A Court of Love and Healing {ACOTAR}

A Testament of Trauma

Tamlin stumbles forward a bit, surprised that Lucien had summoned all his firepower forward. He hates the feeling of ravaging heat through his veins. It takes a lot of anger and energy to culminate it in his hands enough to control it, not to mention that it reminds him of where he came from, never wanting to be anything like them.

Admittedly, it's impressive, and he can't help but thank the mother that he hadn't hailed from the Autumn Court...his surroundings would have been up in ash centuries ago if that were his power.

"I say...why not. Everything else in my life is up in flames. Why not this piece of shit too?"

The flames in Lucien's hands get puffed out as he releases his magic back into his veins, grabbing Tamlin's shoulders as he falls forward, his body unable to keep him upright due to being so weak and without energy.

"Fuck. Okay, let's...let's get you out of here first." Wrapping one of Tamlin's arms around his shoulders he grunts a bit as he drags his body along until they are outside of the manor and at a safe distance.

Lucien gives him a pointed look. "I'll get them", he says softly, jogging back into the house and easily locating the trunk of objects that had belonged to his mother. Something he kept hidden away in the deep corner of his closet. The only thing that ever mattered to him in this house.

They had exchanged sob stories centuries ago when Tam had saved him from the Autumn Court. It was one of the only times they had both been vulnerable. They got it over with and never truly spoke of the histories again until Feyre had come along...we all know how that turned out. Just another slap in the face to his friend who holds his vulnerability closer to his chest than the heart that lies inside of it. The second female to break him. One with death, one with leave.

Hauling the small trunk on his shoulder, he brings it down the creaking stairs and out the door, placing it carefully next to Tamlin.

"Anything else important? Think, because once my flames get to this place, it's nearly unstoppable...", his throat bobs with the split-second flashback of Jesminda; the burns on her body as she was dragged out, and how he wasn't there while her screams of pain most likely echoed throughout the entire Autumn Court Castle the night before her murder, unbeknownst to him.

Tam sits against a tree, his eyes fixed on the grass, empty and dull. "I have nothing here. I have nothing anywhere. You should have let me be."

"Yeah, you mentioned", Lucien sighs. "Alright...ready then? We can rebuild. I'll help you, and I'll get workers to help us."

"Right, because you get a pretty fucking penny from that bastard", he bites out.

"I have no loyalty to anyone. I work to survive, Tamlin. I told you, I am an exiled male. I do things that I please. But yes, I do need income to survive, and playing a small role in the Night Court is a part of how I make an income. And not that I have to explain this to you, but the Spring Court has barely any funds left to hold itself together, never mind paying emissaries or sentries. Plus, as I have explained other times that I have been here, my mate is there...she—we aren't very close and I spend my time there mostly to try and get closer to her, while respectfully also giving her space. I'm hoping she comes around."

Tamlin's lip twitches angrily, but he stays quiet for the moment. "Do it. I want to see it burn."

Lucien nods, closing his eyes and taking a breath, flaring his magic, pushing it forward into his palms, orbs of flame surrounding them again. He walks up to the manor and tosses the balls of fire onto the foundation, and others inside the front door before stepping back.

He looks over at Tamlin, knowing that not only did he want to see it burn for the sake of watching his evil father's pride and joy being reduced to cinders, but all of the memories he had made with Feyre between those walls. Everything good and bad, and in between.

"I'm sorry", Lucien mutters to him, meaning it. Tamlin was not a good friend; he could be downright vicious, and he has attacked him on occasion. However, Lucien realizes all of the pent-up grief and trauma that has plagued this male for the last five centuries, and he recognizes it would break anyone...hopefully not past the point of return quite yet.

He hadn't been here when Tamlin was a child, fending off the advances of a much older Amarantha, wasn't there when his father let her take him to bed and have her way with him the moment he was 'of age' in his twisted mind, wasn't there when Tam's powers overcame him as the strongest son as he fought relentlessly day and night to suppress and hide, he wasn't there when Tam was sent to war, wasn't there when his brothers found out he was strongest, wasn't there when they all attempted to murder him at all hours, causing him to go days or weeks without sleep just to guard himself, wasn't there when his father realized and still didn't want him as heir, and wasn't there when he found the person he called his mate, a girl by the name of Novalyn.

A young, tan-skinned, dark-haired, violet-eyed beauty. Tamlin made it a year with her and their well-hidden mate bond, a year with the risk of sneaking around to see her and lying to his father about it. That is, until that year ticked down and Serlan eventually found out from one of his brothers, who had spotted them together. Tamlin was dragged to their concrete basement and tortured to just the smallest cusp between life and death, doused and shackled with faebane. His father threatened to murder Novalyn and her older brother, who happens to be Rhysand, since Tam and Rhys were friends at the time, if Tamlin didn't tell him of her identity and whereabouts. He had kept quiet until his father threatened his mother, that was the final straw. He had seen her suffering at his hands and refused to let her take the brunt of anything else, so he gave up the location. He figured that if Rhys met them there, they could summon enough of their power to take out his father and brothers. However, Rhys never showed and the plan turned out to be moot to save Nova and their mother. Serlan took pride in killing the Night Court's Lady and first daughter.

He had ripped Tamlin out of the faebane chains weak, battered, bruised, and bloodied, dragging him on the voyage with the most bloodthirsty of his brothers. The female was easily spotted and just like that, she was cruelly taken from him, Tamlin held down and forced to endure the ripping of the mate bond as she was murdered-- slashed and stabbed countless times by his father's sharp claws. Her mother had been with her instead of Rhys, screaming for mercy and consequentially being killed by his brothers once Nova was dead.

It was a horrific deed that would then be used by Lucien's own father, Beron.

Though Serlan always took things a step further, a viler approach to an already evil act, as, after he took his sword and jaggedly beheaded them, he also sliced their Illyrian wings off to keep as trophies, leaving the rest of their bodies for creatures to feast on. He then sent their heads down the river to Serlan's enemy, Rhynard, the High Lord of the Night Court, as Tamlin screamed in terror and pain. Upon returning to the Manor, Serlan had taken both pairs of wings and pinned them on the wall in his study, a clear warning of what would happen if Tam or his brothers ever betrayed him again. Despite how battered Tamlin's external body was that day, the internal pain was worse by a thousand-fold. Lucien knew all too well that no amount of physical pain could match the loss of a love.

Tamlin's eyes glaze over with tears as he looks over and stares at the starlight pool at the bottom of the hill, his thoughts closely echoing Lucien's. Before he and Nova had been found out, she had gifted her mate with a part of her in the Spring Court. The starlight pool. She used her powers to conjure it so he could have a small part of her here when she couldn't physically be. Tamlin had used his glamour to conceal it on the land from his family and would sneak out at night for dips when he was missing her. On rare occasions she would meet him there if she could also get away, flying down to greet him in a flirty tackle before they lip-locked under the night sky, solidifying their mate bond on that first night of the pool's existence.

Lucien places a single hand on Tamlin's shoulder, and he snaps out of his thoughts, looking up to see the Manor which was now a steaming pile of ash on the ground, and for the first time in over two years, he smiled. A vengeful, karmic, vicious grin. A moment he knew his poor mother would celebrate as well if she had been spared from Rhynard's wrath. And a final 'fuck you' to his rightfully slain father, whose name meant the exact opposite of its owner.