The Rose and the Sinbound

Chapter 1: Lies spun of Cotton

The soft creature nestled on my lap, my hands gently rubbed at its long ears it felt like spun cotton, warm and delicate, a peculiar gift from one of my father's close friends—a fae high lord with ambitions as transparent as glass. I'd grown used to such gestures. They all came with expectations: flowers that never wilted, rare creatures from distant lands, offers of power wrapped in silk ribbons. I was, after all, the only daughter, daughter of Reed, a High Lord, and one of the most coveted alliances in Elfhelm. They called me the loveliest flower in all Elfhelm as they praised me.

Proposals were routine. The sons of high lords and nobles alike would paraded before me like performers, each seeking to secure their name beside mine, hoping to tether themselves to my fathers bloodline. In our lands of Elfhelm, beauty, strength and blood ties were the currency of survival for us female's. And I had both in abundance—magic that shimmered in my veins, beauty crafted by the hands of our creator, our god, Sorin. I carried it like armor, though some days it felt more like a cage. Or a pressing weight shackled around my ankle pulling me down into a depth, a abyss that wants nothing but to indulged in my being.

Across from me, Orion sat with the effortless grace of a predator. His molten golden eyes flickered with light, as if the sun itself burned within them—molten and scorching, the liquid flowed in his eye no pupil to be found, just a ever moving current of molten gold, liquid and fluid. Yet I realized in his pupilless eyes that the intensity of his gaze wasn't on the small creature playing in my lap but on me, watching as if I were a puzzle he was determined to solve, or perhaps a prize to possess. He was the one of the heir of the Day Court, a high fae whose every movement was calculated to conceal ambition beneath charm.

I seen him neither as a enemy nor ally, just a man who last breath would be for furthering, & expanding his courts boarder.  I know they just seek to consume the fruitfulness of our court, maybe the system that Sorin put in place would finally fall and spring would be consumed by the sun. If the immortal court allowed it, they do love their control that they crafted between the seasonal and solar courts, or like they love to refer to us as the unseelie and seelie.

Father, oblivious or choosing not to see their true ambitions in seeking courting me, my father rested a bronze hand on Orion's shoulder, his smile as radiant as a spring dawn. "Isn't Orion the most intriguing suitor?" There was warmth in his tone, but beneath it lurked something sharper: expectation, the weight of an unspoken command. Commanding me, telling me that I must court this man back. For my father favored Orion deeply. They've been friends as far back as my memory could go as a youngling. 

I exhaled slowly, masking my frustration behind the same polite mask I wore at every attempt at courtship from a man, that I had been dragged to by my father. "Father, I trust your judgment." The words slipped from my mouth, polished and careful, like stones smoothed by water. Yet beneath them, I felt the tight coil of duty winding ever tighter.

Orion inclined his head slightly, a smile curving his lips—small, satisfied. His gaze lingered on me, sharp and possessive, and I met it with a smile of my own, polite but distant. "Lord Orion is highly respected among among most of the young males in our lands, his navel army and ship's are rivaled to none, and he will treasure you my dear Rosebud" Father beamed,  "He is indeed quite a ambitions male more ambition then his predecessors" I murmured, careful to lace my words with the appropriate awe. "Few can match his strength or his influence. From the story's you always tell father" I tried to edge my mocking tone down. 

I looked around the room briefly just to avert my gaze from those liquid eyes, that felt like they too were pulling me into the liquid crushing depth of them. Void less of any true emotion for me, the room we sat in was a sitting room reserved for my fathers guest in our manor, the room was of earthly tones and golden trimming with rich chestnut wood flooring, our manor was probably the most homely out of all the other high lords chosen housing, some palaces, castles, glass towers, or even towering tree's. Yet the Spring court was grandeur in other ways then where we choose to lay our heads. My gaze briefly fell on the painter, who was contracted by my father to paint me holding the Orion's cotton gift, so he could immortalize the moment we bound our courts. More like our court becomes a branch off southern vacation land for the Day courts nobles... Disgust filled my bones, yet my father would, or will not listen to my plea.