Fanfic Bootcamp

Entry three - Corporal: Tamlin and Feyre at Dawn Court

I stared at her, while she sat there across the room, with none other than Rhysand at her side. 

I tried to hide my anger, the one that kept boiling up inside me. The anger that wanted to push out my claws and slash Rhysand's throat. 

His gloating annoyed me. The way he sat there, nonchalantly in the chair, next to the woman I was supposed to marry. His clothing, his hair, everything about him was getting under my skin.

She was gorgeous. I don't think she'd ever looked more beautiful. Her face was full of life and she had regained her lost weight. I had to admit that she did look much better than she ever had, even with that mongrel at her side. My heart ached of regret. 

He was poisonous to her. He had poisoned her mind with pretty thoughts and turned her into a Night. She couldn't love Rhysand. She had to love me. I rescued her from that pig pit she called a cottage, fed her and even helped that forsaken family or hers. Rhysand didn't do any of that. Ever since Under The Mountain, he had pried his daemati mind into hers, taking over control and forcing her to love him. I was sure of it. It had to be. 

When she met my staring gaze, her blue-grey eyes turned sharp, cold even. The meeting was closed, and the High Lords besides me rose to leave for their quarters.

"Feyre," I spoke. She had turned her back on me, her shoulders tightening after hearing my voice. Rhysand had put his hand on her shoulder, as he threw me a cold glance. 

"It's alright. I want to hear what he has to say." She said sweetly to him, comforting him with a kiss on his cheek. My stomach turned upside down at the sight of that. " I will meet you in our quarters." 

Her posse threw questioning glances at her, but as their High Lady, she was capable of doing whatever she wanted.

When the room had cleared, Feyre slowly turned around. I rose and walked towards her.

"Tamlin," she spoke. "I hadn't expected you to come today." Her eyes met mine as I strode across the floor.

I could sense the power coming off of her, the powers inherited by all the High Lords after resurrecting her at Under The Mountain. I could even sense the sweet taste of Spring Court: the claws I had once seen and whatever else she possessed.

"I was invited. Of course, I came." I spoke as I stared down at her. I was glad she had sent Rhysand back to their quarters. I had wanted to talk to her without him present.

My eyes wandered at her High Lady tattoo on her arm. It looked wrong on her.

"What do you want, Tamlin?" her voice was drowned with annoyance when she caught me staring. Her body was half turned towards the door.

"I-" I swallowed, my eyes fixing back on her. " I just wanted to talk to you. I miss you, you know." Feyre's face twisted. "You should've thought of that when you locked me in your castle." She hissed.

"I know. It wasn't fair of me." I agreed. It wasn't like me to acknowledge my mistakes, but I just did.

"You look good, Feyre," I spoke softly. Her hard eyes didn't soften one bit. I guess I deserved it.

 I still have night terrors," I said, not sure why I did. " Do you still have them?" I asked. She then shook her head, the movement violent. " No. Not since I'm at Night Court," she responded stiffly. 

My stance stiffened at the sound of that and my claws burst out of my hold. " I just wanted to keep you safe. That is all." I replied, clenching my hands into fists and forcing the claws back.

"Why don't you get to the point, Tamlin?" Feyre urged, folding her arms in front of her chest. I swallowed and nodded. My claws slid back in and I started pacing.

"I had you, you know? You were mine. We were supposed to get married. And now... Now you've destroyed Spring Court," I tried not to sound abrasive, "I have nothing to reign over. Your ghost haunts me in the castles, like your paintings do, too." I took a step forward and took her by her arm.

"Remember that night, I burst into your cottage? I want to go back to that. I miss you, Feyre Cursebreaker." Feyre ripped her arm out of my touch, her face turning rigid.

"Feyre," I begged, " I don't know what I'm supposed to do." 

**  (Lord Huron - The Night We Met) **