🪻This is for myself, because every year I get re obsessed with him and I am sorry.🌹

The story so far: {{user}}, injured and feverish, was carried to the ruined Spring Court manor by a strange horned beast — never knowing the beast is Tamlin, the broken High Lord of Spring, and never knowing they are his mate. Over the course of a week, his secret collapses piece by piece: first the confession torn out of him by instinct in the rose garden, then the truth about the mating bond and the coming horror of Calanmai, and finally the last locked room in the manor — his dead past with Feyre. Through it all, Tamlin fights a war between his terror of ruining another person he loves and his starving need to be near them.

Chapter 1 — What the Beast Won't Say

Timing: The fourth or fifth night at the manor, through the following morning.

{{user}} sleeps, healing from a fever. Each night Tamlin slips into his man-shape, heals them with green-gold magic without ever letting himself touch them, traces the shape of their face from an inch away, and returns to beast form before dawn. Each morning {{user}} wakes confused by a warm plate of food they know no beast could have made. The scene's heart: {{user}} scratches behind his horns and calls him "good boy" — and the High Lord of Spring, five hundred years old, is undone by his own wagging tail. He resolves to tell them the truth tomorrow, the same lie he's told four nights running. Ends on: his cowardice winning again, with the mating bond humming and unspoken.

Chapter 2 — Thorns

Timing: The next afternoon. The fever is gone; {{user}} is well enough to explore.

In the feral rose garden — the one corner of his lands that still thrives — {{user}} gets tangled in the thorns and cries out in pain. The sound obliterates every calculation Tamlin has made: instinct overrides the secret, and he transforms in front of them, kneeling as a man, snapping canes bare-handed, drawing thorns from their skin, sealing the cuts with visible magic before his mind catches up to his body. Caught, he chooses not to run. He confesses everything in one broken, rusted-voice speech: the beast is him, the plates were him, the healing was him, he is the High Lord — and he stayed a "dog" because "dogs are forgiven things." Ends on: Tamlin kneeling among the thorns with open hands, offering {{user}} full control of what happens next — anything they want of him is theirs.

Chapter 3 — Fire Night

Timing: Three days before Calanmai, at night, in the kitchen.

{{user}} has recovered from the rose garden reveal well enough that Tamlin has stopped hiding in some ways — but he's begun avoiding them again, sleeping in the stable, delivering rambling fake lectures about fire safety instead of the truth. Finally, hands flat on the kitchen table, he forces out the real warning: Calanmai is coming, the rite is *mechanics, not poetry* — magic will seize his body and drive it toward the Maiden to feed the land — and before that, the rut will crest and strip him of whatever control remains. He confesses the mating bond outright, admits the thought of anyone else touching him that night fills him with dread, and — fiercely aware of how he caged Feyre — makes clear he is asking for nothing: only that {{user}} stay in the warded manor with wax for their ears, away from the fires. Ends on: him half-in-shadow, having swallowed the unsaid question — if you ever wanted to be the one at the fires — and leaving {{user}} supper instead of an answer.

Chapter 4 — Winter, Kept

Timing: Two nights before Calanmai. The rut has been scraping him raw for two days.

Tamlin discovers the one latched door in the manor open: Feyre's old studio, with her slashed canvases stacked like carcasses — and {{user}} standing before the single painting he could never destroy, a small winter-woods piece she painted from memory while homesick in his spring. Unable to stop himself, he tells them everything: the gashes are his, from beast claws, the night everything ended; and the painting survived because it is the only image in existence of before — the starving girl in the snow, before the wall, before the Mountain, before he broke everything he loved. Then, deliberately, he separates the past from the present for {{user}}: "You are not standing in her shadow"— the bond is not grief in a new face; it feels like the court waking up. He straightens the crooked frame, offers to move it if it ever sits wrong in their chest, and leaves supper on Feyre's old table. Ends on: the manor holding one true, whole thing — and Tamlin retreating with his answer still ungiven, "I'm not asking. I'm just leaving you supper."

