Queue Never Saw Me - Tumblr Posts
Random Legolas Greenleaf moments: 216/216 | Moments from The Hobbit Trilogy too short for their own post.
Tamlin wasn’t fine. He hasn’t been fine for years. He wasn’t certain that he ever had been and didn’t believe that he could be again. Going under the mountain had been hell itself. The only thing that made it survivable for the weeks before Feyre appeared was praying for his own death. He’d waited and wondered — completely silenced, under Amarantha’s bonds.
Then, there had been Feyre. Something in him broke when he saw her being manhandled by the Attor.
“I SET YOU FREE!” He wanted to scream. “All I wanted was for you to live.”
He remembered banging his head against the hard throne carved from the rocks to which he’d been chained. No, no, no.
The room went fuzzy. Blood poured down his temples until Amarantha’s hand rose from her lap and forced him to be still.
She could control his body, but she could not control his tears. Those were all his own.
Tamlin focused on the distant lights of the village, losing track of where he was until his chest began to ache again.
What had the physician called it? Stress cardiomyopathy. Broken heart syndrome.
When Feyre backed down the aisle, he remembered a dull ache start in his diaphragm. It exploded as she ran away. He would have followed her, but all he could do was fall to his knees…in front of his people. His entire court saw his heart break in two.
He did not remember much after that — only the distant call of Lucien’s voice, pretty lights, and more pain than he remembered in a hundred years.
“Be honest,” Tamlin’s throat was raw as he briefly met Lucien’s eyes. They glowed in the dark like golden stars. “Neither of us are fine. No one is — not after what happened; but we joke and we laugh because otherwise we would start screaming.”
He fiddled with the edge of his tunic, running his claw down the center of his opposite hand. He did not wound himself, but the idea…it was soothing.
He knew Lucien would take the blow before letting him be hurt. Where did he go?
“Anywhere, everywhere.” Tamlin pulled his knee up to his chest and rested his chin there. “My memory has gone dim and my heart aches, but my soul remembers. As much as I may try to make all of this to poetry, some days it turns out that the blood was never beautiful. It’s just very red.”
Red like the roses he’d planted with his mother.
Red like the petals which Feyre so feared.
Red like the line on his palm as he lost focus and his claw broke the skin.
“Anywhere away from here.” He said, leaning forwards, and lying on Lucien’s waiting shoulder with a low groan. “I can’t take one more sunrise without her, Lu. It’s killing me.”
“you okay?” from Lucien
Tamlin finally turned his head the third time that Lucien spoke. He had a gift for zoning out and tonight was no different. He stood on the balcony, watching the sun drift into the darkening sky, and faced the general direction of Night Court. It had been six days, twelve hours, fifty-nine minutes, and twelve seconds. By morning, Feyre was supposed to be home. If she was not, there was little his people could do to stop him from winnowing to Rhysand’s gate and demanding her return.
“Huh?” His glazed, green eyes drifted towards the faithful Autumn Fae who’d long kept him company. “Sorry —”
Was he okay? Tamlin’s memory prompted him to answer, but he quickly found that he did not know what to say. Was he okay? No. It had been a long time since things were okay for Tamlin. Yet, Lucien knew that. His question held more beneath the surface.
How was he, really? How was his heart? Did he still wish it were solid stone?
“I’m…fine.” Tamlin whispered, avoiding eye contact, and swallowed his shame. “This is my fault, Lucien. Perhaps if I had not told her how I felt, she never would have come after me.”
He knit his fingers together and hoisted himself up to sit on the stone railing of the third floor balcony. That short a fall wouldn’t injure him, but the allure of danger was just enough that it helped quiet the ache in his chest. “Are you…okay?”
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?
@thehighlordofspring sent: ‘it feels nice…being here with you.’
