A Love So Sordid and True

The Web Fate Weaves

Tamlin sighs heavily as he fidgets with his white suit, uncomfortable and unflowing like the clothes he usually wears. He picks up the ridiculous masquerade mask that goes with it and rolls his eyes, not putting it on quite yet. It is the night of the Winter Court's annual Winter Solstice ball, and like usual, his father refuses to attend things so "stupid and trivial." That, of course, means his mother won't attend either. A testament to her undying devotion to his vile father. This year, they had chosen him to go as the representative of the Spring Court, his father sending him a venom-laced warning not to fuck up their reputation. This year has a masquerade theme.

Every other Court attends, though, Spring, Autumn, and Night send representatives, the three worst High Lords never daring to entertain anything enjoyable. Gods forbid. At least Rhysand will be there. He hasn't seen him since the war band dissolved. It made for an extremely volatile High Lord of Spring and of Night, both forever at odds. Honestly, their friendship had come as a shocking surprise, both of them assuming the absolute worst of each other when they had met. Funny enough, they had more in common than they thought and quickly became allies and friends.

Brushing out his hair for the millionth time, he looks in the mirror, correcting his posture when he hears his mother's voice behind him.

"Stand up straight, Tam", she scolds, walking over and placing her hands on his shoulders.

"I am", he mutters.

"Now you are."

"I don't know why I have to go. I'm...he doesn't care, Mother. He never has."

She looses a sigh and shakes her head. "Because all the other Courts will be there and sending courtiers is beginning to look lazy. You are our son, so you are more acceptable."

"Yeah...the son that isn't remembered until he's useful."

"Tamlin", she gasps.

"Oh please, don't fake offense, Mother. You know it's true as much as I do, and frankly, I don't mind living in the shadows. It takes me out of his line of sight, and therefore his rage. The same goes for Calun and Duncan. I'm sick of their assaults. I am tired, Mom", he whispers.

"Go to the ball. Enjoy yourself. Maybe make a friend or two. Just have fun, tonight. Ok?" She grabs the initialed metal hairbrush and begins to brush his hair the way she used to when he was a child. He blushes slightly but doesn't move away. "I hope you know that I want the best for you, always."

"I know", he mumbles, his chest tightening with emotion. "I just..." he trails off, not even having the nerve to express how much he wishes there was a way out for her and for him, and that they could make it on their own.

"I know, too", she whispers, turning him towards her, her aging face soft and loving. "But there are—"

"Duties, yeah. Of course, there are."

"Tamlin..."

"I should get going."

"Yes", she replies simply, placing his brush back on his vanity.

Without so much as a look back, he winnows from his room to the Winter Court border.

.

.

.

Led through the gates and up to the large hall of the Winter Court palace, Tamlin quickly slips the mask over his face and takes his place among the other High Fae, trying as best as possible to blend in. Meandering near the hors d'oeuvres table, he takes in the massive crowd of High Fae spinning around with the music already, lovers in each other's arms and friends laughing and talking.