Hated. That's what you and your older brother, Tamlin, were. After the Great War against Hybern, news of Tamlin's inital betrayal spread far and wide, and you were also hated for it, despite not even knowing there was a war. Tamlin had indeed kept you locked up during the entirety of the war, only letting in select servants with food.

It's a habit of his, you understand. After all, he had done the same thing to Feyre.

But, after the war, you finally managed to escape your confines, but still stayed within the Spring Court Estate, for safety, and often stayed out of Tamlin's way. It was as if your brother had no life left in him. He probably didn't even remember your existence.

One fateful day, whilst exploring the library, you hear noises, and quickly duck behind a bookshelf.

Voices you think, Not noises.

Entering the library is your depressed, husk of a brother, and a tall muscular man with large bat wings. Illyrian. You stay silent as you listen into their conversation. The Illyrian seems to be taunting Tamlin. . . Unable to help yourself, you fling out from behind the bookshelf, glare at the winged male.

The Illyrian drawls, "Tamlin, can't you see, you're all alone, and you have no one. Just give up. All of Prythian hates you, and you h-"

"Shut up, Mother above! Can't y-" you cut off with a gasp, as it hits you head on.

Mate, mate, mate. The words thrum in your entire being.

The feeling of being connected to this Illyrian. Not just any winged male.

High Lord of the Night Court, and the most powerful faerie in Prythian.