Chapter 1: This is Not Rhysand
Chapter Text
Key
Tem – Tamlin’s Father
Aisla – Tamlin’s Mother
Rolan – Rhysand’s Father
Drita – Rhysand’s Mother
Teuta – Rhysand’s Sister
Silence filled the room as a ragged cloak swished silently against the marble floor. The squeak of a chair nearly silenced the clink of a tea kettle and cups being placed on the rickety table. “Tell me, what stories do you bring today?” an ancient voice whispered in the darkness.
“Today, I bring you the truth.”
Spring and Night paid no mind to each other before the war. Most High Lords minded their own courts or moved about politically in what would benefit them the most. Perhaps, this is why Tamlin and Rhysand first became such good friends. Their bond was pure and good. One that the High Lord of Spring and High Lord of the Night Court paid no heed to. There was no downside to this as both sons could provide information to their courts about the court in question. A bonus was that Tamlin felt no need to be High Lord, so what should his father fear?
On a bright Spring Day, the wind blew slightly off. It was too cheerful, too relaxed. There wasn’t a single hint of fear that normally ran deep through his court. The thickness of that scent always brought him a smile of twisted glee. Today there was no smile on his face, but rather that of fury. The land had chosen a potential heir and his youngest son, Tamlin was chosen.
The manor had shaken with a growl so fierce it nearly collapsed the west wing. Tamlin was nothing but a failure to his father. He lacked the political prowess of his brothers and the cruelty of his own father. Aisla, often took the blame when Tamlin would mess up. For it was her that he took after. She’d doted on him too much when he was a child. According to Tem, at least. He couldn’t fight his son. The male offspring of the Night Court had taught him to fight too well. He would need another plan.
As word spread through the Spring Court, another troublesome matter was brewing within the Night Court. Teuta, Rhysand’s sister, was beginning to showcase. For the first time in centuries a female had been chosen as a potential heir to the High Lord power. Rolan was not like Tem when it came to anger. He preferred a more menacing quiet outburst.
Between his half Illyrian daughter showcasing power rather than his High Fae presenting son, and his son stirring dissention within the Illyrian camps with ideology that probably came from that blasted youngest son of spring. Rolan had had enough. Drita was still young and easily swayed. She could produce him more offspring easily. A shadow he’d employed waltzed in giving him news of the brewing within spring.
A note appeared directly on the desk of Tem requesting a meeting UTM. A meeting to deal with his current problem. The two High Lords met in secrecy. A plan was formed. Kill the daughter and blame the son. Let the sons kill each other. So, it was. Money was exchanged and a trap was set. Rolan delivered the location of where is wife and daughter would meet with Rhysand. Tem ensured a faux message made it to Tamlin inviting him on their gathering. The day came swiftly.
Tamlin’s eldest brothers with their personal guards awaited in the shadows, glamour hiding their forms and their scent. Drita and Teuta carefully trekked through. Drita knew her mate had been acting off. It made her spine rigid and her instincts to skyrocket the last few days. Teuta clutched her small knife as they moved through. Tamlin stepped out of the brush causing Drita and Teuta to let out a breath.
It was too late. Guards from Spring and the eldest sons dropped their glamour proving that the three were surrounded and outnumbered. Drita drew her daggers a snarl ripping across her face. The two eldest sons of Spring lunged for Teuta, but Tamlin was quicker screaming for the two to take to the air. The plan was too thought out. A net was cast over the trees blocking any form of skyward escape. The personal sentries jumped for Drita collectively. Teuta fought to protect her mother, but it was no use. Rolan had hired his own assurance outside of Spring as well. A group of criminals dying to see the light of day from Hewn City jumped on Teuta. Drita screamed a warriors cry as Tamlin roared.
It was over as quickly as it began. Poison lightly trickled in Tamlin’s veins having come from the blade of his eldest brother. It was enough to weaken him as the two dragged him to the ground. Drita was in worse shape as she was dropped to her knees. Tem stepped out of a green puff having winnowed to them. His orders were clear. Kill the women, toss their heads and take their wings.
Rage filled Tamlin as he was forced to watch. Roars and threats ripped through him as the men of Spring and Hewn brutalized the two women. The women he thought of as his aunt and the one he called his own sister. When it was done Tem rendered his son unconscious and called for him to be locked in his room. Rhysand had not shown, but he would, and a darker plan would come to play.
Rolan had felt his mate bond turn to ash before him. It was the most excruciating pain. Poor souls within the walls of the House of Wind suddenly turned into nothing but a red mist. Darkness swirled until it melted into a dark forest covered in blood and weapons. Rhysand had arrived at the same time. Blood on his hands from the heads of his mother and sister. A scream of rage left him.
Tem was not supposed to harm Drita. That was the bargain. In that instant Rolan and Rhysand made a bargain. That neither would rest until Spring and its lineage had fallen. Together, they made way to slaughter the family.
“The rest is well known. The High Lords son claim their blood soaked thrones. Do not bore me, Priestess.” The ancient voice grew bored.
“It was not my intention.” A sigh as the untouched tea kettle sat before them clinked again. “Rolan and Rhysand did kill the eldest sons but …”
Tamlin had awoken hours later. Regardless of the poison still within in his veins his rage was too great. The doors and windows to his room shuddered greatly as he clawed and fought. The sounds and scent of death filled his ears. Finally, the door gave way and burst open just as Rhysand murdered his father. Though, it wasn’t his father that beheld his gaze, but rather his loving mother. Ailas, the Lady of Spring. The roar was unimaginable. In a blind rage Tamlin slaughtered the first person to fall under his claws.
