A Court of Love and Healing {ACOTAR}

Power Play and Nynsar Day

Tamlin stills as Briar approaches the tall grass at the border. His heart lurches, not wanting Feyre anywhere near her. But...faith. He had to have faith in his mate. He has to loosen any sort of leash he wants to have. That had always been his problem. After losing so many people, it was in his nature to cling to them, to protect them. Tightly. Too tightly that it drove Feyre herself away to Rhysand.

“Wh-what?” Feyre asks, stunned, before she reigns in her annoyance as best as she can, her stare boring into the female standing before her. "That's what she is", Feyre thinks, as she takes in Briar's now-pointed ears. A female. Not a woman anymore. She had been mistaken during the rescue at Hybern's palace. Briar was no longer a simple 'Child of the Blessed, or mortal. She was a faerie now, too. The King of Hybern must have changed her the way he had changed Nesta and Elain.

Briar takes another step towards her, moving past the magical threshold of the border, as if it had allowed her to do so; while blocking Feyre out. Tamlin goes to grab her arm, and she gives him a look, gently swatting him off. His arm immediately drops back, and he swallows.

Feyre’s brow crinkles as that familiar anger seems to swirl around her heart. Not once would he listen to her, not once, yet he will listen to this new female with a fucking look??

“How dare you speak to him that way on his own lands? I understand you have a crazy history, but after what you did to these people, you have absolutely no right to speak to him that way in or near his own court. Your sister is fine. She is with her mate. As his friend, trust Lucien to take care of her by now, but it seems that trust and faith have left you. I can’t presume to have known you before, but I can say now, without doubt, that you have been corrupted. At least your heart has. And I feel sorry for you. Because if these people once loved and trusted you, I imagine you have changed beyond all familiarity. But you are not the only person whom the past has damaged, Feyre. You are not the only one who has suffered through evil and war. You are not the only one who has made mistakes. However, I would not call the planned takedown of an entire court and innocent people a mistake.”

Feyre blinks at her boldness, this new person in front of her at complete odds with the girl that she had to convince to jump into Azriel’s arms and the one who seemed dazed and broken as she frolicked through the mud at the war camp, completely naked. Finding herself again, she takes a breath. “You do not know him. Believe me, you may think you do, but you don’t. He is a literal monster. He may seem sweet or sad, but when that anger comes out, it will destroy you too. So as someone who has lived through that torture, reject him and be free of it. You can’t change him. You can’t teach an old beast new tricks.”

Tamlin stands behind Briar, arms slackened at his sides, no anger or fight left in his eyes as he stands there frozen and numb. Brokenly, he thinks, ‘She’s right. I will ruin her.’

“I don’t want to change him. I want to embrace him. Every sharp, rigid, and rough edge that people shy away from, I won’t. And that’s why I’m his mate. Just like my rough edges are why he’s mine. I may be new to Prythian, but I get the gravity of having a mate. I don’t know how you feel about yours, but the purpose isn’t to change the other person, it is to better one another. It is to know you can be yourself and someone will be there to cheer you on, to protect you, and to stand up for you even in your darkest hour. Like what a marriage in the mortal lands should have been. You don’t give up when shit gets hard if you love them; you persevere and you try to heal together. I’ve heard many stories and rumors about Tamlin, but I have also heard plenty about you too, Feyre.”

Feyre clenches her jaw and crosses her arms. Her muscles tick under her forearm tattoos as if she would love to throw a punch...or at least a blast of power. She tosses Tamlin a glare as he steps closer to Briar, ready to take the brunt of her anger if need be.