Shall we take a tour around the manor? I’ve never been to the Autumn Court and this place is quite magnificent, I’d like to see more.” He chuckled patting her hand as if they had been friends for years and were sharing an old joke. She only nodded, too terrified of saying the wrong thing and having little to say in this interaction anyway.

“You’re a quiet thing aren’t you,” he chuckled again while glancing over to her, and a flush raced through her cheeks once more. She didn’t think it was a question left open for her to answer, simply an observation. Her stomach dropped as she felt his smooth knuckles glide across her once rosy cheeks.

“You’re a pretty thing as well,” he muttered as his emerald eyes grew hazy, and flickered from her own amber eyes to her pink lips and back again.

“A very pretty thing.” A lock of her long auburn hair, that fell in thick loose curls nearly down to her waist had been drawn around one of his long fingers. Her palms became clammy, as her thin hands curled tightly around the fabric of her gown, trying to keep herself calm and her tears at bay.

She did not like the gentle touches of men like him, she knew it would only lead to more violent things. Like the calm before a ferocious storm. A storm she could not take shelter from.

Ella did not realize the steps he was making towards her, or the steps her own feet were making backward until she hit the wall behind her. She had become cornered like so many times before as he braced his arm against the wall, inches away from her head. His other hand continued to graze her skin, travelling across her jaw, and neck, and collarbone. His touch paused as he peered up once more, a cruel smile on his face. She closed her eyes fiercely as she awaited that unwanted touch somewhere far more intimate or a physical blow. To her surprise, she felt his presence step away, and her eyes opened. He studied her for a few seconds more before they presumed their previous position and continued to walk down the halls.

“Yes, I think I’ll enjoy having you as my wife very much so,” he said with that smirk that made her gut twist.

Ella had lost track of the hours she lay in bed awake that night. Thoughts plagued her mind, tormenting her and chasing any morsel of sleep away. Kedron had wandered the halls of the manor with her for the remaining hours of the evening. She had stayed quiet for most of the walk, as Kedron did enough talking for them both. She only replied when he had a direct question for her, mainly questions about the manor or the High Lord or when something interested the Fae male. When he finally grew tired, they had circled back to the sitting room where their fathers spent their own evening. A few words were exchanged between the three males before servants were summoned to take the guests to where they would be staying the night. Ella had turned to leave for her own room once they had left, but her father’s deep tone had stopped her. As she lay awake, her now throbbing stomach was a reminder of his words and warning he had given her mere hours before. A promise that if she stepped out of line or did anything stupid he would do far worse.

She was as still as death staring up at the high ceilings in her sleeping chamber, letting her thoughts swirl in her mind. She did not weep, nor did she scream, even though every part of her body desperately ached to do so. She only clenched her fist tightly, not noticing the blood being drawn from small crescent shaped indents on her palm. Nor did she notice the creak of her opening door.  She did not notice anything until she felt the smooth hands of her mother, and a dip in the mattress. Ella turned her head to look at her, not yet speaking or making a sound. The moonlight flooding in from her balcony doors highlighted the features that were so much like her own. She could see the tears welling up in her mother’s eyes as she placed her hand atop Ella’s, squeezing softly. She finally gave into that desperation to weep, that well of emotion that had been steadily growing deeper. She could no longer control herself as she sat up and tightly embraced her mother sitting beside her, and only wept more when her mother brought her closer and held her just as tight. Ella’s tears soaked the fabric of her mother’s robe, but if she minded she did not let on. She couldn’t even remember the last time her mother had held her, or even the last time she allowed herself to cry out.  

“Oh, my sweet darling Ella,” her mother whispered and placed a hand atop the head now buried in the crook of her neck. She tenderly ran fingers through the loose curls hoping to give some comfort to her daughter. Ella clutched tightly to the silk of her attire, wanting to scream and cry out so all of Prythian could know how she really felt, but she kept quiet besides the sobs wracking her body.

Ella did not know how long they both sat there together, tightly wrapped up in each other’s arms and both weeping. She did not realize how desperately she needed this, or how much the shadows smothered out that light inside of her. Now it was nothing more than a flickering candle surrounded by a starless and moonless night. It only dimmed with each passing hour. She met her mother’s eyes when she heard her speak.

“Oh Ella, I tried so hard, the Cauldron knows how I tried.” She placed her palm on her cheek rubbing her thumb in a loving caress. “The thought of you so full of hope and life, to only make down the same path as mine in the end, makes me sick,” she chocked out.

“Something changed when you were born. My very first daughter. I was so afraid for you, my dear, afraid you could not thrive under the oppression and cruelty of this court. But for so many years you were the brightest thing in all of Prythian. You loved like no one I had ever seen. You had hope dwelling in you, and an unbreakable joy.” Ella listened closely to every word her mother spoke, devouring them.

