Work Text:
Note 17.02.2020: It has come to my attention that there are examples of onofficial AO3 apps/websites that generate revenue through ads or subscription fees. I do not consent to my works being hosted on any of these apps/sites. If you are reading this on such an app, please know it is there against my knowledge and/or will.
There's a special kind of pain, Helion thinks, in seeing the face of your lost love reflected elsewhere.
Those are his first thoughts upon meeting the newly appointed emissary of the Spring Court.
He has her eyes.
Helion makes himself greet the emissary - Lucien, her son, her son - with his usual coldness. Forces his eyes to show no emotion as Lucien bows his head slightly. He is still mastering that cold mask, the one Rhysand has perfected over the past century.
It is difficult, so so difficult, to look the young emissary in the eyes, to not fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. I should never have left you with him. I should have gotten you out.
But no, those thoughts are useless. He may have been the one who condemned her but she chose her fate. He offered to get her out, begged her to get herself out. She refused. She carried Beron's child and she would not leave him to be shredded by his brothers.
Out of fear of her husband or love for her son, it made no difference. She chose.
It doesn't stop him from hating the High Lord of the Autumn Court. From imagining tearing Beron limb from limb, from fantasizing about unleashing his beast and seeing just how easily the Autumn Court burns.
And the emissary may look nothing like his father but he still smells of Autumn - the scent of wooden smoke and apples hangs in the air.
They exchange pleasantries and it is clear that the young Fox is a born diplomat. He effortlessly walks the line between friendly and demanding and when he smiles…
Cauldron, he looks just like her.
Helion wondered, earlier, whether this visit was something he could use against Beron. If Beron's son could be used in any way. For a while he even contemplated taking the emissary to bed, to see if that would ruffle Beron's feathers.
But Lucien has been banished from that court, does not want anything to do with his father or his brothers or Autumn - despite how he may still reek of it. And Helion knew, he knows deep down, that the only person who would suffer if he bedded Lucien would be her. That he may have taken other lovers, and she will forgive him that if the time for forgiveness ever comes, but this is a line he cannot cross.
And perhaps he is afraid that he will look at Lucien, as he does now, and see her.
If the world were any different, if the world were right, you would not exist as you are now. The thought comes, unbidden, to Helion's mind. If the world were right she would be mine, and I hers. And if the world were right you would be mine as well. My son, not his.
Those thoughts are useless.
Still, some deep, aching part of him searches Lucien's features. Scans his face, her face, for something that isn't there. Will never be there.
And even if the Fox's nose looks awfully familiar, even if his skin has a darker complexion than his brothers', Helion knows that is not possible, and no amount of wishful thinking will change what never was.