Rhaemarys

The Spring Manor is a monstrosity of power if I ever saw one. It's disgusting, covered in all those flowers as if it were just one more massive rose bush with a few white pillars sparsely hidden behind all the leaves. What's even more abysmal is the ease in which I entered this apparently guarded manor. Admittedly, magic, spells, glamorous none of that works on me.

It didn't work on the dragons and it was a trait passed on through those little vials and tubes during the experiments.

Calamari is in full swing though so I'll give his guards a pity pass for letting me through without question at the entrance to the manor grounds with the crowd, but letting me into the manor? That was a security oversight. All it took was one side door left open with all the haste and preparations, one guard to leave his post in favour of getting laid and I'm prowling the High Lord's study.

I carefully sift through the papers, not touching them more than a gentle nudge to slide the sheets of paper over each other. Easing opens draws with a practice quiet and picking the locks with an ease I forgot I possessed.

Mother above I'm enjoying this little mission.

It's been a long time since I've been out in the field and got the adrenaline.

I know the Day court medics want me to take it easy, they're so afraid of battle shock and my powers mixing but there's something freeing about being in control again. Having a purpose and a goal. Caring for Feyre, for an unknown reason, with an undefined timeline or end goal is boring beyond comparison.

Suriel better know what he's doing.

The papers are of little interest to me, nothing more than taxes, manor plans and village issues. He seems to be taking stock of what should be tithed yet not charging it so I assume he's waiting till after Amarantha's reigns to get the court back to normal. But I swear to the mother if these taxes aren't going to the upheld of the village and public services and straight into his pocket instead I'm coming back and fucking with his personal accounts before fixing the damn economy myself.

I really hate tyrants.

"I heard a rumour that all the fun is happening outside." I stiffen at the silky drawl, grateful that I am merely peering out the window as the male's soft footsteps draw closer. "Yet you're lurking in this little decrepit office."

"Lurking?" I question, a smirk tugging at my lips as I regain my composure enough to turn and face the stranger-

Fuck.

He's hot.

A low laugh laced with enough violence to have my toes curling resounds through the office and I curse my stupid face and its stupid dumbfound expressions.

"I'm going to take that look as a compliment."

"I'm mean, sure if you're a superficial bastard." I shrug delicately, sliding into the office chair of power and propping my feet upon the Lord of Spring's desk as the violet eyed stranger perches on the corner.

His gaze is fixed on me, open curiosity that is no doubt reflected in my eyes as we take a moment to observe the other. Sharp suit, expensive, silver thread details, Night Court obviously, pointed high fae ears, sunken cheeks, pale skin and that look- the one I'll never forget.

It's hard to forget it when you've seen it in the mirror for years.

For a second, just a single moment of weakness I'm staring into the face of my kin as they drown in grief. As they succumb to the experiment's side effects. That animalistic feeling simmers beneath my skin, waking up as the memories threaten to over flow.

"You look how I feel." I croak, voice oddly thick and he blinks in surprise but I tilt my head in a purely predatory manner that has him stiffening. "Come, we need to get some food in you."

Surprise coats his features but he doesn't protest as I tug him to his feet and lead him from the office. His hand is rough with old calluses that have gone unused yet there's a comforting weight to-

What am I thinking? Oh for the love of- stupid, stupid brain. Thinking with your vagina and not your head. Although my head is no better, filled with inappropriate thoughts of the grieving male behind me. He's clearly traumatised and here I am fantasieing about those hands of his, with those sharp veins that fle with each- stop it, stupid brain just shut up... But there is something so alluring about him.

Perhaps not a playmate as his looks would suggest but a kindred soul if I ever saw one.

The male makes no protests as I gently tug him through the hallways, following me as I peer into the various rooms in search of the kitchen. I can feel his confusion brewing, along with his irritation yet- yet the exhaustion that has his shoulders caving in seems to stop him from truly getting angry at me. From truly questioning if I could be a threat.

Stupid really. Especially for someone of such high rank.

"Tell me," He murmurs, voice soft and low as though fearful of breaking the tentative truce between us. "Is it common among your people to have silver hair?"

"Is it common among yours to have violet eyes?"

I swear I can feel his lips twitch beneath the pretty little mask of his.

"I don't know what you mean, they're a stunning rich blue."

"And I'm a redhead."

Darkness clogs my throat, the scent of sadness, grief turning the air around us pungent and I clear my throat to break the tension. The kitchen is empty but trashed when we enter and a casual wave of his hand that serves to hide the tremendous power I can feel beneath his skin has the place clearing up.

Yet there's sweat on his brow as if it were a struggle. He's under the High Queens curse then - or one of her curses at least.

It's easy to find the various pots and pans and I thank dearest Tamlin for maintaining a fully stocked pantry. My companion has taken a seat at the large kitchen table and I waste no time in placing a chopping board, knife, peppers and onions before him.