Feyre was coming to terms with her freedom now and even so it felt weird to sometimes not think about her family even though she could feel the hole in her heart where they should be. Looking up at the clear blue sky she turned her head to change her view to the male laying next to her. Tamlin, she once thought of him as her jailer, but now she had a completely different view of him. He rescued her in a way from the life that she was living and she was thriving in his court.
One hand reached out to touch his as she looked back up at the sky a little smile touching her lips. "It feels nice being here with you too." She closed her eyes enjoying the feeling of the sun on her skin letting it tan her further than she had already become living here. He could leave her in this field and Feyre would take a nap on the plush grass dreaming about all of the things this meadow made her want to paint. "Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you were born to a different family?" She asks quietly not daring to look at him.
"Do you think we would have been like this if you were born human like me?" Now she opened her eyes rolling her head over so that she could study the planes of his face from her view.
Lucien’s simple actions and suggestions were as they always had been—calming. Tamlin laid his head on Lucien’s shoulder and closed his eyes. The darkness was soothing. His eyes were dry, tired. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d last slept properly. A few days? A week? Nights were miserable. He couldn’t find solace in the room they shared, so he often spent the dark hours pacing the castle halls until he passed out and dawn crept over him. Lucien’s presence was familiar and comforting. Comfort was something which he didn’t readily get from Feyre. Their bond ran deep, but so did their fears. It often left them floating as two separate islands in one bed. This was different. Tamlin felt some of his fear begin melting away as his best friend held him up.
“People are talking anyway.” Tamlin whispered bitterly. There were whispers of his ability to lead ever since the failed wedding. Leaders did not fall to their knees in front of their subjects — not of a broken heart. He wished Feyre had stabbed him in the gut. At least then, people wouldn’t be looking at him the way the did. “I can’t go out on the street without someone staring at me like they’ve seen a ghost.”
The High Lord gripped the edge of the stone railing so firmly that his arms began to shake. He looked up, meeting Lucien’s golden eyes, and faltered under their compassion. Moonlight glowed on his pale face and wavered along his watery lashes. Tamlin didn’t cry—not for anyone; anyone except Lucien Vanserra. “What’s the point, Lu? I feel like one. Even when she’s here, she doesn’t see me. No one does…no one but you.”
Tamlin wasn’t fine. He hasn’t been fine for years. He wasn’t certain that he ever had been and didn’t believe that he could be again. Going under the mountain had been hell itself. The only thing that made it survivable for the weeks before Feyre appeared was praying for his own death. He’d waited and wondered — completely silenced, under Amarantha’s bonds.
Then, there had been Feyre. Something in him broke when he saw her being manhandled by the Attor.
“I SET YOU FREE!” He wanted to scream. “All I wanted was for you to live.”
He remembered banging his head against the hard throne carved from the rocks to which he’d been chained. No, no, no.
The room went fuzzy. Blood poured down his temples until Amarantha’s hand rose from her lap and forced him to be still.
She could control his body, but she could not control his tears. Those were all his own.
Tamlin focused on the distant lights of the village, losing track of where he was until his chest began to ache again.
What had the physician called it? Stress cardiomyopathy. Broken heart syndrome.
When Feyre backed down the aisle, he remembered a dull ache start in his diaphragm. It exploded as she ran away. He would have followed her, but all he could do was fall to his knees…in front of his people. His entire court saw his heart break in two.
He did not remember much after that — only the distant call of Lucien’s voice, pretty lights, and more pain than he remembered in a hundred years.
“Be honest,” Tamlin’s throat was raw as he briefly met Lucien’s eyes. They glowed in the dark like golden stars. “Neither of us are fine. No one is — not after what happened; but we joke and we laugh because otherwise we would start screaming.”
He fiddled with the edge of his tunic, running his claw down the center of his opposite hand. He did not wound himself, but the idea…it was soothing.
He knew Lucien would take the blow before letting him be hurt. Where did he go?
