Chapter Text
Seraphina Danaan was as proud as she was cunning. With her fiery orange curls and big brown eyes, hers was a face that could bring High Lords to their knees. She had no intention of getting married any time soon, however. The way Seraphina saw it, she was immortal. What was the need to rush into marriage when her mate could be somewhere nearby? Besides, she enjoyed the freedom of not being in a relationship; her parents had never been able to control her, but somebody else might actually try to suffocate her, and that was a huge no in her book.
Seraphina suddenly remembered she had something important today, and she pulled up her skirts and began sprinting back home. Oh man, her parents were going to be so mad at her.
Her family estate came into her vision, and Seraphina heaved a sigh of relief. Almost there! One last push, and Seraphina slipped in through the side door, hoping no one saw her.
“SERAPHINA ANNABELLE DANAAN!!!” her mother shrieked, storming into the room. Oh boy. Seraphina braced herself for her mother’s lecture. “Look at you! Mud on your boots, food stains on your dress, hair all over the place! You reek of sweat! Have you been hanging out with those dirty poor folk again?”
Seraphina rolled her eyes. “Just because they weren’t born rolling in wealth doesn’t make them dirty, Mother. And they’ve been suffering all the more because of the war. So of course I go to help them, since no one else cares to do so. I’ve told you this about a thousand times!”
“Sure, help them, whatever. But what is the need to hand them your inheritance! That money was for our daughter, not some filthy pigs!” her mother exclaimed.
“It’s my money, so I choose what to do with it! And I choose to help others who need it more than myself,” Seraphina snapped. She pulled off her shoes, moving towards the stairs.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” her mother demanded. Seraphina scrunched her nose in disgust briefly before turning around to answer her. “To take a shower, Mother.”
“Good. We’ll talk later.” Her words almost made Seraphina turn around and walk back outside just to contradict her, but then she decided it wasn’t worth it and continued to walk heavily up the stairs.
Her little sisters, Odette and Clementine, crept out from their hiding spots when Seraphina reached the top of the stairs. It was rare to see such a small age gap between sisters in the land of the Fae, but considering her parents had had difficulty conceiving for many years before finally managing her, Seraphina supposed they got a little excited. As it was, her sisters were twins only 3 years younger than her, though they looked nothing alike. Odette was tall and slender, with golden hair straight as a rod, while Clementine had inherited the indigenous looks of their grandfather: short and curvy, with wavy black hair, deep-set green eyes, and incandescent pink wings. Unfortunately, their parents were often criticizing Clementine’s appearance: their grandmother falling in love with a lesser faerie was an “embarrassing secret” that they wished to bury, and having a daughter that looked like them exposed said “secret” to the world to see.
“Did you go there?” Odette whispered. She meant the villages; they still seemed like a whole other court to the girls, who were often kept inside due to their older sister’s unmarried status. An archaic rule that this family still followed for some reason. The girls yearned to see the outside world but hardly saw anything past the charming life their family insisted on.
“Of course. Oh Odi, Clemmie, when you both turn 18…you will love it out there. The villages are so beautiful with such a rich culture. Their dances are so beautiful and complex, their music haunting, and their food addicting. They’re truly a community; they help each other out, they trade crops with one another, and on Calanmai, they walk on hot coals to prove their mettle.”
Her sisters oohed and aahed at her descriptions of the art there, and Clementine enquired, “Do they like you there?”
Seraphina smiled. “They love me there. I’ve helped out their community so much that they’ve woven me clothes and given me food in gratitude.”
“Do they have wings like me?” Clementine asked. Seraphina nodded. “Some of them do. Now I need to go shower, but I’ll answer all of your questions later.”
Seraphina sighed after she looked in the mirror after the shower. Her curls were always a mess after she washed them, and taking care of them was a pain. She grabbed the Dawn Court Curls potion made by healers and began painstakingly applying it to her hair. It worked so much better than the other nonsense she had tried over the years, since her parents were no help. When she was young, her mother would brush and brush and brush her hair until it puffed up like a balloon from all the frizz. So, Seraphina had figured it out herself.
When she was done, she called the hairdresser and the maid, and they began dressing her and styling her hair. When they were done, her hair was styled up in an elegant bun with choice curls falling into her face. Her dress was a blush pink off-the-shoulder silk gown embroidered with little orange flames all the way down. There was a thin gold belt around the waist, and it came with matching gloves studded with pearls. Seraphina preferred a darker shade of pink, or perhaps a purple, but she couldn’t deny that the dress was beautiful. It matched her blush-pink cheeks and her cherry red lips. But she had no idea why she was all dressed up, and it was never a good thing when her parents hid such a thing from her.
When she walked down the stairs, her sisters in orange and yellow dresses, they looked like a sunset. Her parents beamed upon seeing her.