"I'm a high-"

"Not here." I tiredly interrupt his snobbish complaints, taking great satisfaction in cutting off his indignant tone. "Here, it is just you and me. There shall be no masks or lies."

I turn to face him, letting him see the truth in my face as he looks at me with that same fascination. That weird little urge to know every detail about the person before us. I think I have some kind of people-disorder. Separation Anxiety? Stockholm syndrome?

Separation-from-my-family-so-I-cling-to-the-first-male-I-see syndrome?

He imperceptibly nods and begins cutting the veg with the precision of a soldier. Good, I like a male who knows his way around a knife- get a fucking grip. Holy Flames of Alabaster I need to pull my shit together. Is it my time of month? Or ovulation period I guess but that presence in the back of my mind hasn't retreated. Their thoughts fog my own and I hide the nervous tremor of my hands at the implications. The consequences I'm so keen to forget.

We work in silence and I begin to cook off some fancy rosemary chicken and boil the- I don't know what language it is but the familiar symbol makes me think day court and what I hope is rice within the paper package. Surely the world hasn't changed that much since I was last free.

Soon there is nothing left for us to do, the food quietly cooks away behind me as I take a seat opposite the dark haired male. I tilt my head to the side, aware that I'm mimicking my dragon forebears yet unable to stop the little mannerism that I had previously trained out of myself.

He seems as captivated by me as I am by him.

"Do you like risotto?" I ask the question almost perverse in our comfortable silence but his lips twitch at my question.

"I do." I fight down a shudder at the sheer dark dominance of his voice. "Why are you cooking me food?"

It's more of an order than a question and I rise from my chair to lean over the table, unable to stop the urge to poke at his sunken cheek.

"You need to eat. You are losing strength." He stares owlish at my hand, the finger that prods his cheek. The dent holds for a moment before sinking away and if that isnt a sign of sevre dehydration I don't know what is. There's a shocked silence as we both contemplate the double meaning of my words, of my actions. You look like shit little fae and I don't know how else to help you without getting into the nitty gritty details. "A bit of sunlight would do you some good but we shall have to settle for eating under the stars."

"I don't mind the company of Night." It's his turn to croak wistfully and I sit back in my seat, comforted by the fact we are both caught off guard by the weird little tug between us.

"Well this is fucking weird." I state and he lets out a breath of relief.

"Oh thank the mother, I thought it was just me." I grin at his little comment and his eyes light up at the sight of my half smile. "What exactly were you doing in sweet Tamlin's office?"

"Now that's a secret." I pout slightly, delighting in the way his gaze drops to my lips at the movement. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"I'd like to see you try." He croons but I don't miss the way his eyes darken at the thought he has no doubt considered. "You've got some arrogance to openly threaten a High Lord."

I was really hoping my suspicions would be wrong. But what can I say, I'm attracted to rich powerful arseholes and he fits the description pretty well.

"And you have to be one of the most naive High Lords I have ever met." I arch a brow in challenge as he gives me a mock offended look. "Following a stranger through the darkened halls, accepting food and conversation-"

"We haven't eaten yet." He points out, jabbing a fork in my direction and I look down to see the table set for a romantic dinner before us.

"Get rid of the candles Peitho." I command with an eye roll as I rise to my feet. A clang of metal has me peering back at the little lordling who dropped his cutlery in surprise as he stares at me with wonder. "You study ancient culture? The old gods?"

Right. Old Gods.

I'm fucking ancient aren't I. Is this considered cradle robbing? I dish up the chicken risotto, placing a plate before my companion before taking my own seat once more. He waits, not touching the food as he stares at me like a giddy child who got a new shining toy. Of course... he would have been forced to study this as a child. Not many kids were interested in Archaic knowledge back in my- Mother give me strength. I'm sounding like my grandfather.

"Well?" He prompts, his curiosity slowly warping into distrust.

"I am... " How to word this, because the thought of lying to him has me feeling sick. "Not exactly the age you see me as."

It comes out more of a question and his brows furrowed in confusion.

"How old are you?"

I gasp, "You should never ask a lady her age."

"Tell me if you see a lady and I'll make sure not to ask her." He snarks before narrowing his eyes at me. "Please don't tell me I'm flirting with a grandmother."

"First of all, this better not be your standard of flirting. Secondly... Grandmother!" He rightfully winces and holds up his hands in apology. "Do I look like some wizened old hag to you?"

"Well-"

"I will gouge your eyes-"

"There's no need to get aggressive."

We pause at the sound of laughter down the hall, both of us tensing and I decide its time to take the food outside. The High Lord must have the same idea because he's grabbing both our plates in seconds and tilting his head in a curious gesture clearly means 'follow me'.

I should be bothered by how easy it is to just follow him blindly but I guess it's my turn to put my trust in a complete stranger.

A/N: Anything specific you would like to see between Rhae and Rhys?

What do you think of their first interaction