The Autumn Court was not a welcoming place for a growing son of the High Lord. It was especially known for its cutthroat nature. In Prythian, the strongest son took the throne, not the eldest.

But Lucien was never worried about becoming High Lord. He concerned himself with other things.

Like friends, and parties, and women.

One woman in particular.

You.

You were a fae of no status. Just a regular girl born into Prythian.

His friend had introduced you to him, and it was love at first sight.

He fell hard and fast. And so did you. Lucien didn’t care about status. Nobody expected him to become High Lord anyway, so he assumed he could marry you and live his life away from the politics.

But when his father found out, he was angrier than Lucien thought.

A lot angrier.

Before he knew it, Lucien was being restrained by two of his brothers and forced to watch his father torture you.

It was agonizing, hearing your scared screams, seeing your terrified expression as his father did things to you that Lucien would never be able to unsee.

Lucien doesn’t remember much, but before he knew it he was running as fast as his legs could take him and you were in his arms, bloody and unconscious.

He thought it was the end when he finally made it to the Spring Court. He would never be the same. Your screams of terror would always haunt him.

But a few of his brothers had followed him.

They knew he was weak and vulnerable, and getting rid of him would mean one less competitor for the throne.

Luckily Tamlin was there to help, but Lucien suffered his own injuries as well.

Tamlin took the two of you in, vowing that you were safe in his court.

Finally.

…

You and Lucien sit in the spare room Tamlin offered you two. You two were finally safe. Safe from Lucien’s father, Lucien’s brothers. You could live the rest of your lives the way you always dreamed: together.

Yet you two sit in silence. You felt anything but relief.

Lucien looks over at you. You were still covered in blood.