“Oh Sera, you look so beautiful!” her mother exclaimed. Her father nodded beside her. “You’re all grown up, child,” he said, his voice more emotional than Sera had ever heard it. Now she was terrified. What in the world was going on?
She had a bad feeling that she knew where this was going.
“No,” she said. She glared at her family. “I will not-“
“We couldn’t turn him down, pumpkin,” her father pleaded. “He is the only person more powerful than us.”
Seraphina’s heart dropped to her chest. She had thought that no one could ever force her to marry because of her status as a high noble. The Danaan family was filled with power from many courts and once ruled over Montesere before they were driven out by riots. Though they lost their crown, their influence remained, spreading over the lands they settled in. No one demanded a Danaan in marriage, because everyone knew that if it weren’t a Vanserra on the throne, it would be a Danaan.
Except Beron Vanserra, apparently. He did not give a shit.
Seraphina had turned down marriage proposals without even meeting said person before, but she would be a fool to do the same to a High Lord, particularly one who had risen to power in such brutal fashion. She would hear him out, at the very least.
So, that’s how Seraphina found herself in a carriage, headed towards the Forest House. She stared out the window blankly. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to get married. She wasn’t ready to meet the High Lord. Her parents had met with him, and she had seen him before, but they’d kept the girls far away from him, perhaps for this exact reason. She pressed her lips together.
An outright rejection would be unwise, but perhaps Seraphina could make herself look undesirable to a High Lord. Perhaps she should play a silly, giggly girl. That one never failed to fool the males. No one wanted a vapid lady ruling by their side, right? Beron had clearly chosen their family because he believed he could gain power and influence from it. So take the benefit away, and he would reject her himself.
Best to start upon reaching the palace. A soldier offered his hand to help her descend from the carriage, and Seraphina giggled. “Oh, they didn’t tell me the males at the palace were handsome,” she loudly whispered to Odette, who giggled too. Looking uncomfortable, the soldier withdrew his hand, and Seraphina descended on her own before going on a mad dash towards the castle. “Where is my looooord???” she called out as the guards chased her. Oh, this was so much fun.
“My lady, wait!” one cried, but Seraphina kept running, her smile becoming real as she rejoiced in causing mischief. The guards at the entrance reached for her, but she was much too fast, barging into the building. She spun around in delight as she watched the high ceiling and the painted beauty of it. Then she went back to running. “Oh, how I would love to live here!” she yelled for the soldiers’ benefit.
Even she was surprised at how easily she was evading the soldiers, despite her dress. Though perhaps it had to do with the fact that they did not wish to scare off the future bride of their High Lord. The thought made her run faster still, her bun falling apart as she bumped into a large figure.
When she looked up, her smile nearly faded then and there, but she remembered to keep up the façade. “Oh, you’re so handsome too! It must be something in the water!” she declared.
It was Beron, she knew. Seraphina was by no means short, but she found herself looking up at Beron. His dark brown fur coat draped over his blood red garments delicately threaded in gold. His dark brown hair was gelled to one side, and his beard and mustache were neatly trimmed. It was rare to see one of the High Fae who actually had facial hair; it somehow made him look even more dangerous.
“Lady Danaan,” he said, his voice as cold as she had imagined it in her dreams. It was so hard to keep up her nonchalance being so close to him. She could feel the power radiating from him, the raw fire that stirred inside. She took a step back, praying her pounding heart didn’t betray her fear. “You’ve given my guards quite a fright.”
Seraphina chortled. “They are quite slow, my Lord. I should like to race them properly in pants, next time. See how much faster I really am.”
Beron smiled slightly, but it did nothing to soften his face. “I am Beron Vanserra. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Shall we?”
Seraphina twirled her hair as she sat legs propped up on the couch, laughing to herself. Beron watched her, expressionless. Seraphina waited for the disgust and the rejection.
“Quick question,” Seraphina said. “How much money do I get to spend if I marry you?”
“More than enough to satisfy your needs,” Beron replied. Seraphina stood up and began jumping on the bed.
“Very firm cushions. I should like this sofa in my room,” Seraphina observed. She flipped off the back of the couch, causing her skirt to drop, exposing her legs high in the air. Then she sashayed back over to Beron. “So, when’s the wedding?” she asked. Beron stared at her; was it her imagination, or did he look slightly amused?
“That is to be determined at a later time. Now, why don’t you drop the act and be serious with me?”
“What act?” Seraphina asked, twirling around like the dancers in the villages, bending her head back and sticking one leg up.
“Your materialistic act. I know you are incredibly intelligent and well-liked, Miss Danaan. This game you’re playing doesn’t fool me.”
Seraphina acted offended, gasping and putting a hand to my chest. “Are you calling me materialistic?”
“Enough of this,” Beron said calmly. He got up and slowly approached her until he was looking down at her. He raised his hand and brought it towards her, as though to slap her face.
