#high lords of prythian

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our girl – Part 6

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Violence, character death

<<< Part 5

“Y/N, we are ready for you,” Thesan said with a soft smile. 

You swallowed as you entered the decadent marble room, the binder under your arm almost bursting with hundreds of papers of research you collated.

Several powerful sets of eyes fell on you, and you forced your own forward, fighting the instinct to cast them low in respect. You were doing this for Prythian, for all fae – they should feel honoured for the opportunity, not you.

With smiles from Tarquin and Tamlin, you took the seat Thesan withdrew for you – the tall, regal shape foreign as it pressed to your back.

Rhysand and Feyre sat opposite, their eyes warm beneath their gaze. But you were too preoccupied to meet it.

“And since when are we in the business of inviting commoners to these meetings? I won't share my table with court-crossing whores.”

You let out a tired breath, your patience for the male ego completely diminished over the past years. 

“I suppose you’ve excused that every time one of your sons has sat for these meetings, Beron?” 

The words had left your mouth before you could stop them. 

Beron’s eyes widened, his face flushing red, and a few snorts and stifled laughs could be heard across the table. 

Fuck – you could kiss Autumn’s allegiance goodbye. You would have to be a lot less impulsive if you were to make it out of this meeting alive.

"I will not–" Beron began, his hands curling into fists.

“Oh calm yourself Beron, you had no right to insult her in the first place.” Tarquin was grinning at you – ever the loyal friend. You gave him a tight smile to say thanks. 

“And if you’re wondering who invited her here, you can steer your anger towards me,” Tamlin spoke smoothly, intertwining his fingers as he placed his solid arms on the table, meeting Beron’s glare with confidence.

“I for one, would like to hear what Y/N has to say,” Feyre added, with a confident nod to you.

It seemed you had an alliance at play all along.  

With clear of your throat, you opened your binder, rolling out a detailed map of Prythian and with it months of research on each of the courts. You took a breath, and began the proposal you and your team had spent weeks perfecting. 

“You may have heard of aid work spreading across Spring in light of the aftermath of the war. My team and I have worked tirelessly to support vulnerable communities across the court, providing food, medicine and shelter for those devastated by Hybern.”

“Spring Court only suffered devastation because of its alliance with Hybern in the first place,” Kallias interrupted, followed by a murmur of agreements.

Tamlin straightened. “I acknowledge my court was left at Hybern's mercy due to my decisions. But Y/N has worked despite of that – and it’s what makes her work so important.”

“In what way?” Thesan asked. 

“A courtless ambition,” you affirmed. “A team of volunteers – made from all courts, for all courts. Resources provided from across Prythian, shared equally to help those in need despite what throne they serve.”

There was a moment of silence, before Beron sounded a loud snort. 

“Don't trust her for one second,” he scoffed, pointing a finger at you. “She’s been hauled up in Spring Court for over a year now. No doubt this is a ruse to have us open our borders. She’ll be free to rob our people and lands, all the while fucking her handsome High Lord.”

“Watch how you speak of her,” Rhysand growled, night crawling across the table, the purple in his eyes all but gone. 

You had to interject before this meeting finished as quickly as it started. “I assure you, this mission has no binding to Spring Court. It is to exist without borders so we may help anyone in need, and travel with ease to provide urgent care.”

Beron ignored Rhysand and instead cold eyes to you, his lips curling with distaste. “And you believe we need your help?” he spat. “The fae of Spring are weak. My subjects are well cared for, and my court is thriving.”

Gods, you could see where Eris got it from.

“According to my research, inflation in your court is a second close to Spring, and displacement is rising with little access to healers after you centralised them during the war.”

Beron’s face flushed an even deeper red than before, his eyes turning to a murderous cold and your stomach twisted with both fear and delight. 

“There is not one court here that is in a position to refuse this kind of offer,” Tarquin said with sweeping calm, silencing Beron before he could bubble over. “We would do well to not let our pride stop an ambition of this size.”

“Y/N,” he added, turning to you. “I admire the work you have done in Spring, Tamlin has testified and frankly sung much high praise. If you might show me your plans of what role Summer Court could play in your mission, I would be happy to come to an agreement to provide volunteers and resources.”

You swallowed, your heart swelling. You had no doubt Tarquin would offer his allegiance, but it was a milestone all the same. “Thank you, Tarquin.”

“My mate and I would like to offer the allegiance of the Night Court. We would be honoured for your help,” Feyre’s face strong and stern, but you knew them well enough to feel the waves of pride from both her and Rhys. 

“Consider Day Court an ally too,” Hellion beamed, trusting of Feyre’s alliance to now make his own. “We have some of the oldest practicing healers – if you can help spread their knowledge across our lands, it will help us to grow stronger as a continent, and perhaps more resistant should we face another invasion in future.” 

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head gratefully to the High Lords and Lady around you. 

“You’re all fools,” Beron spat, pushing up from his chair. “And I won't stand to watch you place the fate of our lands in the hands of a traitor, let alone a woman.”

A series of snarls sounded as claws of all kinds shot out. Tamlin’s hands shook as he gripped the tables edge, Tarquin’s scraped at his chair, and Rhys’s tapped with threatening impatience. 

“Your mind betrays you, Beron,” Feyre spoke coldly, a cruel smile at play on her lips. “Because despite countless centuries in this world, you and your seven sons couldn't hope to accomplish as much as this female has in just a few years. You’re embarrassed. You feel she emasculates you.”

You didn't have a moment to gawk before Beron launched at you, his fist in your hair as he ripped you backwards in your chair. Droplets of his disgusting spit landing their mark as he snarled down at you. “You mark my words you sly bitch. You may have everyone wrapped around you finger, but step one foot in my court and I’ll–”

Guards had pulled Beron from you before he could finish his sentence. They hardly had to escort him as he shook their grip, storming from the room and slamming the doors behind him. 

With red cheeks and a slight shake of your hands, you took Tarquins offer to help you stand.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

You offered a single nod, too stunned to know truly. Was this how the High Lords settled business?

You straightened your skirts and took your seat once again.

“I do hate it when he gets like that,” Tarquin said more loudly, feigning a bored sigh and hiding a comforting hand on your thigh beneath the table.

“For your knowledge Y/N, there are rules that we must not to lay hands on another High Lord or Lady, not without consequence. I suppose that’s why he launched at you,” Thesan explained, willing a glass of water in front of you and giving you a sorry smile.

You took a shaky sip, barely having a moment to register the silent exchange between Tamlin, Feyre and Rhys. Whatever their stern expressions meant, you knew Beron was in deep, deep shit. 

The rest of the meeting went smoothly – you convinced Thesan and Kallias to consider your proposal, and agreed to meet with them in future after they took some time to study your plans in more detail. In total you had four courts agree, two remained uncertain, and one definite no. It was overwhelming result, and you were riddled with both excitement and anxiousness at the thought of expanding your mission to not just one, but three new courts.

As the meeting adjourned, you found yourself thinking of Eris, and couldn't help but feel empathetic. You may have an unwelcome bond binding you to the two males who broke your heart, but at least your future wasn't dictated by someone as hideous as Beron. Eris would never be that free.

You spent your evening writing to the other volunteers and your uncle, and preparing plans and strategies to begin work in Summer. It would be beneficial to start there, to have more experienced healers on board. 

There was a soft rap at your door, and Feyre’s blossom-like scent floated through the gaps. 

Quill now mid-air, your heart fastened with momentary worry. But you took a breath - it was just a conversation, you could grant her that. After all, there were many more meetings with her and Rhys to come if you hoped to expand to the Nigh Court successfully. You'd also likely need to return to the Night Court yourself…

Stopping your spiral of thoughts, you cleared your throat. “Come in,” you called, placing your quill down and turning in your seat. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No no. Please, come in,” you gestured.

She strode with confidence, dark drapes of her dress flowing behind as they sparkled like the Velarian sky you hadn't realised you longed for. “I won't stay long, I just wanted to tell you that you were incredible today.” Those grey eyes pinned you with sincerity, before fluttering with a sideways glance.  “And perhaps I’m also here to see how you’re fairing after the meeting. I’m sorry, I didn't think Beron…"

You huffed humorously, your head cocking down as you let out sound of exasperation. “Gods, he truly is as awful as they say.”

“Yes,” Feyre said with a stifled grin, her head shaking. “He really is.”

“Thank you, for defending me. Your response to him… it was–"

“Too much, probably.”

“Insidiously epic.” You were grinning.

Feyre laughed now, swinging one leg over the other before fingering a nearby trinket. “You know I can't resist the opportunity to toy with a male like that.”

You matched her smile, warmed by the mischievous look. The exchange was genuine and comfortable, fun even – exactly how your friendship had been for so many years.

“Thank you for coming to see me, Feyre.”

Feyre’s eyes softened, a small but sad smile finding her lips. “Of course.”

You looked at your hands then, fidgeting with them in your lap. You had to ask, you just had to. 

“How are they?”

Feyre didn't falter. “Well enough. Cassian has been training a new generation of Illyrians to regrow our army, and Azriel has been busy with his work in Hybern.”

