Courage Is Not The Absence Of Fear, But Rather The Judgment That Something Is More Important Than Fear.

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something is more important than fear. The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all.” — Prince Edward Renaldi

Why is she refusing my help? When she came to me for my aid, why is she pushing aside a change of clothes and a hot meal? Tamlin’s gaze grew increasingly skeptical until he rubbed his sore temples. They throbbed more by the minute.

“Lady Briar.” He said firmly. “I really must insist that you accept the change of clothing if you are going to ask me to be here so late into the evening when I would normally be with my family. Please…”

He tried to smile, though it did not make it to his eyes. It was a bit difficult to do when she was looking his direction like a muddy puppy dog, who’d followed him home in the rain. “Get dry. Get clean. Take a meal. You are not beholden. It’s my duty as High Lord to care for the people of this court. It certainly looks like no one has cared for you in a very…long time.”

“I insist.” Before she could protest anymore or her big, soft eyes gave him the shivers, Tamlin stepped into the protection of his office. Great — I have one hour to pull myself together before fixing this mess.

Luckily, his fiddle sat waiting on the corner of his desk and he instinctively sighed with relief. He had few friends, but music would always be there.

the secret side of me @springcourthighlady

It had been a long day — too long. Tamlin was tired and his head ached after spending so long reading contracts and documents with his courtiers and emissaries. He tried not to wear his glasses in court, but now in the soft light of the setting sun, he was happy to have them to assist as he opened his book to the marked page and began to read. 

The rose garden was his place of solace and comfort. Whenever his spirit was worn, he came here to rest. Very few knew of the small path off the manicured way that led to a small grove of trees and wild roses. He’d swung a hammock between two of them and rested between the branches, letting the wind sway him back and forth. 

In the middle of the chapter, an innocent giggle sprang to life from the pages of the old fairytale that he was reading. Tamlin rubbed his head. Am I that tired?

He yawned and tried to focus again on the swirling letters, but the laughter again distracted him. 

He knew that sound. His ears quirked up and his green eyes brightened.

Nyx! 

His excitement was followed by an equally intense rush of anxiety

Feyre. 

Tamlin peered over the hedges. A flash of black curls revealed the toddler running from his guardian.

He did it! His heart swelled with pride. By the cauldron — I hope she’s not too mad at me.

Nyx stopped, spotting him through the branches. “Tamtam!” 

The toddler rushed through the secret entrance and tackled his legs, knocking him to the ground. Tamlin yelped, suddenly upside down, but happily surrounded by hugs from his favorite tiny fae. 

He lifted Nyx up into the air, making dragon sounds, until he saw a lovely young woman peeking around the edge of the brambles. His face turned red, hot, and he stood up quickly. His posture stiffened, though the color didn’t fade from his cheeks, or ears. 

“Lady…” It took him a moment to place her. He did try to keep track of everyone who lived in Spring, but the increasing amount of names was making that difficult. “Rose? Was it? Lady Rose?” 

“I think I like to forget the bad, as much as I can.” He winced, looking away briefly, so that Feyre couldn’t see the darkness which clouded his eyes when he thought of his father and brothers. They’d lost their rights to be called family, in his mind. Blood didn’t determine that — loyalty did. Lucien was his brother. So was Andras. He would much prefer to forget what he could and nurse the wounds they’d left in peace. Tamlin sighed heavily, his brows bent low with empathy, as he again met her eyes. Gray and questioning, they still actively searched for his loyalties. How was he supposed to tell her of the feelings that burgeoned beneath the surface of his heart? He would go to any length for her. He’d kill for her. He’d die for her. Nothing hurt more than knowing the sense of unbelonging she felt inside her own family, because he understood it in his core.

“How could that ever make you bad?” He whispered, gently reaching up, and resting his hand on her cheek. “I may have disowned my family before the pain of them disowning me could set in, but that does not mean I don’t understand feeling left out. Feeling…alone. Invisible.”

Tamlin slowly dropped his hand as she turned to face the nature around them and adopted a similar stance, instead, letting his long legs stretch into the grass as he lay with his arms back behind his head. He watched her, watch the world. She was so quiet. So observant. Yet, her family were fools if they could not see her beauty, or her worth.

“No.” He swallowed. “Fate is a lazy man’s way of excusing his poor choices. For every action we take, there is an equal or opposite reaction, right? Choice has consequence. While I admire…

“Romance,” Tamlin could not help the smile that inched up his face, nor the blush that tinted his ears. “It is no excuse for the way a man chooses to live.”

He sat up, inching closer toward her. “Being here, with you, right now…is a choice.”

Tamlin once again found himself caught up in her gaze. “One I am particularly glad I made.”

The soft spring air drifting across the eastern meadows let Tamlin drift away on the puffy white clouds that scattered across the soft blue sky. The warm breeze and bright sun on his skin refreshed him and left him floating off into a warm daze. Feyre’s hand kept him anchored to the moment and the ground. Otherwise, the high fae very well might have begun floating. He rubbed his thumb over her palm in slow circles.

Her fingers were calloused, but he didn’t mind that in the slightest. Each groove in her thumb or line in her palm was the mark of some injury or achievement. High Fae could endure life altering pain and it would barely leave a mark unless the weapon were made of a particular caliber. Tamlin still felt every wound, but there were scars he could not show.

