Feyre/Rhys/Tam Fanficfion ACoTaR

Chapter 1

Tamlin was late for dinner, again. Lucien sat in his usual seat, slouching in an intricately ordained charcoal tunic. It brought out his russet eye and slightly darker hair, painting him as a perfect Lord of the Autumn Court. Except for his posture, of course, and that he was picking gracelessly at his remaining meal. Though I couldn't judge-I still hadn't touched mine. It was a twist of roasted venison, golden brown roasted potatoes, thick and creamy soup, and a broadleaf salad. Back when I lived in the cottage, I would have killed for a meal like this. I did kill for a meal like this. And many from the tiny village where I once lived still suffered the same. Heaving a sigh, I picked up my fork.

"About time," Lucien commented from the far end of the table. I looked up, glaring, and he smirked. His metal eye swirled, less affronting than when he had worn his mask. His noble features had softened it's impact, if only to be degraded again by the long, white scar which ran to his jaw. Despite it all, he was roguishly handsome-a fact you did not have to tell him, as he was quite well aware.

"Leave me alone."

"Now, now, don't be like that. If I'm not mistaken, I may be your only remaining friend." Again with the smirk. Something inside me clenched; the slight pain that comes from a growing bruise. A loud smashing sound, like breaking glass, was loud in my ears and I jumped. A stinging pain in my fingers, and I looked down to see my wine glass, broken in my lap. My fingers were bleeding, but the cuts were already beginning to close, pushing little pieces of glass out of the wounds. I couldn't help but watch, fascinated. Once it was healed, nothing remained except a slight flesh discolouration, and dried blood. My tunic was stained around my mid section, as if I had been impaled. I placed the remaining jagged stem back on the table, and carefully picked the glass off my tunic, placing it on the table.  When I glanced back up, Lucien's face was clouded.

"What?" I asked, and he looked away quickly, before meeting my eyes.

"Your control should be better, Feyre. It's been three months." My cheeks flushed.

"I know. I'm trying."

"Are you really? If you are, I think you need to try harder. This is a gift you've been given, don't waste months squandering it." Lucien didn't mean to sound harsh, but my eyes threatened to water, and my nails dug into my palms, leaving half moons. I hated this, hated my weakness. That I couldn't even control myself. I hated that I wanted to cry all the time. That Lucien might see me cry.

"It's not my fault," I snapped back, "Tamlin's been gone most of the time, and I don't see yourself rushing in to help teach me control. I can't even concentrate long enough to paint-" I stopped there, pausing at the end of my sentence, the words dangling as if over a cliff. Painting was another thing I tried not to think about. Add it to the list. Lucien opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the loud banging of the dining room's doors as they opened. I winced at the sound. Tamlin strode in, his strong physique clearly defined by the tight tunic and pants he was wearing-the same colour as his eyes-and supple leather boots.

"Sorry I'm late," he announced, sitting down in his chair at the other end of the table. "Feyre, as usual, you look beautiful." I was wearing another one of my drabbest tunics, as I had been doing for the past three months. I couldn't wear the pretty colours anymore, without wanting to claw at my chest.

"And what about me?" Asked Lucien, pretending to sulk. "Don't I look beautiful?"

"As stunning as the Eddies eyes," Tamlin replied dryly. Then they both paused to share a significant look, which managed to include me and not at the same time. A slight shake of the head from Lucien, and then a minuscule grimace from Tamlin. Maybe, I thought a little bitterly, if he bothered to ask me how I was doing, his questions would be answered more wholly. No, Tamlin, I haven't been sleeping well. Why, you ask? Because I keep imagining myself dying, or you dying, or everyone I love dying. Have I painted yet? No indeed. Why again? Well, truly, the colours hurt more than you do, nowadays. At the other end of the table, Lucien made a mild inquiry to how it had went at Tamlin's visit to the Day Court, which then launched into a full-blown conversation over the High Lord's daughter. I sat quietly while they discussed possible trading opportunities, the current state of his court, and a ball which could cement the aforementioned. Once the latter was spoken, I decided to leave. Lucien gave me a nod as I left, but Tamlin, fully engrossed, barely gave me a flick of the eyes.