Your eyes were distant as you thought about them, separated by work. Azriel was still undertaking missions in Hybern? Was there truly more secrets to unravel there? Gods, the thought alone made you wince in pain, that whole damned continent a waking reminder of Meryl and everything you had lost. You knew Azriel would be tortured by the same cycle of thoughts on those lands.

“They work hard,” you offered with pulled brows, not really knowing what else to say. 

“Just like someone else I know.” Feyre’s pained smile soft yet full of suggestion. She might as well have said it – they’re not the only ones burying their pain in work. You supposed she was right, you had set a stellar example at that.

“But they’re doing better, really,” she added, resuming natural movement and surrendering you from her gaze. “They’re healthier, and they look after one another.” 

Your lips pulled into a small smile. “I’m glad.” And you meant it. 

Feyre had matured over the past year – you could see it in her poise, hear it in her voice. It was a nice thing to see, to watch a fellow immortal grow in such ways.

“I will leave you to your planning.” She stood then, her incredible dress sweeping the floor once more.

Pausing by the doorway, Feyre turned to you. “Rhys and I are so honoured to have your work come to our court, even with the challenges to be faced with the Council. You should be proud, Y/N. We certainly are.”

You nodded, your lips pulling in a smile that twitched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you. I’ll send a letter to meet soon, and we can discuss plans then.”

“We look forward to it.” Feyre’s smile was warm and true.

“As do I.” And so was your own.

————

“Are you sure you wouldn't like to wait a few more days? We could journey back together.”

You rolled your eyes, securing your bag to Podie as Tamlin fussed behind you, tightening the knots. 

“I must get back and help the team start the expansion. I don't have a few days to spare.”

“I know, I just… worry for you.”

You snorted then, hauling yourself to your horse. “I journeyed here myself, you know.”

Tamlin sighed, reaching to stroke Podie’s mane. “I know. I just, I’m not sure, I have a feeling–“

“You’re fussing.”

“No, I have a feeling.”

“A feeling of fussing?”

Tamlin pinched his nose then. “I don't know why I try,” he muttered. 

You grinned. “I’ll see you in two weeks time, Tam.” With a gentle nudge to Podie’s sides, you started the long journey home.

Never mind that Tamlin had found you shortly after Feyre left your room last night. Never mind that he searched you over for any signs of injury that Beron might have left, or that he distracted you jokes and conversation and stiff drink on your balcony that lead to welcomed sleep. You would certainly not think about the way his deep hushed voice soothed you until your eyes closed, or that he knew exactly how to stroke your hair as he comforted you after the things Beron had said, long after you had stopped responding. 

When you had woken he was gone, so this time apart would serve you well to clear your head and re-establish those murky lines of love and friendship, desire and lust. 

“Take safe routes,” he called out, waving you off as the castle of Dawn Court disappeared behind the trees.

You forced yourself not to look back. 

————

The journey from Dawn to Spring would take six days of travel. With no ability to winnow or fly, it was a pace you were not accustomed to. 

But you would bare it with higher spirits than ever, because you got what you came for, what you’d wanted your entire life. You were making the world a better place, and only just getting started. 

Forgoing the coastal scenery you had indulged in on your journey up, you chose a route close to the inner border with Autumn, avoiding the congestion of the capital and heading through the most direct route. By your third morning you had already reached Summer, forgoing rest and carving your journey time to start your eager plans once home.

As the sun began to set that evening, Podie began fussing with fatigue. 

“I know boy, I know,” you soothed, patting at his neck. “We’re almost there.” 

And sure enough, the bustle of the town you had marked on your map sounded in the distance, smoke trails rising above the tree tops as signs of life revealed themselves. You had marked this town for its inn, where both you and Podie could rest properly for the night.

But rest would have to wait, as your ears pricked at a young voice. Turning, you saw wild auburn hair on a thin and ashy body, large eyes pleading to whoever walked past. 

“Please, ma’am, sir, someone help!”

But the other fae continued to look past her, offering mumbled apologies and averting their gaze. Disheartened, you tutted under your breath. The child was from Autumn, that much was clear, and you knew the other fae ignored her for it. This was exactly the kind of mentality you were trying to amend.

Having just secured Podie’s reigns at the stables next to the inn, you wiped your hands on your pants, approaching the girl. “What’s wrong youngling?”

The little girl all but crumpled. “Please, my mother, she-she can’t, I don’t-"

Crouching down, you soothed the young girl with a hand on each of her shoulders. “Is she unwell?”

Dirty hands rubbed the tears spilling from her eyes, and a nod was all she could offer. 

Your eyes flicked to your satchel still strung on Podie. There were vessels of Geranium in there, samples you had shown to the High Lords. 

“Can she walk?”

The little girl trembled, locks bouncing as she shook her head. Gods, those locks, so similar to Meryl's…

A fresh batch of tears poured from her eyes then, as she pointed behind her. “There are no healers in our town. I didn't know where to go!”

“It’ll be alright, I have some medicine in my bag. Can you take me to her?”

She girl’s lip quivered. “But it’s over the border,” she whispered.

You gave her a sorry smile. “I thought as much. Never mind, let me grab my bag, and you lead the way.”

Fuck Beron – fuck his senseless borders and militant court. Someone was in need of healing, so you would help them, plain and simple.

The girl was still thanking you by the time you returned with your satchel. You hoped you had enough Geranium to heal her mother to to a capacity until a trained healer could see to her. 

The young thing all but sprinted, and you maintained a steady jog to the Autumn border. Green blended with red here, the breeze already cooler as dried leaves danced with live ones. 

“My town is down this trail,” she pointed to a winding path. “It’s not far.”

You nodded, taking your first step in Autumn without a second thought. And when you reached the winding path, where the trees now hid the backs of Summer Court and the life that called there, the girl stopped in her path, turning with an eery slowness. 

You jumped back at the white film that now filled her eyes, her mouth downturned and sad. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head lolling sideways. 

You hadn’t a moment to process the horror of it before hands pinned your arms and smothered your mouth. 

Fumes swarmed your senses, burning your nose and throat before you were overcome with poisonous haze, your cry swallowed in cloth as the world turned black. 

————

Rhysand handed the last of his bags to the door man, giving his guest room at Dawn one final sweep. 

Feyre had left a few days earlier to be with Nyx, but many of the High Lords had stayed to use the mutual meeting grounds and have much needed discussions after the war. But his business was done and he would finally return home, his heart aching for Velaris. 

Even his brothers would be there this time, having returned from their own missions. He was eager to unwind and be surrounded by the laughter and company of his family together again. Well, almost all of them. 

Tamlin’s scent pricked his nose, and Rhys resisted the urge to roll his eyes. With the complicated and bloody history they shared, forcing himself to be civil with Tamlin would always draining, and right now he just wanted to get home. 

Night magic flung the doors open, revealing the distraught High Lord, one hand raised to knock, the other clutching a letter. 

“Whatever can I do you for, Tamlin?” Rhys mused, before finally turning to face him. With one look at his expression, he flicked his eyes to the letter in Tamlin's hand, his stomach sinking immediately.

“What’s happened?” Rhys asked quickly. 

“Y/N – she was due back in Spring three days ago. Her uncle has written to say she hasn't come home.”

Rhys could feel the violet draining from his eyes. “Perhaps she took a few more days to herself?”

“She wouldn't do that.” Tamlin said firmly. 

Rhys nodded, his lips pressing into a tight line as worry brewed even further. He was right.

“There’s more.” 

Rhys quirked his brow. 

“Podie was found stranded at an inn in Summer, east of the capital.” 

“Podie? Who-"

“Her horse Rhysand! They found her damned horse, left there for days!”

Rhys swallowed, his mind narrowing to a steely focus – the way it did before battle. 

“You said east?”

Tamlin swallowed thickly, a knowing worry pulling at his features as he nodded. “Just shy of the border.”

Black flooded the little violet left in Rhys’s eyes. “Fuck.”

Tamlin stalked towards Rhys, forcing the letter into his hand. “Call for her mates, immediately.” 

But Rhys already was, his mind screaming out to his brothers, to Feyre, to anyone who could find her first. 

“Is it done?” Tamlin asked, green eyes desperately scanning the lucid male in front of him. 

Rhys was quiet for a moment, before sucking in a sharp sudden breath. He faltered then, grasping the bed post with a wince as his magic recoiled within. 

Because somewhere in Velaris, across the mountains and seas and stretch of land the separated y/n from her mates, a panic so deep and rage so violent consumed any magic in reach, even the most powerful High Lords. 

Rhys wasn't there to witness Cassian and Azriel’s siphons shattering, to see the way red and blue power - now freed from their bounds - instead consumed them, filling their veins and pulsing against muscle. 

Rhys nodded once at Tamlin, confirming what they both knew.

There would be a war to retrieve Y/N alive. And Beron was as good as dead.  

————

Beron took a leather parcel from the last of his guards, before ushering him from your cell. 

