ᴀ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇꜱ→ᴀᴄᴏᴛᴀʀ

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Disclaimer : I do not own the acotar series just my own OCS, like Mana, Vernon and Petunia. I may or may not add more ocs as the story goes on for the sake of the plot. This is set before acotar and will go through acotar and acomaf. Also since I haven't read acosf yet, please do not comment any spoilers. Now without further ado, read on!

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                   Prologue                 

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He was High Lord

The most powerful High Lord in the history of Prythan.

But of course, there was the cost.

The memory of his father announcing that his mother and sister were killed by the High Lord of the Spring kept swirling in his mind. His mother who took him to fly over Velaris beneath the magnificent night sky, his mother who raised him, taught him to hide his heritage; his wings from the unknown enemy knowing that if they we're hurt, he couldn't fly. His wings would no longer fly just like if his father hadn't whisked, winnowed away his mother from the brutal misogynistic ways of the cold, harsh Illyrian camps. The ring she gave the weaver, to test his mate-

If he would ever be blessed with one.

And his sister.

His eyes burned with unshed tears.

He gulped, a attempt to keep away the sobs as they fought against him. Clawing at him to be released.

He would have to keep them locked, he couldn't have any court Fae other than his now, Inner circle see them.

The Court of Dreams

Even the sound of it put a small smile on his dark, beautiful face.

He would never be ridiculed, frowned upon, in his own circle for his Illyrian heritage nor for his High Fae, or even as Daemati.

A court of dreamers, all unique; taken for their skills rather than their blood. Friends, family even. His brothers, his cousin, an ancient being in the body of a High Fae female who he had come close to. He would not hesitate to trust them with his life, even for a second. He and them, together would protect their hope of a world, the city hidden away from Prythan or any lands away, a city which held their joy, their dreams.

Velaris, the City of Starlight.

*.｡*✧*。˖*.✧∘˚˳°～｡☆━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾉ*.✧*｡*ﾟ+☆

For the third time in the day, Mana puked out her guts.

The acidic tang in her mouth just made her more sick. She grimaced.
She'll have to threaten someone to clear her mess.

Again.

The word that she'd gotten a nasty flu had already spread through the non stop gossiping of the Night Court. Believable, since she's been poisoned too many times for her to keep count. They were never life threatening or downright dangerous, just an ugly result of terrible minds drowned in envy.

Quite pathetic, really.

Especially when she'd grown immune to them after so long. But she had to keep up some pretence to be effected, so they get some of that sick satisfaction of bringing some 'karma' to a fellow Fae lady in the same prediction as them for not being sold off, despite having had her first bleed years ago and have some actual power to bear one powerful child.

One child

One of the reasons she's still a unmarried Fae lady in a marriageable age.

She would've gladly stated out her reasons for termed 'lucky', even more so than perhaps the Morrigan when she was her age, but she was a blood curling suspicion in her mind of what her barfing out the no-longer-delicious food, meant.

There was a possibility she might be with child.

She went very pale at the thought. No, she couldn't have let that happen, could she?

She tried to dismiss her worries, trying to convince herself maybe it was a different kind of poison this time.

However, her blank memories of the now deceased High Lord's visit said otherwise.