“But then that night, the night you walked in on what Beron was doing to me, I knew something changed. Oh Gods, I have nightmares of the pure terror on your face when Beron came up to you and threatened you, and the fact I could do nothing.” The Autumn Court Lady shook her head as if to get rid of the images in her mind. “I tried so desperately to get to you and comfort you, but he locked me up like some damned criminal.” Ella clung tighter as she to remembered the terror that filled her when she opened that door, and her father threatened her so.

“I felt like I failed you as I watched and could do nothing as Beron carved you into a shell of the child you once were, with the help of your brothers. As he beat the discipline and brutality of the Autumn Court into you, trying to shape you into his twisted version of who he thought you should be.” Her mother could hardly speak as more tears fell down her pale skin.

“Every time I tried to interfere and help you, or even try and comfort you, he would only turn on you ten-fold.” She grew silent, only shaking as she placed Ella’s head back onto her shoulder. Ella did not know if the embrace was for her own comfort or for the sobbing women beside her.

“If I had only kept my Cauldron damned mouth shut this wouldn’t have happened. He knew how much this betrothal would destroy you, he knew how much it would destroy me when you left,” her mother’s voice rose, but only slightly as not to disturb her. Ella sat up and studied her, the pain so clear in her features. This couldn’t have been her mother’s fault at all. Surely her cruel fate had been planned by the Mother decades before she was even born.

“Let me tell you this my dear Ella,“ she took a deep breath before touching her cheek once more, making sure Ella understood, “Please do not let that light burn out. Please do not lose that ability to see the good in this world and the ability to be kind and gentle. Even when everything within you has been crushed, torn apart, and shredded by those who should only give you love.“ Ella nodded her head, tears glistening in her eyes once more. She didn’t know if she could, but she would try for her mother. Anything for her mother.

“You are so strong my sweet Ella, so strong and I know it’s still in you, my love, even if it feels like it has been ripped away. That light will guide you, but only if you let it.” She placed a tender kiss on her forehead, placing the fallen strands of her braid behind her pointed ears.

Ella had fallen asleep in the arms of her mother that night. After the words they exchanged, they grew quiet. But they did not need words, their embrace was enough. For the first night in many years her sleep was not plagued by nightmares and she had slept soundly.

When she had awoken, tucked warmly under her covers, her mother was no longer there, but the bed was still warm where she had lay. Despite the roaring pain from her still healing burns, and the weight that felt like a thousand pounds pressing on her shoulders, she crawled out of bed and dressed. Her mother had informed her that she was to be swept away today. She felt that black was the only fitting color to wear. The color of mourning. She wished to say goodbye to only one other person before she left.

She made the familiar walk from her chambers to the dancing room. The music that was played for her lessons beginning to sound in her mind, she could not help but hum one of the tunes. She pictured the steps that went with the melody, and longed to dance it at least once more. She finally reached her destination in search of Mr. Soarven, but horror ran wild through her as she stepped through that door. The room was a disaster. Music sheets thrown everywhere, shattered glass scattered across the floor from the mirrored wall, the piano bench splintered in pieces throughout the room. The beautiful instrument itself wrecked beyond repair, along with the many other instruments that resided in the room. Her hand flew to her mouth, stepping back in shock. Icy fear coursed through her veins when she hit a hard chest and felt a hand grabbing hold of her forearm.

“He put up quite a fight you know,” a dark chuckle reached her ears as she turned around to meet her father. “Decided he wouldn’t die without a fight.” Die. Dead. Was he dead? Her heart thundered wildly as she ripped her arm away from his grip, and brought it close to her chest. Rage now coursed through her, as she began to tremble.

“What did you do?” She seethed, demanding answers. She wanted to grab him and hurt him so badly. Hurt him like he had hurt her for so long.

“He was executed at dawn, for a list of treasons a mile long. Having an affair with my wife being at the top of that list.” A rage equal to hers flashed in his eyes at those last words. It suddenly became too hard to breath, and she felt bile rise in her throat. She was not upset at her mother, she was not upset at Soarven either if what Beron claimed was true, she understood. She only felt fury for the man that stood in front of her.

“You’re a monster. Nothing but a cold, repulsive monster,” she sneered and was so overcome with resentment she did not notice the flames leaping among her fingers, and up her arms. The flames that were now reaching out for the High Lord. She caught the flicker of panic in Beron’s eyes before she fell to her knees among the shattered glass and splintered wood. As quickly as the rage had come, it rushed out of her along with the fire in her hands. She felt numb, and empty, and so utterly alone. Silent tears began to fall as she stumbled forward, unable to keep straight any longer. She did not care as the shards and splinters dug into her small hands, drawing blood. She did not care as her father began shouting at her to get up. She did not care as her two eldest brothers came in and dragged her out of the room. She did not care. She did not care. She did not care.