You had been here for days – or so you thought. Time was a difficult thing to grasp in your haze, and there was no light here. It was quite too, the only sound of dripping dampness, and the occasional screams and pleas from a women. That voice was so far away, you weren’t certain it was real, or that it wasn't your own. 

Beron had visited you the day you were taken, his dark eyes glowing with hideous intent at the sight of you bound in his dungeon. He hadn’t said much, only promising with sickening glee that he’d be back soon. 

You half expected him to beat you, to hurt and punish you for humiliating him at the High lords meeting. Gods, you even anticipated death. But the High Lord kept you hydrated and healthy enough, all be it drugged and weak. Which meant a different fate awaited you, perhaps one worse than you could imagine.

You cursed at the sight of the weapon he unfurled from the leather pouch. It was a rapier of kinds – too large to be a knife, too small to be an ordinary sword. But it was the ungodly glow of the thing - the churning ribbons of deadly silver turning in on itself - that terrified you most. 

“What is that?” you panted, your eyes wide as Beron’s grin grew. 

“You have no idea the lengths I’ve gone to find such a tool, Y/N.” He angled it this way and that, eyes glowing with admiration as silver danced in them. “The terrible things I had to do to have this made, to even hold it in my bare hands.”

It was pointless to press further into the metal slab you were bound to, cuffs digging at your ankles and wrists as you reopened the same wounds you had fought against for days.

Beron was drawing closer, the rest of the room darkening as the rapier glowed so bright, commanding your attention. The air grew colder, as if those lethal ribbons were consuming the warmth for itself.

“I think we’re alike, you and I.” Beron eyed you with a sickly smile before he began to pace, moving his sword with him.

Your chest heaved with panic, your eyes trailing him as you begged for anyone to find you. Your mates, that tether, perhaps they would hear you? But the bond had weakened since left unacknowledged, and as you fished for it within you could feel how it had thinned.  

“I don't like having my things taken from me, Y/N. And I’m certain you don't either. That’s why you were alone, wasn’t it? Without your mates, hm? They took something of yours, and you didn't like it one bit.”

Your eyes snapped to Beron the moment he mentioned them. Fuck. Fuck. Eris, that kniving worm, had told him exactly what he needed to know.

“I’ve had something of mine taken from me over and over again for almost a century. The one thing that was promised to me – sworn to me by oath, bound to me by a ring.”

What nonsense was he spitting? Unless… oh gods.

“You see there’s a particular High Lord who seems to think he can help himself to what is mine. And apparently, my whore of a wife agrees.”

The Lady of Autumn. What Feyre had shared with you about Lucien, about his mother and Helion – it was all true. And Beron knew.

You gulped, your stomach churning as you forced your voice past the strain in your throat. “What in gods name does that have to do with me, you twisted senseless fuck.”

Fear seeped from you, and you knew he could scent it. 

Beron chuckled, shaking his head before crazed eyes found yours. “Do you know what my wife said to me when I confronted her, Y/N? Do you know what she claimed, what she threw in my face, after centuries of marriage, of sharing my home and my court and six fucking sons?”

You were wise enough not to answer. 

Beron shifted, easing back into lethal calm. “She tells me of a bond. Bound by the cauldron, she claims. She says that she’s sorry, to please not hurt her, to please not hurt him. And then she begs me to let her go.”

Bile rose to your throat. “What have you done to her?” you gritted, fighting against your cuffs once more. “Have you- did you-”

“Kill her?” Beron finished, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Of course not. I am no monster.” He paused then, halting his pace. “I love her.”

It was almost convincing. 

“But so began my journey, sweet Y/N, to help my dear wife from her delusions. I keep her here, a few cells over. She’s very eager to receive her treatment and rejoin the throne again as my loyal wife.”

You had to blink through your nausea. The begging, those screams – they were real. It was her.

“By no means was it an easy task to find a tool like this – something so magnificent, crafted straight from death itself. But I do it for her.”

Your stomach dropped. He had harnessed death itself? This was beyond insidious - Beron had been driven insane by his jealousy.

Beron’s eyes flicked from the weapon to you, noting the way you stiffened.

“Ah yes, death. Not an easy thing to befriend, certainly not an easy thing to yield. It took a life to harness it’s power, life from my very own family.” 

Beron’s words were becoming harder to hear as your heart pounded in your ears. And then it clicked, and you could have sworn that time stood still as his words played in your head. He had mentioned six sons, not seven.

You had not known a fear like the one you felt now, a sickening tremble overtaking as you knew what he would say next.

“Please,” you begged, twisting in your restraints. “Please! Don't say it!”

“Although I suppose Lucien wasn't truly my family, not really.”

A scream ripped from you, your eyes clenched shut as your mind reeled at the horror. Lucien – Tamlin’s friend, Feyre’s friend, your friend too. Killed as a sacrifice for this insidious narcissist he had thought was his father. 

“Oh none of that, Y/N. You act as if I enjoyed it. Lucien was my son in many ways. But a power this great,” he said, casting the sword before his eyes. “Well, it demands an equally great sacrifice.”

Anguished sobs escaped you, tear tracks gleaming from the glow of death before you.

“How could you?” you screamed, writhing against your chains. “He trusted you!”

Beron’s eyes darkened. “It’s as I said,” he growled. “I will not have my things taken from me. For decades I was humiliated and lied to while she slinked from MY COURT to have an affair with another High Lord. Years spent playing me a fool, lying to my face and CLAIMING a SON as my OWN!”

You trembled at the hate in Beron’s voice, walls rumbling as he beheld other-worldly power from the weapon in his hand. You knew his words had hit their mark, and faint wails could be heard outside your cell. The Lady of Autumn could hear it all – Beron was punishing her, forcing her to listen.

He was quiet then, watching you fail to stifle your own sobs.

He moved closer, raising a hand to stroke at your hair. “Shh, shh. Now now, dear Y/N. I may hate you, but I’m a man of reason. I don't believe in spilt blood.”

You jerked under his touch, squeezing your eyes shut and begging to the Mother to not let you die at the hands of this deranged murderer.

“I haven't bought you here to kill you. You’re valuable to me, you see.”

You forced your eyes open. 

“I merely want to break your bond.” 

There was a ringing in your ears as a panic burst through your veins so quickly you felt you would simply combust. 

“And I suppose I don't care should you survive this or not.” Beron said with a shrug, before pointing that ungodly sword at your heart, and a bloodcurdling scream ripped from your chest.

--------

Part 7>>>

A/N: Hi. Hiiiii. Are you... are you ok? Hoping Lucien's death didn't hurt too bad. ❤️  Thank you always for your patience on this chapter, I so hope you liked it (or at least made you feel the feels). I cannot wait to explore feral Cass and Az, and probably Rhys and Feyre and Tamlin too lol Drop a comment or an ask any time, I looooooove hearing your thoughts on the fic, it makes my day each and every time <3 Thank you, and I love you. MWA! ❤️ 

[nocasdatsgay]

If the High Lords aren’t using their power of authority to make their bed partners cum on command are they even a real High Lord?

[onerainydayatthespringcourt]

Rhysand: *pretends for fifty years to team up with Amarantha, who enslaved all of Prythian and regularly tortures and kills people according to her whims, in order to keep the secret subgroup of his citizens safe that nobody knows about. And later reveals that he was good all along*

Prythian: Wooo! Rhysand rocks!!

Tamlin: *fights against Amarantha and for Prythian for 50 years straight, even lets people that he cares dearly for sacrifice themselves for the cause, which eventually leads to the curse being broken, saving everyone in Prythian from Amarantha. Then he momentarily pretends to team up with Hybern, but reveals that it was a ploy to get intel on Hybern and all of it also served the purpose of keeping all of Prythian safe*

Prythian: Booo!! How are we supposed to trust you now? You seem evil and we believe Rhysand over you!

I’ve got to ask: Why do people think this mess of a plotline makes sense? 😀

[fourteentrout]

The High Lords and Lady of Prythian

Click for quality!

Order from left to right, top to bottom: Helion of the Day Court, Thesan of the Dawn Court, Kallias of the Winter Court, Tarquín of the Summer Court, Beron of the Autumn Court, Tamlin of the Spring Court, Rhysand and Feyre of the Night Court

I know this probably isn’t book accurate but this is roughly how I pictured everyone while I was reading before I realized that I was, in fact, imagining them pretty wrong. I fear I’ve held onto my interpretations tightly, they’re hard to let go. Feel free to let me know what you think, or if you have any questions!

[bxriles]

Sooo I’m considering writing a fic about two Hewn City siblings where the sister entered into a political marriage with Rhysand (pre ACOTAR of course) and where the brother starts a rebellion after his sister mysteriously dies once Rhysand makes it known that he has a mate…

Thoughts?? Would anyone even read that? I really just want an excuse to practice my writing skills tbh and I think it would be fun to write Rhys as a true villain from another perspective.

Plus I want to explore the concept of how the dreamers in the Court of Nightmares felt being abandoned by their High Lord.

[chunkypossum]

This is for @erisweek2023 Day 2: high lord/heir.

