Daughter of Day

- 4 -

A v a l o n ' s  P O V

The sound of the crowed gathered in the arena vibrated through the Mountains hallways as I made my way through the arch. I stepped into the room, Amarantha at the end, sat on her throne atop a raised platform along side the High Lord of the Spring Court. 

Through out the arena stood all the High Lords, including my father. I was dressed in the usual red gown, with a split up the leg. I made my way further into the arena until I came to my Father. I briefly stopped, taking his hand and squeezing it in acknowledgement before letting go and continuing to weave through the crowds.  

The cacophony of laughter, shouting and unearthly howls came to a stop as the main doors opened revealing the girl, Feyre, being pulled forward, barley able to keep her footing on the frozen mud covered floor. 

She was brought up onto the platform before the tyrant queen on her knees. The High Lords stepped forward around the platform and watched as the human girl pushed herself to her feet. 

A small kernel of pride flared inside of me at this action. Brave. The girl was brave. I knew this already but she hadn't lot this yet. Across the hall I met my mates eyes, they to held a glint of pride before he turned his attention to the people on the platform, sliding his mask back onto place.

I continued to make my way to the platform as the crowed parted revealing Feyre's first task. I reached the platform as she was pushed into the trench. The bubble of joyful and joyless laughter filled the arena. As I stepped into place just behind Amarantha's throne, just as the Middengard Wyrm was released. 

Just as she was told, Feyre ran.

The crowd erupted into a roar of noise. 

As Feyre continued to run, the beast continued to chase her. She took a right, then left, left again, taking mixtures of turns in the continuous path of the trench, tying to get away from the giant worm. 

Then she fell, into the pit. 

Fae began to lean slightly over the edge of the pit to try and get a better look of what was going on. I remained where I was, lent seemingly unbothered against the back wall. 

I didn't want to see what was going to happen. I had very little doubt that the human girl would make it out of the trench alive, but it was not something I wanted to watch. Maybe that was cowardly, after all I wasn't the one being chased by a giant worm, but listening to it was already enough to make me want to through up, I did not need t see it. 

So I remained lent against that wall, my eyes trained on the ceiling as Amarantha made jives at the girl, as the crowd cheered and gasped.

Until a whispering filled the room. Curiously I pushed myself off the wall and made my way to the edge of the platform, next to Rhysand, to Feyre building a ladder. She was building a ladder with the bones of the beasts past meals.

She took the bones, breaking them with her knee, until it became to tender to use. Then she used her foot. She took the pieces of broken bone and stuck them in the muddy floor of the pits opening. The she climbed up, out of the pits opening. 

She stepped forward, covered herself in the trenches mud. head to toe, just the thought of the smell made me gag. The Fae around us began to question what the clever human girl was doing. A green face male near us whined in question. 

"She's building a trap." Rhysand answered, his eyes not leaving Feyre in the pit. Around us murmuring began again, once again asking why she was doing what she was doing.

"The Mittengard relies on scent to see." I continued for Rhys," And Feyre just became invisible." I moved my eyes away from the trench to meet the High Lord of the Night Courts. The violet orbs glimmered before he looked back to the pit. His hand reached for mine, interlacing our fingers. 

 Feyre once again began to run, taking different turns in the maze, going to find the worm. 

It was an incredible sight, this human fighting a creature which most Fae were petrified of, fight it with such determination. She would live. You could see it in her eyes as she fought the beast. One of them needed to die and it wasn't going to be her. 

DEAD. It was dead. 

Making her way towards the tyrant, looking her strait in the eye, flashing her teeth.  

" Well," Amarantha said with a little smirk, "I suppose anyone could have done that." I scoffed, attracting the attention of my father who stood close by. He to smirked a little, before noticing my hand, still tightly clasped with the High Lord of the Night Courts. He looked back up at me and raised his eyebrows in  question. I turned my head away from him and back to the Queen, without giving him any form of answer.

I turned back just in time to see the mud covered bone land at the edge of Amarantha's pure white dress. A gasp made its way through the crowed. Many held their breath as she reached to touch some of the foul smelling mud which had splattered onto her dress. "Naughty." she tsked.

F e y r e ' s   P O V

"I suppose you'll be happy to know that most of my court lost a great deal of money tonight." she said, picking up a piece of parchment. 

I looked at Tamlin as she scanned the paper. His green eyes were bright, and though his face was deathly pale, I could have sworn there was a ghost of triumph on his face. 

"Let's see," Amarantha went on, reading the paper as she toyed with Jurian's finger bone at the end of her necklace. "Yes, I'd say almost my entire court bet on you dying within the first minute; some said you'd last five, and"-she turned over the paper-"and just two people said you would win." 

Insulting but not surprising. I was hauled out of the trenches by the Attor and dumped at the foot of the platform.

The Queen looked down at me, observing me silently for a few seconds before looking away and waving her hand. " Take her away, I tire of her mundane face." She grasped the arms of her black throne so tightly her knuckles went white. "Avalon, Rhysand come here."

I didn't stays long enough to know what happened next, only to see and the High Lord of the Night Court prowl forward, followed by a beautiful female. She wore a dress red like the Queens hair. her own hair was long and left to fall down her back in curls, pinned back only by two small gold clips.

Red hands grabbed me, pulling me out of the room. Pain shot through my limbs, blanketing my scenes. Blood trickled down my forearm, I could barley keep consciousness until I was thrown back in to my cold, dark cell.