A Court of Light and Fire

Chapter 1

Author's note:

I pulled an SJM and used the word "ribbon" to describe something that definitely isn't ribbon-like. Did anyone else pay attention to how often she used that word in her books, or just me? Also we get to meet our second fav bat boy in this chapter. Or third, depending on the mood or time of day or which book I've recently read.

-----PRESENT DAY------------

POV: Alina

It was springtime in the Illyrian mountains, and as Alina watched the sunrises each morning from her small home tucked away in a small valley miles from the nearest village, Windhaven, she could feel the earth thawing around her. Small poppies and tulips started to bud through the snow, and frequently her peaceful quiet was interrupted by the sounds of snow drifts cascading down the nearby mountains or the steady drip of water as the icicles decorating her roof started to recede day by day.

Alina hated the winter and everything to do with it, and sometimes she wondered to herself how she ended up living alone in the Illyrian mountains, deep in the Night Court, of all places. The path that brought her here was a winding one marked with as many grand adventures as there were lonely, lost nights. Even still, with all her dislike of the dark and cold that came with living in a place such as this, she found a deeper peace here than she had ever known anywhere else. Here, no one bothered her. Here, no one tried to take advantage of her. Though she was alone, she was free.

The Illyrian males made their distaste of Alina and her independent lifestyle clear enough whenever she frequented Windhaven, but after so many years of not putting up with their bullshit standard for women, even they began to just leave her alone and look the other way. When you spend a lifetime getting funny looks from males and females alike, eventually they stop being something you worry about. Anywhere Alina went, she could never blend in even if she tried. If it wasn't the bright sapphire eyes and near waist-length auburn red hair, then it was certainly the massive feathered white wings that faded to an auburn brown at the bottom that made her stick out in the crowd. Before she settled in Illyria all those years ago, she did enough searching and looking to know that no one else in the Night Court or even Prythian had wings like hers. The people that dared ask her why her wings looked so different only got back a blank stare in response – not because she didn't want to answer, but because she simply didn't know how to. One of the earliest and only memories from her adolescence almost 500 years ago was the day she searched the battlegrounds of the war and found her parents' lifeless bodies lying together and already covered in a thin layer of frost. Since then she had been on her own in a strange land she later learned was Prythian, with no significant memories of how or when she got there or where she might have come from.

Alina prepared for her weekly trip into the nearby village by packing her herbs and freshly cut flowers into a basket and dressing herself in Illyrian leathers and a thick wool cloak that she had to carefully fasten around her wings. She checked to make sure the knives she always carried strapped to her hip were in place, and fidgeted with the bright red gem on her necklace. This time of year the thin springtime air was slowly warming but still frigid, and although her flight to the village was only a few miles, she would still often have frozen eyelashes by the time she landed. One perk of her larger and feathered wings, she'd found, was that she could fly much faster and farther than her Illyrian counterparts, and the chill of the air felt much less biting. Alina grabbed the money she needed for the food she intended to buy as well as the seeds for planting in her garden. If there was one thing in this cold, gods-forsaken place that brought Alina true contentment, it was her plants and her garden. In the summer, she'd plant all sorts of vegetables in the fields by her home and harvest them to sell at the village in the early autumn. Centuries ago when she spent some time in the Winter Court, she learned about greenhouses and how to care for all kinds of plants; what climate they needed, what kind of soil, which plants were poisonous and which plants were just for decoration. Now, she had a greenhouse of her own, and spent her time tending to the herbs and flowers that she sold so often to the market during her village trips.

Alina's flight to the village was its usual quiet and peaceful, and she got a good price on the sage and mint herbs she had brought to the market to sell. The little old lady at the market was often the only person from the village that ever spoke to Alina, and she found herself looking forward to the soft smiles and light conversation that the two of them always had about their passion for plants. Alina couldn't help but feel sadness whenever she saw the old lady's clipped wings, withered and ragged looking from the centuries of disuse. To not feel the rush of the cold air under her wings, to not ever be able to see the sun set over the clouds or witness the peaceful stillness of the night sky as it lit up with gorgeous ribbons of green lights... Alina couldn't imagine anything worse. Her village trips always reminded her of the brutality and infuriating misogyny that the Illyrians prided themselves on. With her good mood plummeting, she left the market and began her walk back through the village.

Why did I decide to live here again? She thought to herself as she closed the market door and turned to make her way back down the village path.

Because I'm the world's biggest idio- "Hrmph!" she exclaimed as she accidentally barreled right into a winged male in the middle of hanging a flier on the corkboard next to the market entrance.

Good gods running into him felt like hitting a wall of fucking stone. Alina took in his hazel eyes, his jet black shoulder length hair, and his tan, muscular build. He seemed to be taking in her too, with a mixed look of confusion and awe on his face.

Must be the wings. Why are all men the same. Alina's thoughts were interrupted by a smirk that finally crossed his face. "Like what you see?"

"Ugh." Alina sighed as she rolled her eyes and turned back toward the village path in the direction of her home.

"Wait!" He followed after her, ignoring the disdainful and judgmental looks from the village passersby. Alina turned toward him, preparing herself for having to pull out her knives if needed, but was surprised by his next words.

"We're trying to start a training class for the Illyrian women. Just basic fighting maneuvers. Self-defense moves. Weapons training, maybe even some flying stuff too. I see you carry those knives. Would you be interested in going?"

Alina looked for any hint of a joke in his face, but could find none. He was being sincere. He must have seen her surprise, because he handed her one of the fliers he was hanging up moments ago.

He continued on. "We're trying to recruit as many women as possible. It's just once a week to start. Me and one of my friends will be the instructors. I'm Cassian"

She was at a loss for words, and was vaguely aware that she was holding her mouth open like a dumbfounded fish out of water. Finally she got herself together and responded.

"Um, Alina. And yeah I'll think about it. Thanks"

The smile that erupted on his face was dazzling. "Great! First class is the day after tomorrow. I'll see you there!" She thought about calling after him that she hadn't actually committed to going, but he was already walking away, whistling an upbeat tune and getting ready to hang the next flier. With a sigh, she readjusted her basket, checked her knives and necklace one last time, and took to the skies for her flight back home.

Well this will be interesting.

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Second author's note... I'm writing these chapters and publishing as I go. This fic is brand new and is also my first, so if you have any comments, recommendations, or ConStRuCtIvE criticism I'm all ears!