𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐍 ━━━ ✧ ⋆ （ acotar ）

✧ ˚ 𝐯𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠

✧ ˚ 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 of moments for Asteria.

There were days that were more difficult than othersㅡdays where her mind was on autopilot and she scarcely left their room, and there were some that were easier. It was on those days that Asteria actually allowed Lucien supervise visits to the gardens. She never let herself go any further than that, nor did she ever go outside alone.

Reading helped, and so did learning with Feyre. Books had always served as a way for her to escape reality, and Asteria found that it was far easier to collect her thoughts after she had finished a story or even just a chapter.

It was hard to read the passage of time in the Spring Court. Unlike the mortal realm, where it was rather easy to tell when the season had changed with the falling of leaves or snow sticking to the ground, the Spring Court, as the name would suggest, was stuck in a perpetual state of Spring. For this reason, Asteria hadn't realized her birthday was approaching until Feyre brought it up one night during supper.

"Asteria's birthday is coming up," she said to Tamlin, leaning back in her chair and swirling the contents of her chalice. Asteria's head lifted at the mention of her name, eyes widening at the reminder. "Next week, actually."

"Is that so?" Tamlin quirked his brow underneath his golden mask as he turned towards her.

The corner of Lucien's mouth drew upward as he gave her a smirk. "Eighteen is an important age for humans, no?"

Asteria hesitated, sending an apprehensive glance to her sister. Feyre gave her an encouraging nod, a gentle smile playing at her lips.

"I suppose it is," she admitted after a moment had passed.

Eighteen was considered by most to be the ideal marrying age for women. Poorer families usually gave more leeway to their daughters, as evidence with her own sisters, but the sentiment was still very much there. And by the time women were twenty-five, they were thought to be worthless.

"I can have my servants prepare something for the occasion," Tamlin spoke, giving her a surprisingly welcomed smile. She'd grown to appreciate his presence more in the past few weeks, though it was still hard for her to start conversations with him. He was trying, though, and she couldn't fault him for that.

Asteria remembered what Feyre had told her the month previous at his words. High Lord. "Which day is it, exactly, so they might prepare properly?"

Tamlin rose his chalice to his lips to take a slow sip, but froze, very briefly, when Feyre answered. "March nineteenth."

Asteria watched, confused, as he and Lucien shared a long look. Something hidden flashed in their eyes, but the moment was gone before she could dissect it any further.

"I'll let them know," Tamlin said with a wave of his hand, though his voice was strangely tense.

And that was that.