A Court of Shadows and Secrets (ACOTAR FANFIC)

Chapter 1

After 20 years with the Illyrians, Alya decided it was time to move on.

The time was drawing nearer for Tamlin's time to be up and the little heir to the night court could not remain in Prythian any longer without being found out.

It was a wonder she had escaped discovery that long. Only with her excellent glamour skills and her gifts as a Daemati had she made it this far without being dragged back to the false queen's grasp.

A sad smile overtook her usually stoic face as she glanced at the war camp one last time, knowing most likely she would never be back again. The memories of her arrival hit her as she listened to the familiar clash of weapons from the training ground.

She had shown up at the Windhaven camp four days after her escape.

She heavily glamoured herself, turning her onyx hair brown, her violet eyes hazel. She introduced herself under the name Kali, she even changed her scent to keep Amarantha off her back.

She walked straight up to Devlon and demanded he makes her strong.

He laughed in her face until he truly looked into her eyes. It wasn't their familiarity that sent a chill down his spine, it was the unyielding anger, the darkness, the bloodthirsty edge. He nearly stepped back at the look in her eyes.

"Make me strong enough to slaughter those who have wronged me and I will one day repay your effort."

After much convincing (and a bit of Daemati power), he warned her that it would not be easy as a female, that they will likely kill her.

They tried...for years they harassed her. They didn't understand that to her, the war camp was a palace. She was raised being harassed, the cold and starvation was nothing new. But here she could fly, she could speak out loud, she could run, she could fight. Anything was better than the hell she knew, comparatively the camps were Elysium.

After the first year, her prowess was evident, after the first decade the other warriors began to somewhat admire her cruelty in battle. After twenty years, there was a level of respect between her and the Illyrian men, though they still looked down on her she was allowed to perform the blood rite and was granted the privilege of being tattooed.

Many of the young girls looked up to her during her time at the camps. Crying in her arms when their wings were clipped after their first bleed. She secretly taught them a few defensive moves to help them survive in the camps.

Throughout the years she had a few close calls, almost running into her father. The hatred she felt for him was boundless as the night sky. Antares is dead for whatever it is that he did.

Though most wouldn't, she looked back fondly at her time in the Camp. She went almost undiscovered the entire time ... almost.

Marcus found out, well more like Alya told him. They were comrades, allies. She trusted him with her life and he loved her with the entirety of his soul.

Marcus loved her more than anything, he swore they were mates by how deeply he felt for her. He professed his love until his dying breath. Her secrets dying with him.

She visited his grave one final time before readying herself for the long flight to the wall.

After 20 years, she bid farewell to her comrades and Devlon.

~~~~~~~~~~

Alya walked through the mortal realm, her glamour fastened into place to look human.

It was at this moment, looking back, that proved fate was real.

That certain events were part of a divine plan. Because there is no way to explain what happened next as anything but kismet.

Alya heard the soft sobs of a child in the distance. Her mind flashed back to the Illyrian girls after their wings were clipped. She remembered their desperation for comfort that only she was willing to provide. She remembered her own sobs as a child, trapped in the darkness of a stone cell.

Her feet moved of their own volition, carrying her towards the sound of the crying child.

She found a little human girl, sobbing against the bark of a tree. She was thin and dirty. Her brown hair was tangled and had leaves and grass braided into the strands.

Without much thought, Alya loosed the cloak from her shoulders wrapping it around the freezing girl. The girl sputtered in her sobs not hearing anyone approach. Fear clouded her eyes as she looked up at the woman above her.

In one swift motion, Alya pulled the girl into her arms, hugging her close to her warm body. The girl stiffened before relaxing into the stranger's soft touch and allowing herself to be comforted.

She cried into the beautiful woman's shoulder. Her frustration, her anger, her grief, all poured out at once.

After a few minutes, the little girl's sobs turned to soft whimpers, the tight hold on the woman loosing slightly.

"Now little star, what is a pretty little thing doing out here all alone?" The woman's voice was calm and slow. There was a melody to her words like the slow playing of a Cello. Her fingers lightly brushed through the little girl's hair as a mother should.

"W-we're so hungry... I-I don't know what to do. My father won't help us and my sisters won't do anything!" The little girl nearly burst into tears again.

"Does the little star have a name?" Alya cooed as she wiped the tears from her face.

"Feyre... Feyre Archeron."

"Well hello, Feyre. My name is Kali. How old are you, Feyre darling?"

"I-I'm 11."

"So young to be caring such weight. Well little star, let's get you home and well see what we can do." Alya lifted the girl in her arms allowing her to direct them toward her home.

Her house was no more than a shack, she stepped through the door holding Feyre close to her.

She saw two other girls seated by the hearth looking remarkably similar to the little girl in her arms. They turned to look at the intruder in alarm.

They both stood, the older one pushing her sister behind her with a fierce glare directed at the stranger.

"Hello, young ones. I'm assuming this little star is yours." She said referring to Feyre.

"Who are you?" The little viper hissed at her holding tightly to her younger sister's hand.

"My name is Kali... Is your father home, little Luna?"

Just then a man limped into the room, looking confused and terrified at the beauty holding his youngest daughter.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Archeron. I'll get straight to the point, I am a traveler in need of a home. If you provide me with your roof and company, I will help you all to survive. Money, food, care, anything else I shall help where I can. What say you?"

And that was how Alya, heir to the night court, came to live with the Archerons.