Instinctively, Seraphina caught his wrist, her fingers digging into the small bones there, letting her fire seep into her hand. Fire wielders had a high amount of resistance to heat, but when directly injected to your skin as such, that resistance decreased significantly. Beron winced slightly before smiling. “There she is,” he purred.
Seraphina realized her gig was up, and glared up at him, mouth pressed in a thin line and teeth clenched. “Fucking asshole,” she snarled. “You would hit a woman?”
“I knew you would block it,” he replied. “I wasn’t really going to hit you.”
Seraphina threw his hand away from her and stormed towards the door. “Hybern could walk to this door right now and say I could end the war by marrying you, and so Mother help me, I’d let Prythian crumble before you get your filthy hands on me, tyrant,” she snapped.
To her utter amazement, Beron wasn’t remotely offended. He kept that small, slightly amused smile on his face. As though she wasn’t even a threat. “There’s that spirit I’ve heard so much about,” he murmured. “A lady so strong with the fire could never be so vapid and weak.”
Sera knew her eyes were glowing when she answered again. “You are nothing but a monster, ruining the lives of people less fortunate than you, and for what? You want for nothing. You could give away a portion of your wealth and it wouldn’t affect you in any way. Yet you won’t. Because you are a selfish, greedy asshole. And I have made it my life’s work to undermine people like you.”
“You can certainly try, love,” Beron whispered as Seraphina slammed the door behind her.
“That fucking bastard!” Seraphina shrieked when she was in the comfort of her own home. She threw her corset at the wall. “Smug smarmy little git who thinks he’s the Mother’s gift to Prythian!” She pulled out the pins in her hair, letting her curls tumble down her back. “Unbelievable.”
“I can’t believe you rejected him so rudely!” her mother exclaimed. “He will kill us all!”
“I would rather die than marry him, Mama!” she cried. “You can flee back to Montesere if you so desire!”
When her mother realized how adamant she was, she just sighed, pinched her nose, and said quietly, “If you are so set against him, so shall it be. Just…be careful sweetheart. I would rather you not die.”
Somehow, Seraphina got the feeling that Beron Vanserra had no intention of killing her despite her outright rejection.
The Autumn Equinox was approaching, and so was the biggest ball of the year. Seraphina had been to far too many of these to count, but never had she gone after refusing an offer of marriage from its host, the High Lord. But Seraphina was not one to back down or hide, least of all from that slimy worm.
Her dress was a deep blue lehenga she had bought in the Dawn Court. Seraphina would love to live there one day- there or the Day Court, the place where her dangling gold earrings had come from. While she adored her people, she felt restricted by the societal norms here- women were offered so little in terms of roles to play, and despite her many attempts to reform, she had been vastly unsuccessful, unlike her campaigns in the villages. Autumn would only be free if Beron were to die, and the only ways to make that happen were to stage a rebellion or go to war from another court. While she would certainly support a rebellion as a cause, there had already been several failed coups, including one heavily backed by her own parents- not out of any philanthropic ideation, unfortunately, but because they wished to take the crown for themselves. From another court, Seraphina could help lead the Autumn faeries to freedom with the backing of a bona fide army. Plus, there was the rich culture she adored in the Solar Courts- with the exception of Night. The other three, however- Dawn, Day, and Dusk- fascinated her. She had been to all the seasonal courts, but the Seasonal and Solar courts have long been at odds with each other, dating back to the Prythian War, which occurred 200 years before Seraphina was born. It followed the departure of Theia, the first and last High Queen of Prythian. The power vacuum left nobles squabbling amongst each other until they formed two factions: the seasonals and the solars. The end result of the war was the formation of the 8 courts. Although the two sides were supposedly amicable, there was still much resentment harbored between each half of the country.
Her sisters wore gowns of emerald and amethyst, looking stunning as Seraphina linked arms with each of them and headed to their carriage. “Now girls, I want you to enjoy yourselves,” she said. Odi and Clemmie vibrated with excitement as they always did. Seraphina couldn’t muster up the same enthusiasm. She grew weary of balls- each one more similar than the last, old rich faeries flaunting their wealth and prestige with one another. However, Seraphina was a social being- she just preferred more casual meet-ups.
As soon as Seraphina found her friend Freya in the crowd, she embraced her. Freya Truth-Teller wore a delightful black gown with swirls of lavender and turquoise- a classic Dusk Court creation. Freya was High Lady of the area- her family came from a line of the ancient Fae who cannot lie, the only known remaining such faeries to this day. Dusk was also unique for its matrilineal inheritance- it had a long, prolific line of female leaders as opposed to men like the other seven courts. It was only natural that such a lady would befriend a lady like Seraphina.