“Anywhere, everywhere.” Tamlin pulled his knee up to his chest and rested his chin there. “My memory has gone dim and my heart aches, but my soul remembers. As much as I may try to make all of this to poetry, some days it turns out that the blood was never beautiful. It’s just very red.”
Red like the roses he’d planted with his mother.
Red like the petals which Feyre so feared.
Red like the line on his palm as he lost focus and his claw broke the skin.
“Anywhere away from here.” He said, leaning forwards, and lying on Lucien’s waiting shoulder with a low groan. “I can’t take one more sunrise without her, Lu. It’s killing me.”
“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?
forbidden love prompts
“we can’t keep meeting like this, someone will find out.”
“every moment we spend together is a risk, but I can’t stay away.”
“if anyone sees us, it will be the end for both of us.”
“i know it’s dangerous, but I can’t help how I feel about you.”
“just one kiss, then we have to go back to pretending.”
“no one can know about this, promise me.”
“i shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t stay away.”
“what if someone sees us? what then?”
“every time I see you, I have to remind myself that it’s forbidden.”
“we’re playing with fire, and we both know it.”
“i wish things were different, but they’re not.”
“this is the last time, we can’t keep doing this.”
“if they find out, we’ll both be in so much trouble.”
“i’ve tried to forget about you, but it’s impossible.”
“they warned me about you, but I didn’t listen.”
tamlin would 100% brush your hair and hold you tightly, offering you silent comfort after a bad day.
Tamlin listened and spoke slowly, in turn. "You aren't too much."
He directed the horses through the clearing and into a faster pace as the morning continued to race on. The last thing he wanted to do was trap Briar in the forest at midnight for a second time. That seemed unfair. "I think you just have too much heart to give. Enough that it leaks out from time to time. Perhaps, if you showed yourself the same care and concern, life would not always feel so frightening."
He pointed to a small trail off the larger, beaten path. "I don't tend to take my own advice, but I know it's the same for myself. I might not trust very many people, but those who've earned that I consider family."
He led her toward the pond and pointed to a a shallow edge, where the soil softened into mud. "Blueberries, usually. Though, they do like bread. It's just not good for them. Like my own appreciation for almond biscuits."
This is Me Trying (ft. @springcourthighlady)
Tamlin was warm. He floated on the soft cloud of rest that sheltered his body with comfort and his mind with peace. His chest rose and fell in a natural rhythm as the birds in the trees began to trill just before morning light. There was a weight on his shoulder. During the night, he’d casually drifted to and away from Briar until they fell asleep for good with her hand resting over his heart. The High Lord slowly opened his eyes and blinked in the early morning sun, adjusting the relaxation in his limbs.
Where am I? What happened?
Tamlin rubbed his eyes and woke with a soft groan. He grasped his head, freshly aware of the pain lingering there, and discouraged by the lack of progress wish his efforts to sleep. The curl of her fingers was enough to fully open his eyes and begin waking to the world around him. When he did, Tamlin became hyper conscious of the way Briar’s hand rested on his chest.
His heart leapt into his throat and he carefully unthreaded her body from around his own, leaving behind his close call from the night before. Tamlin scratched the back of his head and stepped over Briar while she snoozed. What is going on?
He pushed past the opening of the tent, thankful that she slept soundly and he had a few moments to settle his nerves and try to gather what had happened, yet no matter how hard he tried the memory would not resurface. What happened? What had he done? Tamlin walked into the fresh spring breeze and found some odd relief from the stress and tension which he normally awoke to at dawn. The likelihood was just that they’d both been cold and huddled together for maximum shelter.
Still, he had a difficulty with eye contact as Briar emerged from the tent and he handed her a plate of warm breakfast, complete with a carefully sliced red apple and the last of the bread. They had a half day of travel left in the woods, but would have to take shelter in an inn tonight. Hopefully, the provisions would be plentiful.
“Good-morning.” Tamlin mumbled, shyly glancing up between bites of food. “Are you ready for an adventure?”
