𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
: ̗̀➛ In 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 the younger twin of Feyre Archeron
has to fight through the thorns of roses just
to survive.
〔Azriel x oc〕
╰┈˚ · ° . slowburn!
...
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𝟑 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧
╰┈˚ · ° . IT HAD NEVER BEEN A SECRET the fact that Spring Court never resonated with me, but I had come to realize that in the last few weeks, it felt entirely different from before.
The only thing that I could pin-point that had not in fact changed after our return from Under the Mountain was the always-present flower scented perfume of the Court and the spring color themed palette.
Busy with many duties, Tamlin spent the majority of his time juggling between rebuilding structures, meeting with the guards and sentinels, making sure that his people were back in their homes safely, killing the remaining creature from Amarantha's reign still roaming free around his land... everything had the same intent. Raising Spring Court back to its past and fallen glory.
It would have been an amazing thing— a High Lord taking good care of his people and Court it's nothing but worthy of praise— but his duties contrasted with his personal life. Or at least, he made sure that they did since he buried himself with so many assignments, cutting his time short and successfully ignoring his own lover, who had spent months of torture just to save him. And all of a sudden, Tamlin's love for Feyre just seemed like an obsession. Keeping her safe and protected with all his might, were his excuse to keep her away from everything and everyone.
Feyre was quickly falling apart. The weight of her choice Under The Mountain heavily influenced her day to day life. Her eyes started to sunken slowly, dark circles shadowing her blue eyes. Her cheekbones and jaw showed more sharpness as her body weight started to decrease.
And when she wasn't alone, she tried to cover everything up with a fake smile that could have fooled many people but not me.
My sister, her safety and most of all happiness, were my main worries. She was not happy. In any way I could, that I knew, I tried to lift her spirit up, help her, soothing the guilt eating at her heart. Talking about it didn't seem to help, so I distracted her with nonsense until her eyes called for comfort. I changed it with silence, sitting on her bed with her head on my lap stroking her golden-brown hair, braiding it and untying it multiple times. Sometimes for hours humming under my breath the melody that soothed me in the dark cells of The Temple.