It’s a scent guide to our boy in Kerosene on AO3

My little head cannon of Eris’ scents in Kerosene… Eris is destined to be the most powerful High Lord of Autumn (imo overall). Like the kind that prophecies are written about lol

I really wanted his scent to reflect that in this fic. So instead of smelling like wood smoke and cinnamon all the time (or whatever his scent might end up being. I don’t think we know yet in cannon(?)) I wanted him to reflect his court entirely.

Well… I confused myself so I had to write it all down and thought some of y'all might appreciate a guide too. I like to think since he is made from Autumn that his scent would reflect the layered tapestry of the season itself and every one of his emotions changes his scent. The only one to pick up on it in its full complexity of course would be his mate. To everyone else his scent would probably be largely the same with little hints of something else here and there noticeably different but not as radically changing as what his mate can detect…

All the time there is an underlying scent of crisp, cool air sweetened by freshly fallen leaves being crushed underfoot

Adding cinnamon, leather, oak, moss, tobacco, whiskey (earthy smells) for anything warm and content but also to enhance any of his feelings.

Happy: Vanilla - simple, classic

Joy: happy + extra sweet and earthy; Vanilla + Cinnamon or leather + Maple or butterscotch; the happier the sweeter and more rich

Anxiety - patchouli, wet and earthy with a sharp citrus note like grapefruit

Sad - His crunchy leaf smell becomes damp and smells more like organic decay, not cool and crisp but frosty.

Arousal is clove based, with saffron for pure lust. Almost like the mixed scents of mulled cider especially when he is playfully aroused

Angry - charred wood from an old, dead campfire. The more furious he is the more damp leaf decay and rotten apples. Everything is laced with a rotten sweet smell with an underlying current of old smoke and tobacco. Sharp and jarring

Scared - is sometimes confused with arousal because of the clove smell but it's more sour like spoiled pumpkin

Disgusted/shocked/Depressed - His scent grows cold and dull. Smells almost like frost in the air with an undercurrent of rotten pumpkin and enhanced with something earthy like moss the stronger the emotion is

I tried to group some stuff together and overlap some of the scents so it didn’t get overly complicated 😅

[divinemare]

-ˏˋ⋆ 𝔄 𝔠 𝔬 𝔲 𝔯 𝔱 𝔬 𝔣 𝔤 𝔬 𝔡 𝔰 𝔞 𝔫 𝔡 𝔪 𝔬 𝔫 𝔰 𝔱 𝔢 𝔯 𝔰 ⋆ˊˎ-

└──» ✎ 。 Azriel x Oc

part eight

┊✧*｡ ✯┊☪︎⋆✧*｡ ┊

Azriel had heard it from Rhys first, the male's daementi power reaching into his mind to tell him. But still, Azriel refused to believe it until he saw it with his own eyes.

His palms were sweating as his heart pounded hard in his chest. His shadows hid part of his face and body in hopes of concealing his master's unease. There was no way he could calm his erratic nerves as he waited, and waited, and waited.

Until he saw her. Entering the room, with her eyes, normally full of life and curiosity, staring at the floor, lost and unsure.

He almost let a gasp escape as he saw the tattoo that wrapped around Mareena’s arm and disappeared into the shoulders of her shirt. It wasn’t just any kind of tattoo, Azriel recognised it perfectly as a bargain mark.

“You and I are going to cause your dear father an outburst when he sees you with that,” Rhett laughed cruelly, taking Mareena’s arm in his hands and stroking the tattooed skin.

An inexplicable wave of rage coursed through his body, but Azriel kept his gaze fixed elsewhere so as not to look directly at Mareena.

“Shadowsinger,” when he heard the High Lord calling him, Azriel had to muster his most rigid expression to finally be able to look at him. “Would there be any trouble now that Miss Mareena is joining us? I know you two might have been…close.”

Azriel looked at Mareena, who finally had raised her head from the ground as if just realizing he was there, it was just a split second, but he felt a lump in his throat he had to swallow before looking back at the male with no emotions at all.

“None, Sire.”

Oh, there were already a thousand fucking problems going on in his head right now.

☪︎⋆

Mareena had been presented to the Court of Nightmares. And what an awful fucking place.

She had hated the second she had stepped into it. The High Lord made her change her clothes into some trousers and a top in the Night Court style she loved, but the fabric, even tho it was a beautiful shade of shiny purple, was almost transparent. The top didn’t had the right sleeve, so to reveal the tattoo that curled up her arm, while the transparency of the fabric allowed it to show where the tattoo finished at the back of her shoulder.

She was paraded as a new weapon, a new adquisición, and it all fell all too similar to her fathers dungeon, where he showed her off to his awful friends.

But there was one thing that made everything less horrible, one person. Azriel was constantly, all the time, near her. Even if he had to act like he didn’t care for her, every time she was standing in one corner, shadows caressed her arms in a soft, comforting way. And in every glance they stole from each other across the room, she saw the trouble in those beautiful hazel eyes.

“So she’s what, your new guard?” Keir, Mor’s father, and Rhys’ uncle, asked his brother with a horribly unnerving smile towards her.

“Something like that, yes,” the High Lord nodded slightly, looking at her from head to toe.

Their bargain had left many questions in Mareena’s head. She was to be his new blade, his new weapon. He had said she had a power that not even she could understand herself, and that he would use it as he saw fit, using her against his enemy and anyone that would want to attempt against his crown.

Mareena was simply a weapon to be yield, something to brag about.

Oh, if he knew what she had been capable of before she locked the bigger part of her power inside her…

“What is she, anyway,”

“I’m not sure yet, I guess we’ll know once I see her father next week, but she’s Mother damned powerful, that is.”

A sense of terrible dread filled her entire body at the horrible realization; she was going to see her father again. After all those years running as far away from him as she could, she was going to be forced to see him again.

Panic started settling in her chest, now she was under the relative protection of the High Lord of the Night Court, the bargain she had made for eternity not allowing her to ever leave the Court.

She had to advert her eyes from the two males staring at her in hunger and cringe at the thought of being trapped between her awful male of a father and the awful male that now basically…he basically owned her.

What had she done. What had she accepted. She had traded an evil for another evil, and she wasn’t sure which one was the worst of them.

The panic started to intensify in her chest.

She retrieved to a dark corner in an empty space, she had to calm herself down or she was going to make of herself a bigger spectacle. But the realization of her whole situation was just settling down, and it all was fucking terrifying.

Suddenly, while her chest felt as if it was about to burst out and her breathing became more rapid, a calloused hand grabbed hers and squeezed slightly.

She didn’t startle at the touch; for she knew it all too well. She had held that same calloused hand a thousand times after horrible Nightmares, had held it while she got out of the woods when she fell into that same hole in the ground six times. Those hands had touched her face and healed her wounds when she trained a little too hard with Mor or simply got an injury for doing something incredibly stupid.

She squeezed Azriel’s hand in return. His body hidden in shadows, while she stared at the party with a raised chin and an expression she had learned from the very male at her side right now.

No, being her father’s captive couldn’t be the better evil than this. Because there, nor Azriel or Rhys or Cassian or Mor or Alhena and Valeria were with her. In there, Azriel would never hold her hand like this again, and so she held tight into that hope, held tight to his grip.

Because there was no holding back now, but as long as she had her family, she would not let the panic take over her.

☪︎⋆

Her hands were so sweaty she couldn't wipe them no matter how hard she tried. Nerves were eating her alive, taking over her heart and her entire nervous system. But Azriel's words echoed in her head like a safety mantra she repeated every time she felt her heart was going to burst out of her chest.

"Don't let them see your fear, don't let them take hold of your fear. It is yours, and yours alone."

It is mine. Mine alone. Mine. Mine....

She repeated herself over and over again as she walked behind the High Lord of the Night and his Lady through the corridors of Adriata's castle. Where the meeting of High Lords was to take place.

High Lords…Her father would definitely be there, and her brothers...she didn't know. Rhys wasn't there for the obvious fact that they were at war, and he was too busy leading a squadron to attend these ridiculous meetings. But her brothers were not warriors, Mareena knew all too well, and if they were there too....

At least Azriel was at her side, and Alhena was one step ahead; that was enough to keep her from panicking.

When the doors to the hall opened, Mareena took a deep breath, before being greeted by the image of the 7 most incredibly intimidating men, exuberant with power. Everything inside her trembled in terror, and that power that activated whenever she felt a latent threat pulsed nervously in her veins.

Mareena swallowed dryly and raised her head, forcing her power to remain silent and obey her command.

“Rhett, what a great pleasure you finally decided to show up,” his voice made something feral and wild alter her every insides.

Something she hadn’t felt in a long while, something she had hoped she never had to feel again. But there she was, years after everything she had went through to escape, standing only meters away from her father.

Her blood fell cold and her breathing started to catch up in her lungs. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t brave enough, she…

She felt a little push at her back, and by the way those hands made her skin feel hot and her chest to squeeze, she knew perfectly well who had it been.

Discreetly looking at her side, she saw Azriel’s impassive face, his scarred hands were at his side, but his shadows slightly twisted. She tried hard not to smile, to copy his same emotionless expression, but it felt almost ridiculous, by the way her heart was absolutely betraying her with its heavy rhythm.