He liked hers. They were marks of being living and real. She was something that he could hold onto when everything around him erupted in storms. Feyre was no darling. She had her thorns, her bolts, and her bruises — but the more that he learned of her, the more dear to him she became. She never stopped fighting, whether it was for the last piece of chocolate cake or his time and attention. Only recently had he seen her truly relax.

He heard her words and contemplated them - before answering.

“It was a childhood dream of mine,” He said slowly, biting his lip. “I didn’t always stay at the manor and my Mother and I sometimes took days near the lake in a small cabin when I was small. Being with her was different. We were a different family than what everyone saw at court. There was no greater bliss than spending evenings on the dock by her side and drawing with glowing chalk late into the night.”

“I guess I can’t say I wanted a whole new family.” His brow wrinkled. “I just wanted to be away from the spectacle…the scrutiny.”

He opened his eyes and turned his head to face her, shyly catching her gaze. His soft green eyes piqued with both curiosity and nerves.

“I’d like to think we would be.” He whispered. “That paths cross for a reason. What do you think, Feyre? Do you believe in fate?

She certainly was awkward, but Tamlin found it more charming than annoying. He had his own struggles, socially, it to as often why he stuck with saying as little as possible or relying on Lucien to give the passionate speeches when his mind could not connect with his lips. He could write letters, poetry, music. His command of words was not the problem — it was speaking them. 

He tapped his face ngers on the desk, watching her closely as she stumbled through a few sentences. She didn't ramble when nervous, as he was prone too, which was good. There was so much he'd shared about his life simply because he had not known what to say. The longer he'd been High Lord, the more often he found that people did not want to know about his personal life or hear his burdens. Their own were already far too heavy. He was there as a figure head, a fixer, and High Fae. He did not get the chance to be weak. 

Tamlin pressed his lips into a firm line. She is young, he thought. Elain’s age, perhaps.

The hundred years of life experience of being born fae had not caught up to her in grace, experience, or otherwise. She was much like a kitten in that way. 

“Lady Briar, you do not need to make excuses for yourself in my presence. You are a lot of living beings with needs and priorities and it is my duty as the High Lord to ensure that those are provided for…” 

He swallowed. “As I said before and you astutely noticed, Spring is holding tentative ground without allowing people through our walls. In the last two weeks alone, I have attended more funerals than I would care to admit. The war is over, but death does not end.” 

He cautiously met her eyes. “I understand your concerns for your family. I do…”

Tamlin sighed. She wasn't wrong. Much of this, he did carry alone. Lucien had a family now. The majority of his friends were long dead. The one person he'd hoped to be with was little more than a walking reminder of his pain, at this point. Sometimes, his music and his alone time in nature were the only two things which got him through. “Yet, I hope you understand that I had to learn the hard way about prioritizing my personal feelings over my duties.”

A combination of regret and grief flashed across his face for a mere second before it disappeared. “I am blessed that those moments of weakness did not bring my court to complete ruin.”

Almost — Almost. 

“Right now, crossing the border is just as dangerous to Caiden as it is to remain where he is and I know you desire first and foremost for his safety.” 

Tamlin tapped his feet on the wooden floor. “However, I do have an alternative solution. If you are open to avoiding the reckless pursuit of bringing him here yourself.”

the secret side of me @springcourthighlady

It had been a long day — too long. Tamlin was tired and his head ached after spending so long reading contracts and documents with his courtiers and emissaries. He tried not to wear his glasses in court, but now in the soft light of the setting sun, he was happy to have them to assist as he opened his book to the marked page and began to read. 

The rose garden was his place of solace and comfort. Whenever his spirit was worn, he came here to rest. Very few knew of the small path off the manicured way that led to a small grove of trees and wild roses. He’d swung a hammock between two of them and rested between the branches, letting the wind sway him back and forth. 

In the middle of the chapter, an innocent giggle sprang to life from the pages of the old fairytale that he was reading. Tamlin rubbed his head. Am I that tired?

He yawned and tried to focus again on the swirling letters, but the laughter again distracted him. 

He knew that sound. His ears quirked up and his green eyes brightened.

Nyx! 

His excitement was followed by an equally intense rush of anxiety

Feyre. 

Tamlin peered over the hedges. A flash of black curls revealed the toddler running from his guardian.

He did it! His heart swelled with pride. By the cauldron — I hope she’s not too mad at me.

Nyx stopped, spotting him through the branches. “Tamtam!” 

The toddler rushed through the secret entrance and tackled his legs, knocking him to the ground. Tamlin yelped, suddenly upside down, but happily surrounded by hugs from his favorite tiny fae. 

He lifted Nyx up into the air, making dragon sounds, until he saw a lovely young woman peeking around the edge of the brambles. His face turned red, hot, and he stood up quickly. His posture stiffened, though the color didn’t fade from his cheeks, or ears. 

“Lady…” It took him a moment to place her. He did try to keep track of everyone who lived in Spring, but the increasing amount of names was making that difficult. “Rose? Was it? Lady Rose?” 

I write you letters that you'll never read Paint you pictures you will never see In all my life I never thought I'd be Living without you

tamlin would 100% brush your hair and hold you tightly, offering you silent comfort after a bad day.