Manipulated Court

April, the protector (corrected)

April's life had been carefully hidden away from the rest of the courts. From the outside, she was little more than a shadow in the Spring Court—someone no one ever saw, and few even knew existed. She had only left Spring once, years ago, when her father's friend, Lucien, insisted on meeting her. Beyond that, she was a ghost.

Her childhood had been sheltered, confined within the walls of her father's manor, isolated from the world. She was never taught how to fight or protect herself, never allowed the freedom to explore the depths of her court or her own potential. Her days were quiet, unremarkable, until she discovered her gift. When she was ten years old, she learned she could heal. A bird with a broken wing, trembling in her hands, suddenly whole. It was a miracle, a secret power no one else knew about.

No one, except for her maiden, Eva.

Eva, with her soft eyes and gentle touch, was the one who taught her how to conceal that gift. From the moment Eva saw her heal, she knew that Tamlin could never find out. "If your father ever learns about this," Eva had whispered urgently, "he'll see it as just another reason for his enemies to come for you."

April understood. She knew Tamlin well enough to know that he was overprotective, controlling, even though she was only ten at the time. So, with Eva's help, she kept her healing powers hidden.

For years, they created a secret life, a routine that became April's purpose. Under the guise of visiting the court's villages to meet its inhabitants, April and Eva would sneak away to the nearest Spring towns, helping heal the injured and learning about herbs and medicines from the village healers. The fae of the towns didn't know her as Tamlin's daughter—they had never seen her at any official gatherings—but they came to know her as the "Golden-Haired Protector." Word spread that seeking her help was a blessing, a miraculous gift sent from the Mother.

April believed she had found her calling. For seven years, she healed quietly, content with her secret purpose. She felt fulfilled, like she was doing what she had been born to do. It was a good life, a life she thought she could maintain.

But nothing good in her world ever lasted long.

It all unraveled during Calanmai, when she was seventeen. Tamlin had decided it was time for her to attend the festivities. He thought it would be her first time meeting the villagers, unaware that many of them already knew her. As they walked through the celebrations, a few fae recognized her—their healer, their protector. The looks exchanged between them were enough to spark Tamlin's suspicions.

Later that night, after the ceremony, her father confronted her. His words weren't soft, nor were they understanding. He spoke of recklessness and defiance, calling her irresponsible, dangerous. He never listened to her reasons, never cared to hear why she had been helping his people. His anger was cold, precise, and it ended with her being locked in her room.

April wasn't one to give up easily. She tried to escape several times, shattering windows, running through the gardens—anything to get away. But Tamlin grew more impatient with each attempt, his frustration mounting. Finally, he did the one thing she dreaded most: he called for a daemati.

The first time she saw the shadowy figure standing beside her father at her door, her stomach twisted with dread. She hadn't expected him to resort to mind control. But Tamlin's patience had run thin. He wasn't interested in hearing her side anymore.

The session was brutal. For hours, the daemati sifted through her memories, burying them deep within her mind, out of her reach. The memories of her time in the Spring towns—of healing, of purpose—were locked away, leaving her disoriented and hollow. The daemati wasn't skilled enough to erase them completely, but he was cruel enough to make sure she couldn't access them.

After that night, her life became a cycle of suppression. Every few months, when fragments of those memories started to surface, Tamlin would summon the daemati again. Each time, the sessions grew more violent. Though Tamlin never knew, the daemati took out his frustration physically. He would slap her, kick her, bruise her skin as he manipulated her mind.

Her screams echoed through the manor, but they were nothing more than background noise. No one came to help her. No one stopped the daemati.

Not even Tamlin.

Eva continued to be her only refuge, comforting her after each session, trying to piece together the fragments of who April had once been. But even Eva couldn't stop the slow erosion of her spirit. Each time the daemati came, April was broken a little more, her mind retreating further into itself. The will to fight back began to fade, as did her hope of ever escaping her father's control.

April's need to help others was more than just a desire to heal—it was rooted in something deeper, something that had been festering inside her for years. She had always known that in her father's eyes, she was a disappointment. Tamlin made sure of that, constantly reminding her, subtly and sometimes not so subtly, that she had failed to inherit the power he so prized: his Spring transfiguration abilities. To him, that was the ultimate sign of her weakness, her deficiency. She wasn't the daughter he had wanted.

That disappointment had followed her like a shadow for as long as she could remember. No matter what she did, it was never enough. She wasn't strong enough, wasn't talented enough, wasn't worthy enough in his eyes. And so, healing others became more than a gift—it became a way to prove herself. If she couldn't transform like her father, at least she could heal. If she couldn't protect herself with brute strength, at least she could help others survive.

For years, that was what had driven her. She felt the pressure of living up to Tamlin's expectations with every breath she took. His scorn cut deeper than any physical wound, and every disapproving glance, every cold word, felt like a dagger to her heart. Helping the fae villagers, and later the humans, was her way of fighting back, her quiet rebellion against the notion that she was worthless. She could matter, even if it wasn't in the way her father wanted.

But no matter how many lives she touched, that empty feeling of inadequacy never left her. Every time she healed a wound or cured an illness, a small part of her hoped it would be enough to silence that voice in her head—the one that echoed her father's disappointment. But it never did. Tamlin's contempt had carved a hole inside her, one that no amount of healing could ever fill.

And yet, despite it all, she couldn't stop. She couldn't stop helping, couldn't stop trying to be something more than what her father saw in her. Even when the daemati tore through her memories and buried her purpose, the need to prove herself, to help others, clung to her soul. It was the one thing she could hold on to in a world where she had been taught she would never be enough.

Tamlin's mistake was in thinking the mind control sessions would work forever, though. After two years of the daemati tearing through her mind, he assumed that it was enough, that April had been sufficiently broken and would never try to "rebel" again. His arrogance blinded him, and he ceased the sessions, believing his daughter's spirit had been subdued fully.

But that was when April found the hidden passage through the back gardens, a forgotten tunnel leading out of the manor's grounds. It was her first taste of freedom, and she wasted no time in sneaking away to the Human Lands, where Tamlin's eyes never followed. Her father had grown increasingly occupied with matters of his court, too consumed with his work to notice her slipping through his fingers. He never suspected she would dare seek out humans—creatures he thought of as less than the dirt under his boots.

His distractions became her opportunity. For the first time in years, she could help others again, only this time it was the humans she tended to. She healed their wounds, learned their customs, and became a secret part of their lives. As time passed, the weight of the daemati's influence began to lift, little by little. Small fragments of her memories started to surface—brief flashes of forgotten healing herbs, glimpses of fae faces she had once known.

Though the daemati had buried her memories of the Spring towns, he had never taken away her knowledge of her healing abilities. His sole focus had been on her rebellious thoughts, the desires that drove her to defy Tamlin's control. And so, as a year passed, April's purpose began to resurface along with those fragments, her sense of self growing stronger each day. She had escaped in more ways than one, and this time, Tamlin was too preoccupied to realize it.