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lanitalay · 2 months

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Among Flames and Starlight Chapter 7

a/n: i really wanted some fluff in this one but oh well

warnings: violence ( i keep the descriptions brief ), trauma

word count: 2k

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The stables had become Irene’s favorite place in the Autumn Court. She rode nearly everyday, only staying inside when torrential rain made riding unbearable. But if the skies were clear, Irene would be riding. At first it was just around the stables, getting to know the horses. Quickly, she started wandering off farther. She got lost one day, deep in the woods, the paths overgrown. Unable to find her way back. By chance, Lucien stumbled upon her. “What are you doing here?”

“I got lost.” He sighed deeply. “Follow me.”

That’s how Irene met Jesminda. The female was waiting for him at a small cottage. Lucien dismounted and Irene did the same. When he walked inside he was almost tackled to the floor by her. She kissed him deeply only stopped when Lucien pulled away to say “love, this is Irene. Irene this is Jesminda.” Her eyes widened and she stepped closer to Irene.

“Lulu has told me many things about the new bride of Autumn, I’m sorry that you were… well what happened to you is unfortunate.” Irene nodded, “I don’t think Lucien has mentioned you before.”

“He wouldn’t dare. If the High Lord finds out about us I’d be toast, isn’t that right, dear?” Lucien clarified for Irene “no one knows, but I trust that you’ll not say anything about this to anyone. Not even Eris.”

“I won’t say a word.”

They were sitting by the hearth and drinking a spiced tea as Lucien explained to Jesminda why he had brought Irene along “she was out in the Cliff’s Edge Pass when I found her, too far to take her back and then come back out again.”

“I’m glad you’re here Irene, us females need to have eachothers’ backs in this court.”

Once the sun began to set Lucien announced they should head back, not wanting to ride in the pitch black forest.

“It was lovely meeting you Jesminda, thank you for your hospitality.”

“Come by whenever you like, Irene, I need a break from Lucien every so often.” She teased and the male picked her up so fast she didn’t have time to let out a squeal of surprise before his lips were on hers. “I’ll be back soon, love.”

After that they would ride together to keep each other company even if Lucien insisted he was “only teaching her how to navigate the Court’s lands.”

On the rare occasion it rained, Irene would read in her rooms or spend time with Mora. The Lady of Autumn had a calming presence and when the days were gloomy and storms raged outside and in Irene’s mind she would be soothed by her demeanor. Often discussing the books they were reading over tea or just sitting in silence by a crackling fire.

Most days, she did not see Eris. To avoid Beron, she would have all her meals in her rooms or take a picnic on her rides. She only visited the library on the far end of the house, nowhere near his room or his study. Eris would spot her riding and sometimes they’d see each other in the library. “That’s my spot.” He had said when he found her in an alcove behind the section that housed all of the fiction books. Eris looked annoyed, he was carrying a book and had allotted himself an hour to read in peace when he found Irene in the very spot he wanted to be.

“I was here first.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be galavanting with Lucien?”

Irene pointed to the window that was being pelted by harsh rain. “Not in this weather. We both fit here, let’s just share.”

Eris thought about it and reached the same conclusion she had. His rooms were getting stuffy and this was one of the few places his father or his brothers wouldn’t bother him. So he sat next to her, on the far end, creating as much space between them as he could. They stayed like that until the sun set and Irene got up “I’ll see you around, Eris.”

She was doing fine, she really was. Nightmares about being paralyzed or being burned by Beron would wake her up nearly every night, but she always managed to get back to sleep. The nights when sleep was impossible, a weight on her chest so large she could swear her ribs would crack, Irene would plot. She’d indulge herself with fantasies of the High Lord of Night’s head on a stake. Ideas of pulverizing him and spreading his ashes on piles of manure. Then she’d think of Beron’s punishment, driving an ice stake through his heart seemed an interesting approach. If fire runs through his veins he must enjoy the heat and Irene wanted his last moments in this world to be filled with pain and discomfort. Lastly she would think of how to get her mother out of the prison, but that always came with a wave of grief.

Irene was perfectly fine.

Until she realized Starfall was two weeks away and the nightmares were not of her recent horrors, but of more ancient ones.

That night, after leaving the library and eating alone, Irene fell asleep and dreamt of the first Startfall without her family. She remembers fragments, gaps looming over her memory. After crying most of the day, Victoria went into her room and forced her to get out of bed. “You don’t have to go to the party, we can just look at it from the window or something.”