Mareena gave a step closer, then another, and then she was close enough for her father —and, her three older brothers, alongside their mother—, for them to see her.

She would never forget their expressions, the absolute masterpiece of the utter shock and disbelief in their pale faces.

“You…”

“Is something wrong, Jalus? You look a bit pale,” The High Lord of Night said condescendingly.

Mareena stared at her father’s eyes and did not avert her gaze with a stolen bravery she did not know where she got from.

“You had her all this time,” her father stood from his seat, his eyes almost out of their pockets.

“Who?” Rhett pretended confusion, and then he looked back at her, as if understanding. “Oh! You mean my beautiful goddess?”

Mareena saw a flinch of something similar to surprise in her fathers eyes for a split second, but it vanished so quickly she could’ve had imagined it, only anger was left in his deep green eyes.

Mareena almost cringed at the nickname. “Goddess”, that’s how the King of Hybern had called her once.

“Who is the beautiful lady, Rhett?” A dark skinned male questioned, a brow lifted in amusement, and Mareena almost gasped at his beauty.

It was as if the sun had taken human form. All its light and roughness and power molded into an almost too rough, yet too perfect male.

“Gentlemen, I don’t see how my company would be of any of your interest, but if you’re all too curious; may I present to you my newest acquisition, a true goddess come to live, just as beautiful, and just as powerful. Mareena, darling, would you come forward?”

He signaled with his hand, and she had no option but to obligue. As she passed by Alhena, the female softened her gaze a split second, telling Mareena she had nothing to worry about, her mother was right beside her, and so she lifted her face just as the female had taught her, and faced her father with unbothered eyes.

The four males squeezed their jaws so tightly she thought they may break at one point, while the Lady of Spring merely…stared at her, Mareena couldn’t exactly decipher in what way. There was no sign of Tamlin whatsoever. Good.

Then her father’s eyes lingered in her bare arm, where the bargain tattoo curled up in a beautifully tragic way.

“Oh, you did not.”

“You bitch,” one of her brother’s laughed drily, and all the other five High Lords stared at her arm all at once.

“Hello, father. Brothers.”

“Father?” The perfect sun crafted male said with amused surprised, and then threw his head back in laughter.

“Father? So she’s the girl your little bitch of a son almost killed mine for,” another male said, his voice so cold she felt it freezing her insides.

Mareena adverted her eyes from her father to look at her side, where a male, pale as snow, with hair as moonlight, sat with a raised white brow. Everything about him was pure coldness, from the way his glacier blue eyes stared at her, to the way his every feature seemed to be as sharp as ice. Besides him, tho, was a male that made Mareena’s heart pound with excitement and nostalgia, a male that almost stole a smile from her lips, hadn’t she been so scared to show anything but complete unbothereness in front of all those people.

Kallias stared at her with cold eyes, but behind them, she saw the same as she felt; the nostalgia, the relief of seeing each other again. It had been so long ago that he found her almost dead in the frozen woods of the Winter Court.

A female that she could only guess was his mother sat at his father’s other side. An impossibly beautiful female that looked too bright, too sweet to be what she imagined of a Lady of Winter.

Wait a second, Kallias had been attacked by one of her brothers? Mareena regained conscious of what the High Lord of Winter had said, and a wave of rage and guilt cursed through her, making her look back at her former family with more will in her eyes.

She took a moment to scan the room at last. Everyone else was extremely confused as they stared at them, the sun god; the dark skinned male, seemed to be enjoying all of this way too much, another dark skinned male, one Mareena could only guess, by his clothing, was the High Lord of the Court they currently were on; Summer, seemed to be completely lost of all context. The one red head male looked completely annoyed, with a gorgeous female at his side that simply looked lost and a little red haired boy who clung tightly to his mother. Then there was a tanned male with a scrutinizing gaze, the one that had to be, by her own conclusions, the High Lord of the Dawn Court, as if he was paying extra attention trying to understand the drama that unfolded in front of him. And Kallias’ father, who stared sharply and bone-freezingly towards one of her older brothers, the one in the middle, the one she hated the most, Reed. So he had attacked Kallias, she was not surprised at all. He used to beat her up too, very often.

The memories of it made her feel that same wild outbursts of feelings threatening to shatter her gained calmness and control. She felt the heat in her face before she realized her hands itch with the necessity of letting her power burst. She felt a light brush of a delicate hand in her arm, and a murmur of softness in her ear. Both Azriel’s shadows and Alhena’s touch brought her back to the necessary control.

“So what, are we going to ever start the important meeting at hand, or you’ll just stay there and stare at each other? Because I would love to go back to my business if that’s the case,” the red haired male said with a bored look.

Her father took a deep breath, Rhett laughed slightly, amused by his own twisted games, and Mareena did not lowered her head until her father arched a brow.

“Glad to see you’re alive, child,” oh, he was anything but glad, and everyone could clearly see it.

“Couldn’t say the same, to be honest,” she didn’t know where all that insolence had come from, but she was satisfied of it when she saw her father’s jaw so tense it almost snapped.

Rhett and that sun male laughed out loud, her brothers stood all from their chairs but their father stoped them immediately. She saw from the corner of her eye how Kallias smiled slightly, quickly taking his smile away but winking at her.

Then she felt the shadows again, caressing her skin with soft proudness, delivering the message from their master.

“That’s my girl.”

[justiceiswater]

the most perfect example of this meeting could have been an email lol or whatever the group chat/zoom call equivalent for the fae would be. they were there for like 30 minutes! half of which was sent socializing! 

doesnt Eris hear her?! When she says “Im going back to the mortal realm” what shes thinking is “give me a reason to stay” ugh! he needs to show her he wants her! its not enough anymore to just be nice. its time to woo! 

im happy that she’s made up with the night court though. ive grown attached to them. 

also!!! literally 20 minutes ago i told you i wanted Leonora to have a mate! someone to want her! and look what you’ve given me! from the past! how did past!you know what present!me would need/want! amazing

chapter xviii - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 5,000+

masterlist

The next week consisted of a new routine. 

Y/N would wake up to breakfast being politely brought into her room – despite insisting she could make her own way into the kitchens and save the servants the hassle.

When she emerged from her chambers, there was always at least two hounds waiting outside for Y/N. They followed her around the property, acting as both her companions and guard dogs. The servants and guards around the Forest House seemed shocked to find their High Lord’s blood hounds being pleasant and loyal to someone other than Eris. But Y/N ignored their stares. 

After breakfast, Y/N would train with the Weapons Master of Autumn Court, who did not take it easy on her just because she was his High Lord’s mate.

Though he did manage to compliment Y/N on the first day for the previous training she clearly had been given. But for some reason, Y/N stopped herself from saying she was a Valkyrie. 

The blood hounds would sit and watch Y/N train. And if she ever got knocked off her feet, they would growl warningly at her assailant. She tried to tell them it was OK, earning her a sad whine from them.

After training, Y/N would go to the main library of the Forest House – because apparently there were nearly a dozen. And there Y/N would research mating bonds, as well as the histories of Autumn Court. 

Y/N had asked Lucien to show the library to her. He had quirked an eyebrow at the question, but asked for no further information. And Y/N made sure to memorize the route so she wouldn’t be forced to expose her new habit to any of the servants. Though Y/N doubted that there were many secrets about her in a royal household. 

It had been just over a week of this routine when breakfast wasn’t delivered to her room.

Y/N was relieved, thinking that the servants had finally listened to her request and realized that she could find her own breakfast in the kitchens. 

But as Y/N opened the room to her bedchambers, she jumped when there was a small female standing in front of her, looking up with an innocent gaze. 

She bowed to Y/N, which felt entirely unnecessary. “Pardon the surprise, Lady Y/N. But Lady Leonora hoped you would join her for breakfast this morning.” Then the servant looked over Y/N's shoulder right before a loud thunder struck. “Since the rain will mean you have no training for today.” 

Y/N blinked. She had been so delighted with the servants not waiting on her hand-and-foot that she hadn’t even noticed it was raining when she woke up. 

Was it really a request from Lady of Autumn? Or was it simply the polite way to tell Y/N to do as she said?

“Right. Yes,” Y/N finally sighed. “You will show me the way?”

“Of course, Lady Y/N.” 

She had to stop herself from wincing at the second use of the incorrect title. 

“You needn’t call me 'Lady',” Y/N told her softly as they walked through the winding halls of the Forest House. “I am of no noble blood. Just Y/N is fine.” 

The servant somehow seemed to expect such a comment and smiled up at her. “But you are the High Lord’s mate. It does not matter where you come from. Even without your connection to our High Lord, you are a hero to most here. Calling you Lady Y/N is the least we could do in return for what you have done for Autumn Court.” 

Y/N was taken aback by her words.

Most run from her when they see or hear of her witchcraft. It made them fear and distrust her. But fae were strange beings; they only ever seem enamored with her gifts. 

They reached the chambers of Lady Autumn much quicker than Y/N would’ve expected. With how close her own rooms were to hers, she was surprised she hadn’t run into her yet. 

