Daughter of Day

- 8 -

A v a l o n ' s   P O V

The days that followed the second trial were filled with lots of nothingness. When I wasn't stood in the main hall, I was in Amarantha's bedroom, often with Rhysand, pleasuring her. They were days similar to before the human girl arrived, days I didn't wish to recall. 

It was evening, I was dressed in red, like always. Rhysand had told me of his plans to have Feyre accompany him once again however I decided to visit her before the bastard came to steal her away.

When I entered the room, she was sat up against the far wall, looking upwards to a vent, music from the hall above floating in. I stood observing her for a moment, until I looked to find her too, watching me.

"Do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Stand in the corners of room, watching people."

"Not always. However I find you learn more about a person by watching and noticing their actions, than by listening to them. Actions speak louder than words."

"What do you want?" She asked. I knew she didn't like me. Maybe not as much as she disliked Rhysand.

"I wanted to know if you were okay."

"Why would you care?"

"Because, believe it or not, we are not all complete monsters. Very few of us like it down here. Very few of us willingly follow Amarantha. Very few of us are here by choice. Most of us are as much prisoners as you are."

She paused, thinking about what I had said. A silence hung between us for several minutes, until she said, "Who are you?"

"My name is Avalon. My father is Helion, High Lord of the Day Court. I am here because 40 years ago the High Lords of the Day, Summer and Winter courts rebelled against Amarantha. She had the High Lords of the Summer and Winter court executed and replaced with their heirs, however I am my fathers only living blood relative, so instead of killing him she had me brought here. If my father steps out of line I face the punishment, if I step out of line my father and court face the punishment." I paused, taking a breath before continuing, "I know you hate me, and maybe it is fair that you do, but you are not the only victim. We are all stuck down here, all of us for far longer than you. All we are trying to do is survive long enough to go home." I was shouting by this point, my chest heaving, color rising to my cheeks.

We stared at each other for what felt like hours. I felt angry. Not necessarily at Feyre but mainly at what was being done to me, to my people and to every other poor soul that had ended up in this hell hole. 

I have always had a temper. When I was small I would get angry, over seemingly tiny things. Like not being able to do something, or being treated like a helpless child. My father has told me that I was calm most of the time, that I went from this complete state of calm to anger in moment. 

When I was 8 I decided to learn how to control my temper. At this point in my life it had become a bit of a joke around court, and because of it I was often treated like a toddler who had frequent tantrums. I was sick of it. So I learnt how to control it, for the most part.

I turned away from her and walked back towards the door. Before leaving I turned back to face her, saying, "Good luck with the final trial. I know you will succeed." 

I stepped back into the corridor, closing the cell door behind me. 

I walked back the room the candle lit hallways, moving closer to the music coming from the main hall.

Tonight's party was no different to all the other parties I had attended over the years. Faeries drank and lounged and danced, laughing and singing bawdy and ethereal songs. I weaved my way through all the drunk Fae, making my way immediately to the bar.