Rolan stood there watching his son fall to the hands of Tamlin. Seems this boy was a killer after all. So many bargains broken, this time the land needed a punishment. Balance needed to happen. A power flew through the room and blasted the two remaining souls. Tamlin shuffled backwards. He had become High Lord of Spring. Rolan, however, Rolan was met with something else. The essence and power of his own son. Trapped in his son’s body.
“The High Lord is that of Old?” It was not shock that the darkness beheld but rather amusement.
“Yes, Rhysand died years ago. Tamlin was quick realize, but who would believe him? The little details needed to ensure Rolan’s masquerade were changed and shifted at his will. Everything else, is easily explained.” The priestess shifted in her chair. “There’s reasons the High Lady of Night is wearing Drita’s clothes, her ring, and even dawns the wings from Drita’s people.” A distant singular ethereal chime sounded. “That is all I have for today.”
“Tomorrow?” The voice was sad. Only a simple nod in the darkness before the priestess was gone.
Chapter 2: Victors Tell the History
Summary:
Bryaxis and the priestess reminisce about the old ways and the twisted history that was brought with it.
Content:
Mentions of Death / Murder / Lying / Enslavement / Darkness
Twisted HistoryThis head-cannon blossomed from Chapter 22 of ACOWAR when Cassian says: "There was life here, before the High Lords took Prythian. Old gods, we call them. They ruled the forests and the rivers and the mountains - come were those things. Then the magic shifted to the High Fae, who brought the Cauldron and Mother along with them, and though the old gods were still worshipped by a select few, most people forgot them."
Chapter Text
A hidden high-lord and a twisted history.
Faint azure light swept through the obsidian depths of the library. Fog swirled around the fabric flows of the priestess as she took her seat within a small garden chair. Porcelian glasses tinked in the shallow silence.
"Whispers have lain tales of a war brewing." The voice of many but also of none whisked around.
"The King of Hybern is coming. Which means your days here are numbered Lord of Terror." Her hand shifted just barely resting on the iron grate of the rusted table top. Dust had grown thick upon the kettle before them.
"The nameless ruler. Ruthless towards those creatures that once worshiped us." The old days. Long before the High Fae. "Amren must be proud they still fear her."
A hum of agreement left her pale lips. "It is the fae's fear she relishes in now. The humans are still trapped behind that wall clutching their iron but not knowing what for.
Sinster chuckles lingered in the air. "Enlighten me on how perversed their history has become."
The old gods ruled this world nearly 15,000 year ago. It's lands were wild and untamed, beautiful and dangerous. Humans worshiped these gods with fear, respect, and even love. Then change began. First a being of light and fire fell from the skies. A warning bell of what was to come.
The old gods, spare a few, chose to ignore this warning. Yet, more and more came. Winged human looking creatures, a witch-like god and her cauldron, and her children. The High-Fae they called themselves. Darkness fell over the land. Rituals were targeted and silenced. Devout humans were taken and names were forced from them. Names have power, after all. Iron was of no
One by one, the old gods were weakened. Four fertility and abundance gods were killed. The land grew dark with their death, but left one gift in their wake. A gift that humans would discover.
Scared to destroy the world, the Fae set out to entrap the old gods. A deal was struck by a dark mother. One who non, even her own lovers, knew the name of. Those willing to stay in the middle with their children were left to be. The rest were locked away.
Humans hid seeds of the ash tree, sending them along the way to the mountains while others forged weapons. Together they fought for their old gods and for the land that was now dying. The battle was quickly lost and humans were taken as slaves.
Desperate to heal, the land lunged for those able to withstand it's wild magic mixing with their own. Once a year, some hold rituals to give back to the land, understanding what is needed. Others, cling to this power bringing hardships to their own lands.
When humans were freed, their history was twisted. The Mother had taken place of the old gods and her cauldron taking the story of creation. The old gods were reduced to nothing but monsters and beasts that the High Fae and their generals slaughtered or bested for glory.
Those trapped will only be free by bargain or by the cauldrons demise.
The old world was lost, buried and hidden under a mountain or in the middle where no human would survive journeying. Iron adorns their bodies, their weapons, their homes, yet they do not know the truth of why. Nor of why the place markings upon their door frames and windows. Why they gather during shifts of seasons or moons. Only that the it is to ward of the High Fae.
An almost human snort sounded. "The fae, crafted from their iron cauldron, lied?"
The Priestess's lip twitched upwards slightly, "a twist, a withholding, an allowance of an assumption to happen, but never an outward verbal lie."
"For they do not outwardly speak falsely." Bryaxis breathed sending smoke through the corporeal body of the priestess.
Saddness entered her voice. "The magic has been cut off from them for so long that their lands have begun to dwindle over the years. The winters harsher, animals more scarce, even their soil has lost it's will to grow anything. Commotion sounded above cutting her speech short. "It seems, your time is upon us. Worry not old friend. My soul will follow where you go. A fools bargain awaits."
Teresa Butler (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sun 10 Aug 2025 11:42AM UTC
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DhampirDreamer25 on Chapter 1 Mon 11 Aug 2025 01:42AM UTC
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