The servant gestured to the door, making it clear that she was going to remain in the hall. “She is expecting your arrival. Please.” 

Y/N didn’t understand why she suddenly felt so nervous. 

It was obvious both Eris and Lucien loved their mother dearly – and were utterly protective of her. But that didn’t prepare Y/N for the type of female Leonora actually was.

Perhaps the centuries of being forced into a marriage with Beron had made her cold and brutal. 

But how could such a thing be when Eris and Lucien had both been nothing but kind to her? Surely that kindness came from her. 

When Y/N walked in, Leonora immediately rushed to her with a warm smile. 

“Y/N, thank you for joining me. I am grateful of the rain, otherwise I would never be able to steal you away from your training. Eris says its quite important to you.” 

“T-Thank you for inviting me,” Y/N managed to say. Though it came out almost like a question she was so out of her element. 

“I have wanted to come see you and ask how you were acclimating…but Eris is so worried about you being overwhelmed here. I did not want to add to it.” 

“Oh,” Y/N blurted out. “I mean, you are not overwhelming me at all, Lady Autumn.” 

Leonora tried not to laugh at the title. “Please, none of that. I am Leonora. In fact, I am no longer the Lady of Autumn.” 

“Aren’t you still the dowager Lady of Autumn?” 

Y/N truly didn’t know. If it was the mortal realm and Leonora had once been Queen, she would’ve become the Dowager Queen.

But everything was a bit different in the fae realm. 

Leonora smirked. “If I’m being honest, I don’t really care for titles. I never did. Now, I am simply the mother of the new High Lord.” 

Y/N kept waiting to offend, but Leonora seemed to not take anything too seriously. At least not in this moment. 

Leonora guided Y/N to what appeared to be her own small living room. “Now, Eris said you prefer coffee in the morning, saving tea for nighttime.”

Y/N had to hide her smirk at the idea that Eris talked about her so much to his mother that such a little detail of her personality would get passed to Leonora. 

Then Y/N took in Leonora’s dress. There were no greens or reds or rich browns of the Autumn Court to be seen in her clothes.

No, instead she wore mostly black.

Was she in mourning? Or had this place been her prison for so long that she felt sickened by its uniform? 

Servants came out with a silver trey filled with teacups, a kettle, milk, and sugar. But once they set it down on the coffee table before the two ladies, they disappeared entirely. 

Leonora gave Y/N a sad but considerate look. “Is there something I can do to make you more comfortable, Y/N?”

Her face got hot with embarrassment. “No! No, sorry! I mean, you must e-excuse me. I…I get very…umm…overwhelmed in such settings. I was never taught any sort of…e-etiquette.” 

Leonora immediately knew what Y/N was trying to say and gave her a warm smile before she reached over to place on a hand on hers. “If you ask me, such decorum is a waste of time and effort. Coffee still goes to the same place, no matter how you drink it.” 

As if proving her point, Leonora quickly poured herself her own coffee, purposely making it louder and ruder than a polite Lady would. 

“Y/N, I didn’t bring you here as some test or to interrogate you. I was just…Well, I was only hoping I could get to know you.” 

Suddenly a window flew open, and the wind rushed into the room. It was gentle, not disrupting anything in the room. It simply blew around Y/N’s face, fluttering her hair. 

Y/N finally seemed to relax and allowed herself to believe Leonora’s claims. 

Leonora slowly started to ask her personal questions – nothing controversial, and absolutely nothing even so much has hinting at her mating bond with Eris.

Leonora seemed fascinated by Y/N being a witch and asked many things about her craft and abilities. Not once did she make Y/N feel like some sort of freak or monster. 

It became easier and easier to talk to her. 

Now Y/N didn’t know why she expected Leonora to be so stiff and cold. She was the opposite: welcoming, warm, and understanding. 

A couple hours had gone by of them just chatting, getting to know one another. 

And it had made Y/N feel brave. 

“Why do you stay here?” She whispered softly when they found a moment of silence, watching Leonora’s face carefully. 

Leonora’s brow furrowed with confusion. 

Y/N continued, “Why do you not go to him?”

Leonora nodded slowly, somehow knowing exactly who ‘him’ was. “Eris told me you had a way of knowing things…”

Then she gave her a sad grin. “I fear it is much more complicated than that.” 

“Do you no longer love him?” Y/N’s eyes widened, realizing what she blurted out. “I apologize. I am…not good at keeping to my own business.” 

“I do,” Leonora surprisingly answered. “Love him still, that is.” She frowned and her eyes stared into nothingness as she got lost in her own mind and heart. “But much has happened. There is so much between us. Beron’s death did not just suddenly rid of us of the centuries we spent apart.” 

Y/N gave her a sympathetic look. “He loves you still. It’s so strong that it’s all they tell me about him.” She grasped Leonora’s hand. “He’s waited for you all this time…what’s a little bit more? But you should only go to him when you are ready.” 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the entrance of the chambers. 

A servant came out of nowhere to answer it and immediately stepped aside to let them in. 

A male servant entered and bowed to them. 

“Pardon the intrusion. The High Lord wishes to see you.” 

“Of course,” Leonora nodded and stood. 

The servant cleared his throat awkwardly. “The High Lord has actually requested both of you, Lady of Autumn. Lady Y/N is to join us, as well.”

The two females shared a look. 

“It will be quite alright, dear.” Leonora told Y/N with a reassuring smile. 

––

Y/N and Leonora were escorted to the great hall, where Eris stood around a giant round table with his advisors. 

The High Lord did a double take as soon as he spotted Y/N’s entrance. 

The servant bowed his head to Eris. “Lady of Autumn and Lady Y/N, High Lord. As requested.” 

Eris nodded his thanks. 

All of his advisors stared at Y/N. Apparently they were used to Leonora, and almost ignored her presence entirely after bowing their greetings. 

Y/N shifted her weight nervously, but kept her head high.

Was she finally being punished for helping usurp Beron Vanserra? Despite helping crown Eris, was there consequences for her to face?

She didn't know the laws of the fae realm.

An advisor cleared his throat and looked to Eris calmly. “I believe it would be best for you to explain, High Lord.”

Eris glared at his table. “Would it? Because I have made it clear what my position is on the matter.”

That was when Y/N noticed Eris was clutching a letter in his hand – quite violently by the look of his white knuckled grip. 

Eris sighed and looked at only Y/N, stepping away from the table to get closer to her. 

“The other High Lords of Prythian have finally decided to acknowledge Beron’s demise. When word reached that two Night Court Illyrians and Lady Death had come to our aid, it has made them…concerned.” 

Y/N narrowed her gaze. “It was Rhysand who sent them…why does he not answer for their involvement?”

“He will be questioned, as well. There will be a meeting of the High Lords in two day’s time. But they have…requested that you also attend.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped slightly. “Me?” She looked around at the advisors. “But how…how do they even know of my existence?” 

Eris frowned. “Those still loyal to Beron made sure to spread the news of the witch who cursed Autumn Court.” Then he hesitated before adding, “But the news of my mate has also become…known.” 

Of course it has. That was why she was stuck here, wasn’t it? 

Eris stepped closer to Y/N with a look of determination. “You do not have to go.” 

But Y/N swallowed and glanced at his advisors. Clearly they didn’t agree with that option. 

���I-I have a choice?” She asked so only he and Leonora could hear. 

“Of course you do,” Eris answered, as if it were obvious.

“But…I don’t understand what they want from me.” 

Eris frowned. “They wish to question you about the night of the usurping. The other High Lords are weary about Rhysand’s aid. They see it as a move for him to take over other courts – or at least an effort to force other High Lords to give him something in return.” 

Y/N’s eyes darkened. “You mean they wish to interrogate me. They don’t trust my role in all this.” 

“I will not allow it. I will be there the entire time, as will my mother.” Then he snapped a warning glare at his advisors before once again adding, “But the choice remains your own.” 

Y/N took in a deep breath. “I will attend the meeting.” 

—🍁—🍁—🍁—

The meeting of the High Lords took place in Summer Court, which Y/N learned still had somewhat of a contentious relationship with Night Court after they stole a forbidden book. 

Y/N had asked the wind to tell her everything it could to prepare for her for this meeting. If she was going to be interrogated – even if Eris promised to prevent such a thing – she wanted to know any secret she could about these High Lords. 

Leonora’s handmaidens had woken Y/N up, insisting on helping her get ready. They did her hair and makeup. Then they put her into a dress that was the colors of Autumn Court, but clearly a lighter fabric to deal with the warm and beachy climate of Summer Court. 

But when Y/N met Leonora in the hallway, she was surprised to find the former High Lady in a gold and white gown. She'd been expecting another conservative black dress. But now it was clear that Leonora was sending a message to her past lover. 

Leonora smirked, knowing exactly what Y/N had figured out. “I think there is no longer a reason for subtly, do you not agree?”

Y/N gave a shy smile and nodded in agreement. 

“Come. Eris is waiting for us in the great hall.”

When the two females arrived, Eris did a double take at Y/N’s appearance. 

“Did we do well, my son?” Leonora asked him teasingly. 