“Sera, you are always a breath of fresh air at these tedious events,” Freya said warmly. Seraphina grinned. “As are you, my friend.”
“Tell me, dear, is it true that you turned down your High Lord in marriage?” Seraphina snorted delicately, nodding. Freya’s eyes widened and she clasped her shoulder in awe. “My goodness, lady. I wasn’t familiar with your game.”
Seraphina turned her neck, glaring at Beron conversing in the middle of the hall. “He’s vile,” Seraphina hissed. “The greatest argument for why the current leadership system should be destroyed.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s ridiculous! You know as well as I how dreadful my brother was, yet the High Fae were so desperate for a man to take charge that he nearly did!” Nearly being the key word there. Seraphina didn’t talk about it because it made her sick, but Freya had gutted her brother and left his remains on the steps beneath the throne while she was crowned. While the male had been a jerk, it still made Seraphina ill that Freya could do such a thing to her own brother. Still, Freya was her closest friend and considering how the rest of the High Fae were, Freya was downright decent. She had only killed her brother after he'd tried to take her crown. Most others didn’t need a reason to kill their own siblings.
The crowd abruptly began to whisper. Seraphina’s ears picked up some of the conversation.
“Who is he?”
“He is rather dashing”
“Dressed like a harlot-“
“Oh, how I would like to-“Seraphina wished she could unhear the rest of that sentence.
Her and Freya turned around, trying to see what the commotion was all about. The crowd parted around a large man walking by. When at last he became visible, Seraphina caught her breath.
Normally, Seraphina wasn’t drawn to mere looks; in the land of the Fae, nearly everyone was good-looking in their own way. That simply did not impress her. But this man wasn’t just good-looking; he had this aura, this charisma and confidence in himself that made him look all the better. He wasn’t dressed very grandly; just a billowy white shirt tucked into tight black pants and boots. The v neck of his shirt was very deep, exposing his chest, where three gold necklaces sat. His hair was braided back in a neat ponytail, and his eyes…
A stunning amber. From his glowing dark skin and his jewelry, Seraphina drew the conclusion that this man came from the Day Court. It was surprising that she had never seen him before considering how many of these things she had come to.
Only after she had drawn these conclusions did she realize that the mysterious man was walking right towards her. Freya squeezed her hand excitedly as the Day Court lord approached her and bowed.
“Lady Seraphina Danaan,” he said. Seraphina never understood what people meant by “bedroom voice” until now, but this male, whoever he was, definitely had it. Deep and raspy, with a little accent and a half smile on his face. She didn’t know it yet, but she was already doomed. “May I have this dance?”
Too surprised by his sudden approach to do anything else, Seraphina offered a gloved hand. He took it in his own bare one, and she noticed how broad his hands were, and the veins that showed. He guided her onto the dance floor, and they began to sway in tune with the music.
“I have never seen you before,” Seraphina said. The man smiled. “That is by design. I don’t usually go to these things.”
“What changed your mind?”
His smile grew. “You.”
Seraphina raised a brow, silently asking for clarification. “I wanted to meet the woman bold enough to turn down a High Lord.”
Seraphina sighed, letting the male twirl her around. “Does all of Prythian know?” she exclaimed, frustration seeping into her voice. The man shrugged apologetically. “Perhaps. It is the kind of move that garners a reputation whether you like it or not, and no matter how private a setting, the gossip spreads like wildfire.”
Seraphina shook her head. “I did not mean to gain such a reputation. I only meant to stand my ground and maintain my morals.”
“And I greatly admire you for it.” The mysterious dipped her, and Seraphina lifted her leg. “You still haven’t told me your name,” she reminded him.
His grin was downright roguish. “Helion. Pleasure to meet you, Lady Danaan.”
Helion, Helion… where had she heard that before? Day Court…then it hit her. The resemblance was clear. “Hyperion’s son,” she murmured. Hyperion was the High Lord of the Day Court. She had often seen him around here, but not his son. She wasn’t quite certain he was real until now.
“That’s right.”
“How does a High Lord’s son get off on escaping these things?”
Helion grinned. “Daddy dearest is not too keen on parenting; he lets me do what I want.”
Seraphina scowled. “That’s irresponsible! You will become ruler once he fades into the Motherland.”
Helion shuddered. “God, I hope not.” When Seraphina continued to stare him down, he put his hands up in surrender. “I do go to some of these; just not Autumn-hosted events.” Helion leaned forward in a conspiratorial whisper, “Mainly because I can’t stand that smarmy little git Beron.”
“That makes two of us,” Seraphina said. He chuckled.
The song ended. Seraphina curtseyed and lifted her skirts to leave. “Wait.” Seraphina turned around, feeling herself drowning in Helion’s amber eyes. “I hope to get to know you better, my lady.”
Seraphina smiled. “Perhaps if you impress me when we meet again.”