The High Lord Remembers - Tumblr Posts
4, 15, 16 for the character ask
Ask the High Lord | Character Portrayal Questions ✨
4. Favorite line
“I love you,” He whispered, and kissed my brow. “Thorns and all.”
15. Worst thing they’ve ever done
During one of the most intense battles between the humans and the faeries, Tamlin found himself protecting a group of both human children from a terrible onslaught of beasts. He managed to winnow eleven of them to safety. By then, the conflict had been over twenty four hours. Even his great wells of strength were fading. The twelfth child waited for him in a nearby church, hiding between the benches. He arrived just in time to place his hand over the little boy’s mouth before he screamed in terror and alerted the nearby fae. Yet, they saw him anyway. Tamlin’s ability to fight was greatly barred by the child’s instinct to run away. As he struck the killing blow to one of his own, the little one ran in front of him and accidentally ended his own life on Tamlin’s blade.
He didn’t scream. He simply looked his guardian in the eye and thanked him for trying.
Tamlin screamed.
He screamed while holding the tiny, bloody body and watching life fade out of it.
He screamed in the night when the images forced their way back into his mind.
He still does — in his heart — every time he walks through his own village and sees a small fae playing in the sun.
The worst thing he’s ever done was not save the last one when even the last of them deserved to be saved.
16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves
Tamlin blames himself for his mother’s death. His father was a senselessly violent man, who had two sons by the time that his mother conceived him. For nearly all his life, he listened to his father berate her over his existence. Often, his father claimed that she had cheated with another behind his back. These senseless allegations started before he was born. Six months into her pregnancy, his father attacked his own mate and she nearly lost her own life — not to mention her child. After that, she moved as far away from the manor as she could and into a cabin on the shores of Lake Naimore, which bordered the Winter Court.
This was where his mother birthed him and raised him for the first three years of his life. When he was five, the High Lord of Spring demanded a paternity potion — which quickly backfired in his face.
Tamlin was his son.
Faced with a son whom he’d never wanted and a mate whom he’d all but destroyed his connection to — Tamlin and his mother were reluctantly welcomed back to the Spring Court.
She was very protective over him. The abuse often continued.
Tamlin was often the one who bound up his mother’s wounds after she came back from a conversation with his father. Then, he transformed into a barrage of tiny animals to help her smile again.
The stress slowly took its toll on her. She retreated more often into her chambers as he grew up, but his loyalty never wavered.
His mother held one powerful card over his father — a secret, one that the High Lord never wanted discovered.
This kept Tamlin safe from his physical tirades except for once. The one time that he looked his father square in the eyes and said, “One day I will be big enough to hit you back.”
His mother died when he was eighteen. “It was her heart,” they said. “She’d gone through too much.”
No. Tamlin thought to himself. It was me. If I had never been born, she would still be dancing with the roses.
💔
f*cked up kissing asks | a kiss which will be forgotten
Moonlight streamed through the open window, bidding Tamlin’s eyes to a reluctant waking. It wasn’t day, but it certainly wasn’t night. It was witching hour, when all the creatures rose for their second stir — including him. He’d never slept through the night. Not in five hundred years. Yet, he did not want this one to end. A part of him could not bear to open his eyes for the fear of seeing Feyre draped across the bed, half naked and completely his.
He covered them with his palm. He could feel her stirring by his side. She needed sleep. There was a long battle ahead of them. Hopefully, his plan would work and she would escape safely across the border before the evils of Pyrthian could touch her anymore than they already had.
Tamlin wanted Feyre to be safe. If it was the last thing he ever did — he wanted to know that her life could go on in her own realm with only the memory of him to grace her.
Unless — she truly loved him. Is that even possible? He wondered.
His heart ached in his chest. Tamlin lowered his hand from his face as his heart began to pulse rapidly in his chest. He couldn’t panic. This was not the time to panic. This was not the time to look back.
He took in two deep breaths, struggling to ground himself inside what he knew had to happen. This was goodbye.
This is goodbye.