Eris tried to glare at his mother, but it mostly looked like amusement. 

He cleared his throat and stepped towards them, offering his hands to winnow them. “Let us get this over with, shall we?” 

Y/N couldn’t decide which she hated more: winnowing or flying. But the winnowing left her feeling rather disoriented. 

They had arrived at an entryway of a palace. Y/N assumed it was the home of High Lord Tarquin – or one of his homes.

But then she heard the waves and the squeaks of seagulls. And she turned to see one of the most beautiful views she’d ever laid eyes on. 

Immediately she felt a sheen of sweat cover her skin. Yes, the views of the ocean were beautiful. But Y/N was not meant for such a warm climate. Already, she wished to return to the brisk air of Autumn.

“High Lord Eris, Consort Leonora, and Lady Y/N,” the servant greeted them with a bow. “The other High Lords have just arrived. Please, follow me.” 

Y/N was surprised to find Eris’ arm extended for her to take. Leonora walked behind them, clearly trying to show that she was no longer the Lady of Autumn. 

There were seats set in a circle in what appeared to be an open room to the elements, surrounded by high, white arches that offered a perfect view of the ocean. Y/N could still perfectly hear the soft crashing of the waves. 

Y/N hated that they were the last to arrive. She was sure Eris did it as some sort of power move. But it meant that everyone stared at their arrival. 

She knew that Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, Azriel, and Nesta would all be here. But Y/N couldn’t find it in herself to even so much as look at them. 

Tarquin stood at their approach and gestured to the only empty seat left in the circle. “Thank you for coming, Eris.” 

With a snap of his finger, Eris magically placed an identical chair next to his own and gestured for Y/N to sit in it. Leonora seemed to have no intention of sitting and stood behind them, gently propping her hand on the edge of her sons chair. 

To Y/N, it was a polite gesture for Eris. But really it was a show of irritation that Y/N was not important enough to receive her own place in the circle – despite being a High Lord’s mate. 

Y/N noticed that Tamlin – Feyre’s ex-lover – had even managed to show up. Apparently he had failed over and over again to tend to his duties as High Lord of Spring. 

“Let us not waste time,” Tarquin began, eyeing Eris closely. “You can understand how the recent events in Autumn have made the rest of us weary.” 

“I am not the first High Lord to usurp the throne,” Eris answered boredly. “I was not aware all of you were so allegiant to Beron.” 

“It is not your usurping. It is how you involved the Night Court in your attack against your own father,” Thesan commented. 

“I did not ask for their aid,” Eris answered instantly. “They came to save Y/N, not help with my effort to take the throne.” 

“Ahh, yes. The witch,” Helion hummed with amusement.

The High Lord of Day Court looked Y/N up and down, as if it would solve her mystery for him. 

“We came to Y/N’s aid because she is our friend and a fellow Valkyrie,” Nesta chimed in coldly. “Her gifts sent us a warning that she was in danger, that Beron had captured her.” 

“To cross Court lines to aid in foreign affairs is a risky one at best,” Tarquin answered. 

“Perhaps we should ask the witch of what happened to her that night,” Helion pushed with subtle amusement. 

“The witch has a name,” Eris hissed. “And it would be wise of you to use it.”

Helion’s gaze snapped to Leonora, only for a second. Then he nodded his head. “My apologies. Y/N, would you step forward please?" 

Y/N’s teeth ground together as she stood from her chair and stepped into the circle. 

“Why don’t you tell us about your journey?” Helion requested gently. 

“I lived on my own in the Mortal Realm…until I was captured by fae – amongst other women and children. It had become clear that we were being traded to wealthy fae, who wished to use humans as they pleased. I will let all of your imaginations come up with what exactly that meant. I attacked my captors as we passed through Autumn Court, and told the others to run for their lives. That is when…when Eris found me.” 

With the wave of his hand, Eris magically dropped a pile of papers beside Y/N. 

“What is this?” Rhysand spoke for the first time. 

Eris tilted his head. “Documents, proving that Beron was aiding wealthy merchants from the Continent in trading mortals as slaves. They were being brought to the Middle to be sold to the highest bidder and transported across the sea. Y/N was not the first to be taken – but she was the first to escape and save the rest of the victims in her party.” 

“Everyone here knows this is not the only evil Beron has released onto Prythian,” Eris added for good measure. 

Helion's gaze darkened as it once again flickered to Leonora. Surely he was imagining all the abuse his past lover had endured by the hands of Beron Vanserra.

He was the first to break the tense silence. “No one here believes that Beron was a just and rightful ruler.”

Once again, his gaze snapped momentarily to Leonora. 

“Rhysand aided my cause because I asked him to protect my mate with his life," Eris announced. "Night Court was the safest place for her."

“Why not go to another Court?” Kallias, the High Lord of Winter, asked. 

“The Archeron sisters were once mortals. My brother is an emissary there. The Night Court was well aware of my plans to usurp Beron. They understood more than anyone why I could not leave my mate just anywhere to be protected from my father.” 

“And what did you promise Rhysand in return?” Kallias urged. 

“Autumn’s loyalty and aid – when it would be mine to give,” Eris announced. “But Night Court did not request this of me, I offered it freely.” Eris shifted in his seat awkwardly. “I was a male…desperate to protect my mate.” 

It took all of Y/N’s strength not to turn around to see Eris’ face as he spoke of what he did to protect her. She could only stare at the ground, her hands clasped behind her back. 

“Y/N became one of us,” Feyre spoke for the first time. “We would have protected any innocent with or without the promise of Autumn’s loyalty.”

“And are you innocent?” Tamlin also broke his silence, glaring at Y/N as if she had personality offended him. “You are a witch, after all.” 

But Y/N would not take it. “Careful how you speak to me, High Lord Tamlin.” Her eyes darkened. “Or you risk exposing secrets you wish to keep locked away. I know more of you than you could ever know of me.” 

She couldn’t see it, but Eris grinned at his mate with pride. 

“Y/N is not like the witches we have heard about,” Rhysand chimed in. “She comes from a coven who wished to keep to themselves, only revealing themselves to aid others. That was proven when she risked her life to save our son.” 

“Which was also an attack set by Beron,” Eris noted darkly. 

Feyre and Rhysand sat up straighter.

Azriel and Cassian’s fists tightened at their sides.

Nesta looked…murderous. 

If Beron still lived, Y/N was sure that Nesta would have singlehandedly killed him after hearing such news.

“The slave trade was not Beron’s only evil dealings. He planned on kidnapping Nyx, fearful of the power the child would grow to have. Whether he planned on keeping the child hostage for his own use or selling him to the Continent, I do not know. The assailants were no soldiers of mine, but they were of the Autumn Court.” 

“It would appear it was time for Beron Vanserra’s demise,” Helion declared darkly. 

“It should have happened long ago,” Eris answered back. 

“What power do you possess, Y/N?” Thesan asked with curiosity. “Your coven has hidden themselves rather well. 

Tamlin leaned forward in his seat, eyeing Y/N with suspicion. “The only witches I know of are desperate for power. They will kill whatever innocents they can find, and consume their blood.” 

Y/N had been waiting for such a question – dreading it, actually.

The thing was, she did not even know what she was capable of any longer. A new power had been unleashed inside her. Whether it was during life or death situations only, she did not know. But she feared losing control of it. 

“She is not a subject to be studied!” Eris snapped before Y/N could even think of a response to the question that felt more like an accusation. “Y/N has been through enough, and I will not allow her to be poked and prodded for your own curiosities.” 

Helion also came to her defense and claimed, “She is not the first of her kind. I have met other witches like her in my life. Their hearts are true and they hold no evil.” Then he smirked. “But none were as powerful as it seems you are, Y/N. Curious that the Cauldron chose a mortal witch for a High Lord’s mate.” 

“That is enough discussion of our bond,” Eris interrupted, leaving no room for argument. Then he addressed the circle of High Lords and Ladies. “Are you all content now?” 

“It is clear Night Court has no ploys to take over other courts,” Kallias nodded. “And I for one think Prythian is better off with Beron dead. Leave Eris to handle his court. He has a long journey ahead of him, gaining the favor of his fae.” 

Everyone else nodded in agreement. 

As everyone rose, some started quietly talking amongst themselves. 

Y/N watched as Helion locked eyes with Leonora. It was clear that he wanted to go to to her. He took half a step in her direction, but something made him hesitate. 

She was so distracted with the interaction, that she hadn’t seen her friends of the Night Court – if that’s even what they were to her anymore. Y/N still hadn’t figured it out. 

After Eris insisted he’d promised something in return for them all looking after her, Y/N felt like perhaps she’d been too harsh with assuming they had been using her for their own gain. 

Feyre stepped forward first, with a cautious warmth. “I am glad to see you well after the attack, Y/N.”

Then Y/N suddenly felt a warmth behind her. Eris was right behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body at her back.

He wasn’t going to interrupt or cease the conversation, but he wanted her to know he was there for her. 

“Y/N, you must understand, we never wanted to keep any secrets from you,” Feyre continued. 