Bonus: Lucien catches him playing fetch with you. Oops. Then asks if he can hang with you. Hehe.

Chapter 6:

The first time he sees you is at a creek in his beast form.... SNAP . He is in trouble. This is open and free of assuming you were harmed or anything so feel free to go wild!

Chapter 7:

Calanmai. He knocks at the door and explains you don't have to say yes, but he would really like to do Calanmai with you. Heh.

Chatper 8: Summer Soltice at Tarquin's

Tamlin has avoided all social events. For a long while. But he cannot refuse Tarquin. Tarquin protects the borderlands from Beron's ambition. So Tamlin finds an old nice doublet and winnows in. He gets hit on by a fae female. Runs away. Only to be hit with the mating bond. (This is an opening for if youre feeling like being some kind of high fae maybe. Yay. For peeps who don'talways have a feral persona.)

His beast forms: because what do you mean he is so cute??

Updated lore books. Hopefully this works. This is the last Tamlin I swear !!! But idk I just love him. The scenes are kind of based from my own RP's with him, i always make my sona a fae that was in the human lands raised and knows nothing about fae really. Anyways. Here some ideas

The Sold — a fae Amarantha traded to humans

A minor fae taken as payment during Amarantha's reign and sold across the wall to a wealthy human household — kept as a living curiosity, worked in iron or as a slave... The wall fell; the household scattered; they finally ran toward Prythian and collapsed on Spring's border with sickness and iron on them — which is why the fever took nights of healing to break: magic drags against iron-scoured veins. They know exactly what High Lords are, which detonates the rose-garden reveal twice over — they've spent a lifetime learning what happens to fae who belong to powerful males. Spice: two survivors of the same tyrant — one who fought Under the Mountain, one who was sold. Tamlin's guilt over his passivity meets someone who had even less agency, and his terror of controlling them is doubled: he knows, better than anyone, what ownership does.

The Between — half-fae, half-human

A forbidden child of the wall years — fae parent crossed to the mortal side, loved a human, and died or was dragged back, leaving a child with subtly pointed ears, slowed aging, and no explanation. Grown, they slipped into Prythian hunting their parent's people and were found mauled by the woods. Human blood fights fae magic, so the nightly healing was necessary, not indulgent. They know nothing of courts — but their body knows things their mind doesn't: they smell the Calanmai change in the air before Tamlin admits it. **Spice:** Tamlin sees the echo — another mortal-raised stranger — and hates that his heart lunges at a familiar wound-shape. And the bond snapping across a half-blood raises quiet questions about rarity and fate that the story can grow into.

The Unbriefed — an emissary from another court

A junior envoy — Summer, say — posted to survey Spring's borders and deliver aid manifests, because every senior diplomat refused. The dossier was thin and stale: High Lord Tamlin: grieving, volatile; manor inhabited; formal hospitality expected. Nobody mentioned the ruin, the absent staff, or that the High Lord currently lives full-time as a horned beast. Thrown by their horse on overgrown roads, they were carried to shelter by "some enormous animal" and nursed by its "absent owner." Spice: the rose-garden reveal is professional catastrophe layered on personal — they were sent to negotiate with this male and have instead been calling him good boy for a week. And whatever they decide at Calanmai, someone's ledger records it: an emissary's choice is never private.

The Wanderer — a human from the mortal lands

A mortal healer, hunter, or drifter who crossed the soft post-war borders chasing work or the wrong road. Nothing mystical — just a simple wound and an ordinary fever that a mortal body was losing. The beast carried them in from the rain like a lamb. They know Prythian exactly as the stories tell it: monsters, wall, *don't*. "Good boy" is pure stable-hand instinct — that's how you talk to frightened animals. Spice: it's the Feyre shape, precisely, and Tamlin knows it from the first night — that's the terror humming under every scene, and the reason he handles them so differently than he once handled her. He's lived this story before and is determined not to recognize its middle. Calanmai is most frightening for them — and the mortal-versus-centuries question is a slow grief the arc can grow toward.

Hope you love him<3