Feyre reached across the mattress as she heard him struggling to breathe. The High Lord forced himself to be quiet, but relinquished to the soft touch of her fingers tracing his upper arms.
Hands off…Tamlin had agreed, yet he’d still fallen asleep in her arms. They tempted him again. With a heavy sigh, he rolled over into the sheets and wrapped his strong arms around her lithe shoulders. She relaxed against him, with a soft sigh.
Oh, Feyre. Tamlin pressed his face into the bare crook of her neck, leaving soft kisses over the subtle bite marks from before. He’d marked her body the same way she’d marked his soul. How am I ever going to do this without you?
She was his mate. His heart, his mind, his body — all pulled him to stay in this bed. Yet, Tamlin knew that if he did not get up…he would be the cause of her death.
He pulled back slowly, painfully.
Feyre protested in her sleep, clinging to his arm. Her nails left a mark. “High…lord.” She murmured. “Don’t go…I lov…”
Tamlin backed away. The last word. It made the room begin to glow, but her sleep again darkened it. A conundrum of feelings stormed across his face and he tore himself away from the bed, angrily swiping away hot tears that dared to fall from his eyes.
He walked towards the bedroom door, leaving behind what could have been his perfect future.
For her good. He told himself.
He didn’t mean to do it.
He shouldn’t have.
Tamlin looked back over his shoulder. Feyre breathed evenly, a soft smile on her features.
He walked quickly back towards her, pushing her hair behind her face, and delicately pressing his lips against her forehead. “Goodbye, Feyre. I love you. You are the beating heart of the spring court.”
Tamlin stood up and forced himself to leave the room, ignoring the way his entire body was shaking. This was it. He had made his choice. Some kisses were meant to be forgotten.
I know that in the morning
I'll see us in the light up on the hill
Although I am broken, my heart is untamed still
@tamlinweek
🚪
Patrolling the border was safer than it used to be. This was the only reason that Tamlin felt comfortable occasionally staying behind and burying himself in library research — still trying to find a magical solution to the blight. On those instances, he always left Lucien in charge. His second in command had proven himself a capable leader more than once.
He kept a cool head, and used his wits both in battle and out. The advantages were tenfold. The disadvantages were minimal, but…obvious. Of all his men, Lucien had the most difficult time forming a relationship with his horse. It was ironic. He was silver tongued with people, but his steed knew snakes weren’t to be trusted. Tamlin had the opposite problem. He had a much easier time talking to animals than people. He understood animals.
Taming Lucien’s horse had not been simple, but after nearly a year of waking up before dawn and working together — Tamlin had structured a treaty between the two of them. Even if it was tenuous.
His morning was spent in books written in the language of the old fae. Translating it was no easy task. By mid afternoon he had a headache. That headache transformed into a cat nap.
Only the loud commotion in the hallway woke him. Clamor, clash, and clang — Tamlin jolted awake from his feline slumber. He accidentally morphed back into his own body, and began falling down a very high shelf — which was no proper resting place for a fae of six foot two.
More crashing.
Tamlin frowned, grumbling to himself about cats and their tendency for misadventure.
The commotion in the other room had not ceased. He rubbed his head, exiting the library, and walking towards the source of the noise. Indeed, his company had returned; but unexpectedly they were all circled around two chairs in the middle, which held Lucien with his leg propped up.
Alis was tending to it.
“By the cauldron!” Tamlin rubbed his eyes, hoping that he was dreaming. “What happened to you?”
Lucien scowled and pointed out the open door to the dappled gray, grinning horse. “Why not you ask her? It’s her fault!”
“Really —“ Tamlin started. Blame the horse? Was Lucien serious?
“It’s broken.” Alis confirmed.
Tamlin’s mouth fell open. Fae rarely broke bones.
“Shut your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” Lucien grumbled.
“You’re serious?” Tamlin tilted his head, looking from Lucien to the horse. “Explain.”
“Bucked me off the saddle.” Lucien said plainly.
“Stupid horse.” Tamlin mumbled, glaring out the door at the beast.
He’d have a serious conversation with him later. Equine to equine. No one hurt his best friend and got away with it.
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