“For what it’s worth,” Eris muttered quietly to her. “I forbid them from telling you the truth. I thought things would be easier that way.” 

Y/N nodded slowly. 

Nesta and Cassian looked desperate for her forgiveness. Azriel watched her with a sadness in his gaze that he hid from everyone else quite well. 

“Everyone misses your store,” Cassian chimed in with a gentle smile. “Velaris’ isn’t the same without your witchcraft and medicine.” 

“Velaris isn’t the same without you,” Nesta corrected. 

Y/N took in a deep and shaky breath. “T-T-Thank you for taking me in,” she looked into all their eyes as she said it. “Deep down, I always knew even if Eris hadn’t promised you what he did, you still would have treated me as one of your own.” 

A wave of relief seemed to wash over the five of them. 

“But I wish to stay in Autumn Court,” she continued. “Until it’s safe for me to return to the Mortal Realm, that is.” 

Y/N tried to pretend that she couldn’t feel Eris’ entire body tense at the second part. 

“I hope we can continue to be friends,” she ended softly. 

“Of course, Y/N.” Rhysand answered immediately. “And you are always welcome in Night Court, whenever you wish to visit.” 

Nesta stepped forward. “And perhaps we could…visit you in Autumn.” 

Y/N nodded. But then quickly looked back at Eris for confirmation, as if he would take away such a privilege. 

He simply nodded, as well. 

Nesta hurriedly added. “Gwyn and Emerie said they wish to write to you, as well.”

Y/N grinned. “I would like that very much.”

“Are you keeping up your training?” Cassian asked with a smirk. 

“Of course,” Y/N narrowed her eyes playfully. “Eris has his Weapon’s Master training me every morning. Soon I’ll have mastered the fight strategies of Illyrians, Valkyries, and Autumn Court.” She quirked an eyebrow for good measure. 

“She will be a fearsome thing,” Eris muttered. 

Y/N didn’t expect such a compliment – especially from him and especially in front of such an audience.

Her face got hot from it. 

But when she looked up, Feyre and Cassian all seemed to be trying to hide their amusement. 

“We will send you the rest of your things by the end of the night,” Rhysand told her. 

“Oh, there’s no need. Eris has given me more than enough clothing.”

For some reason, it seemed wrong to take all those fanciful gifts Rhysand had insisted on gifting her after the attack on Nyx. It felt even more wrong to wear such things in a foreign court – and in front of her mate. 

But Eris didn’t seem to think so. “My servants will be waiting for their arrival.” 

Y/N’s brows raised in surprise. “But…if it’s not too much trouble to ask, I’d like my supplies and merchandise from my store.”

“Of course,” Rhysand said with a slight bow of his head. 

Leonora finally stepped toward the group. “Time to go?” She asked her son. 

He nodded. 

When Y/N turned back to her friends, they gave her an encouraging look. 

“We will see you soon,” Feyre insisted.

With that, Eris winnowed the three of them back to Autumn Court. 

Leonora already started to make her way to the dining room, leaving the two of them alone. 

“I really don’t need all those gifts Rhysand gave me,” Y/N insisted hurriedly. “They were beautiful, but they weren’t very…me.”

Eris shrugged. “You can sell them all before returning to the Mortal Realm. Open a new shop without trouble.” 

Y/N couldn’t understand why her heart sunk at his suggestion. Was he really so on board with her leaving and returning to the Mortal Realm? Did he not want her here at all? But that’s what she wanted, right? To be left alone and back in her old life of solitude and secrecy? 

-----

OK. This is quite long. Don't really know how that happened. But let me know what you thought! Everyone be like @pancakefancake

Chapter XIX

[jacksdreams]

"The most powerful High Lord in the world lost his mate, and has not yet come to claim her, even when she is defenseless in the woods." Jurian chuckled.

"Perhaps that's because Rhysand has not lost you at all. But rather unleashed you upon us."

Princess of Carrion: Chapter 7

A court of wings and ruin

[thefatesofspring]

Thought of the day:

It literally makes no sense that The Spring Court isn’t the most wealthy court in Prythian…

Not only does the court have the most to offer in trade in terms of food, it most likely develops the majority of fabrics in Prythian, not to mention herbs for medicines etc, then there’s wood exporting & possibly jewel mining. All of this most likely coming from just The Spring Court alone & then whatever overseas trade they do too…bruh The Spring Court is literally basking in riches!

This is why I’m adamant that Spring Court is the wealthiest court but is frugal with its spending, the high lords of Spring only spend when necessary.

The Spring Court is the very definition of a self sufficient court, it doesn’t really need anything from other courts & every return trade the do is really just an added luxury for them.

It also doesn’t make sense that The Night Court & Winter court are wealthy, by rights they should actually be the poorest of all the courts.

If I had to rank the courts in terms of wealth it would go like this:

1. The Spring Court

2. The Dawn Court

3. The Summer & The Autumn Court

4. The Day Court

5. The Night Court

6. The Winter Court

This is also why Sarah Janet Maas needs to spend so much more time on her world-building skills because we need more information on how the other courts operate their courts & gain their wealth

[reblogandlikes]

And to THINK Amarantha could have continued to basically be High Queen of Prythian with possible expansion, but her hots for Tamlin was too strong that he eventually became her demise with the help of a human.

This bitch had everyone on lock and stood on business for 50 years. A notorious no-nonsense, spiteful, vengeful general turned conqueror, and she fumbled for a music loving, limerick speaking, powerful and kind-hearted male with beautiful green eyes and luscious blond hair.

Damn. Ladies, never let a man distract you from greatness 😂

[velarisnightsky444]

My Love

Flufftober Day 11: Love Letters with Rhys

CW: Mentions of war. Actually a bit angsty for flufftober lol.

Summary: Rhys is off fighting in the first war, and you rarely see him. You savor the love letters he sends when he can.

Word Count: 377

October Masterlist

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

In the last five years, you had only seen your mate a handful of times. It shattered your heart, knowing he was out there fighting. Every time you saw him, you were haunted by the knowledge that it could be your last day together.

What you savored more than anything were the letters he sent you. They were rare, only sent when he was able. But you kept every single one in the drawer of your bedside table. Before you went to sleep every night, you read them all.

Today, you were cleaning the windows of your bedroom when a letter appeared on your desk. Your heart leapt in your chest, your eyes lighting up. You dropped the wet rag on the floor, unable to care enough to pick it up.

You gripped the letter from your off of your desk, ripping it open without care. The letter was written on rough parchment, but he had taken care with his words, each one written deliberately and in tidy handwriting.

My dearest, YN, I miss you with every ounce of my being. You are the first thing I think of when I wake, and the last before I go to sleep. Even with all of the blood and carnage around me, I still believe in good, because of you. Because of our love. You make me believe, even with everything I have witnessed in the last five years. I see your face in my mind at every moment. I hear your voice, your laugh. I feel your touch, and smell your perfume. I cannot wait for the day we are reunited for good. I have a feeling it will be soon. We are making progress, and I can tell the war is nearing an end. That will be the happiest day of my life. I love you, my dear, YN. I will never stop loving you. Yours always, Rhys

Tears fell from your eyes, staining the parchment. You read the letter over and over again, until you had memorized the words. You would never forget them. The words of your mate, the love of your life.

And you believed in his hope. Hope that the war was nearing it's end.

Hope that you would be reunited with your mate once more.

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

Kink/Fluff/Angstober Taglist: @serxndipity-ipity-blog @danikamariemain @book-obsessed124 @winchesterbbygrl @kissesfrommads @binnieonabike @fourthwing4ever @ghostslittlegf @mollygetssherlockcoffee @hawke1917 @nesta-houseofwindfantasy @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @honk4emoboys @rogerbarnesxx @a-courtof-azriel @kodokunarisu-blog @dxjaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @littlepippilongstocking

Rhysand Taglist:

General Taglist: @lilah-asteria @anneas11 @andreperez11 @isnotwhatyourethinking @effervescentbutterfly

comment to be added to any of the taglists!

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

[shittalkingwiththesuriel]

I feel like we moved on too quickly after Helion said that Azriel strangling Eris (at the high lords meeting) was going to be his new fantasy….

Like..

Hold on…

Elaborate…

Please…

[bxriles]

Y'all convinced me

It's official. I'm doing it. I'm writing a fic about the rebellion in the Court of Nightmares against Rhysand and the IC. If you didn't see my last post, here's the premise:

There's a set of siblings in the Hewn City, dreamers who have been abandoned by their High Lord. One of the sisters enters into a political marriage with Rhysand (pre-ACOTAR) and mysteriously ends up dead after discovering that he's found his mate. After the people learn of her death, a rebellion led by the two remaining siblings ensues in the Court of Nightmares and goes all the way up to Illyria.

Feel free to message me ideas or thoughts on this if you have any! I'm excited for this one!

[high-speed-r]

Early on into my time on the ACOTAR fandom, I called Rhysand “Rhys” like everyone else in his group does. But recently I’ve started calling him by his full name since, as he once said, his prisoners and enemies call him Rhysand

And you can bet your ass that he is certainly my enemy