Decades later Irene wasn’t sure what Victoria’s intentions were that night. Maybe it was prepubescent contempt and the desire to not be surrounded by only her brother and his friends. Or maybe it was that she had gotten lonely after months of Irene isolating herself and it was an attempt at reviving her only friend in the world. But Victoria pulled Irene out of her room that night and Irene was forced to reckon with the fact that her world had been destroyed but life was still happening.

The two girls sat huddled together by a large window and watched the sky come alive. For those moments, Irene felt a break from the crushing weight on her heart. They did not talk for a while, Irene was still bristled from being torn from her bed.

“No one likes him.” Victoria broke the silence. “I know Rhysand doesn’t like him, neither does my mother and I hate him.”

“I hate him too.” In her too small heart she harbored undiluted hate for the male and hate was easy. She could hate him without trying, hate him in her sleep. After Starfall was over and the girls went back into their rooms, Irene slipped into the kitchen to find something to eat.

She heard footsteps for a split second. Then, the light vanished. Darkness enveloped her but she was not asleep. Hadn’t fainted either. It pressed against her and restricted her airflow. She was suffocating under the weight of the universe. At that moment, she couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Considering that maybe she had died and this was the painful passage to the next life. It could have been minutes or hours later, but Celene walked into the kitchen to find that her mate was strangling Irene with an onyx mass.

The Lady must have sent something down the mating bond, or yelled hard enough that the High Lord snapped out of whatever compelled him to attack a child. Irene was frenzied, gasping for air and frantically clawing at her chest, like she wanted to rip out her heart and soothe it with her hands.

That was the night her hate turned to fear. That was the nightmare that woke her up, all these decades after.

The next few days were spent in a blur of sleeplessness. Irene could not bring herself to close her eyes. She kept a candle burning in every corner of the room and the curtains all the way open. Eating was difficult again. Mora asked what was the matter, “what can I do to help?” Irene could not explain to her that the nightmares that kept her up and were slowly making her insane. She couldn’t find the words.

Then Lucien visited her room and insisted that she sleep. “You look terrible and this room is a mess” he pointed to the piles of melted wax on the floor, the stale bread on the little table she ate and the bedding strewn on the mattress. “I can’t sleep.” He sighed “yes you can Irene, and you have to.” She refused. Lucien left and an hour later Eris walked through the door.

“Hello.” Irene looked back at him from her chair by the window. “Hi.”

“I’m told you are not well.” She did not respond. “Something about not sleeping or eating?”

“I can’t.”

He was still by the door, not stepping further into her room. “Why not?” Silence. “Irene, no matter how much of a fuss you make no one is going to come rescue you.”

“I know.”

“Then sleep, eat.” He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling the short red locks. “Or rot away. It's your call.”

“Nothing has ever been my call, Eris. I’m stuck in this prison of a Court with a husband as a chain.”

“No one is forcing you to stay in this roo-” he stopped speaking as she stood up from her chair. He saw her for the first time since the library and was taken aback at how dark the circles under her eyes were. How gaunt her face. She roared at him, and her eyes, bloodshot and wild, piercing his own.

“Damn it Eris! I can’t go back home anymore! I can’t be with my family because I’m married to you! I’m nothing more than a stupid political hostage and you know it.”

He did not need a reminder that his wife was a mere punishment. That she resented him just as much as he resented her.

“Are you really that stupid? You were a hostage there too. If your precious Rhysand loved you or cared for you in any meaningful way he wouldn’t have let you marry me. You are a fool for wishing to be back there.”

“I’m more of a prisoner here.”

“Here you have a title. Here you are the sole Princess of Autumn.”

“This house is a prison”

“The entire Night Court is a prison!”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You can rot in this room for all I care. But that’s your choice.”

“No it 's not. None of this is my choice! You, this mariage, this bloody title!”

“Look around! No one chose to be here! I was born into it, so was my father and so were my brothers. My mother was married into it, you’re not special. But you are choosing to waste away and, whatever your reasoning is, it's stupid.”

“Fuck you.”

“Pathetic.”

She couldn’t disagree. So she remained silent.

He had nothing else to say. So he left.

Eventually exhaustion won. She passed out on the chair and more nightmares came, each one worse than the last. How the High Lord would take her out of her room at night and experiment. First with suffocation, but then he tried to drown her, to lash her, he tried carving out her organs but could not get through a protective layer beneath her skin. He grew frustrated with all his blades ricocheting off her. When he was tired of trying he would return her to the room, drop her on the floor and think of new ways to try and end her. He tampered with her mind. Creating a permanent spot in her memory for the nights they spent together and forbidding her from speaking them aloud.

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