#she's just human enough to make him ache. but she's just fae enough to accept him

[brackenferns]

@belabellissima's tags on this post deserve a post of their own, i—

[stonecoldholly]

Worldwalker: Chapter 3

Summary - After witnessing a ritual at a pagan festival in her hometown, Sam suddenly finds herself in a world where magic exists and dangers far worse than everyday crime lurk around every corner. Accepting her unfortunate situation is one challenge; trusting these otherworldly beings to help her is another. As she uncovers the truth, she often finds that it leads to more trouble than it’s worth. Sam must navigate this new world, find her way back home, and restart her life.

Warnings - hella angst, slight suicidal ideation if you look hard, other than that we're good...so far.

Word Count - 8,128

A/N - Welcome to Chapter 3! We're slowly getting somewhere. If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know; thank you so much to the ones who reached out, liked, reposted, and/or read this story. I have had such an intense need to write a story like this and couldn't hold it back any longer. Thank you for taking time to read it.

Part 4

AO3 Link

“Time will take our place, we return it back to one. The calm before the cold, the long and lonely road. Look for the light that leads me home.” Failure – Breaking Benjamin

Day Court, Prythian

Taking a bath in the equivalent of a swimming pool was legendary.

Her muscles were so sore that floating in the tub filled with copious amounts of salts and oils felt like lying on a cloud. The warm water soothed the aches and pains from every inch of her body and despite not having much sleep in the past 60 hours, she felt rejuvenated enough to make it through the rest of the evening. She spent well over an hour drifting in the water, blocking out her more self-deprecating thoughts and focusing more on the present as much as possible.

She tried not to think of those hounds of smoke that had chased her and Lucien, instead feeling the soft skin of her arms from the oils in the water. Tried not to think of the sheer terror that slammed into her when she held Lucien at gunpoint, preferring to inhale the relaxing lavender steam. Shoved down those memories of sitting in the tree wondering if that would be the final time she went to sleep; no, she rather liked swirling the bubbles around the tub.

After scrubbing herself clean of muck, she wrapped one of the fluffy towels around her body, trudging to the closet in the bedroom to find clean clothes to wear. She was still amazed by Lucien. He trusted her and in return, she trusted him. Her being here, alive, sealed her loyalty to him for however long she lived for. Even if she did end up going home, he would live on with her, being told in stories of how a fae stranger saved the life of a human woman before ever being able to say a word to her. She shook her head at the passing thought of publishing a book about her adventure; there were better things left unsaid. Stories better left untold and only remembered.

As she looked into the closet crammed full of beautiful fabrics, she realized she was out of her element. Fashion in her world and this one were exact opposites. She usually preferred to wear her jeans, t-shirts, her boots, and her leather jacket. Here, it seemed it would be dresses, skirts, or trousers that were flowy instead, all in beautiful lighter colors. She surveyed the variety of dresses, doubting they would do her justice, but she was thankful, regardless, that she didn’t have to don the muddied clothes again.

Sam pulled a sage-colored dress out from the closet, threw it on the bed, and tried to find some kind of undergarments to pull on. She opened multiple drawers trying to find something to pass as a bra, frowning when she only found a piece of cloth.

“Oh, you are shittin’ me right now,” Sam said, turning the cloth over and under, trying to figure out how she would be able to secure it around her, half tempted to just put her original bra on. “How in the fuck-”

A knock sounded at her door and she whipped around to face it, clutching her towel to her body tight. She slowly crept to the door, opening it about two inches and peering around it to find a female fae waiting there with a patient smile. Sam recognized her from earlier, one of the females who led her and Lucien through the halls. Sam breathed a sigh of relief before opening the door to let her in, quickly closing it behind her.

“Aella.” The female said, pointing to herself before Sam could say anything.

Clearly, word got out about the language barrier.

“Sam.” She introduced herself before grabbing the cloth, holding it up for Aella to see with a confused expression. “Uh…?”

She smiled reassuringly, nodding to the towel Sam was strangling, motioning for her to drop it. Sam, blushing furiously, slowly and awkwardly let the towel drop to the floor, resisting the urge to cover herself with her arms. Aella, for her part, remained completely unbothered and patient, motioning for Sam to turn around. Sam felt her embarrassment grow as she stood as naked as the day she was born in front of a stranger. Suddenly, throwing herself out the window didn’t seem like such a bad way to go.

Sam followed her instruction, allowing Aella to wrap her arms and the cloth around her. Sam took a breath and Aella decided at that precise moment to pull, with all her might, the cloth taut against Sam’s chest. Sam stumbled backward and Aella allowed her to regain her footing before pushing her forward only to yank her back again.

“Holy shit, Aella! I need to breathe!” Sam sputtered as Aella wrapped and tucked the cloth tightly to secure it to her person. Aella appeared in front of her, pulling the cloth out, up, and down to give her some breathing room and to allow the cloth to support her as a corset or bra would. Sam looked at Aella in wonder, trying to find where she was hiding all that strength.

Aella, bless her heart, found some underwear for her to slip on and then helped her into the green dress she had picked out. As Aella started brushing her hair and adding oils to it, Sam just stared at herself in the mirror, almost physically recoiling from her reflection.

She looked like she had been through Hell and back. There were purple smudges under her eyes from exhaustion and suppressing tears. Her skin looked dull as if most of its vibrancy had been sucked out and left in those damp woods. She had peppered cuts along her face and neck, a few littering her hands and knuckles from the pricker bushes and low-hanging branches. If Aella wasn’t putting oils in her hair to help bring some kind of life back to it, she knew it would be hanging in loose, limp curls. Aella was able to dry her hair with a snap of her fingers and Sam had never felt more envious in her life. How easy life would be to have the gift of magic.

After helping Sam into a pair of shoes that reminded her of ballerina slippers, Aella gathered her dirty clothes from the bathroom when a knock sounded on the door. Aella placed a palm on Sam’s cheek as if reassuring her that everything would be okay before opening the bedroom door. Sam was grateful for that small moment of reassurance, the action healing a bit of her heart.

Lucien stepped in as Sam rose from the vanity seat, after securing her gun to her thigh with her holster, to make her way towards him. Lucien smiled at her, bowing slightly at the waist and held out his arm for her to take. Sam let a small smile grace her face, having never had a male offer his arm to her, but she took it nonetheless and allowed Lucien to lead her down the hall.

He looked down at her, motioning with his left hand a little awkwardly and Sam knew then that he was right-handed. “I look better?” Sam looked at Lucien, raising an eyebrow but the same smile appeared again. “Pleased to know that I looked like trash earlier.” She joked to herself, Lucien giving her an inquisitive expression, which she waved off, instead giving his arm a small squeeze. “Thank you. I feel better.” Sam pointed to herself, rubbed her arm, and finished with a thumbs-up.

Lucien led her into a huge dining room with cream-colored walls and intricate gold trim wrapped around the edge of the ceiling and the floor. The largest dinner table she had ever seen sat in the middle of the room covered in plates of grilled and roasted meats, vegetables, fruits, and breads; a centerpiece of blue hydrangeas and white roses overflowing a golden vase, the very same floral arrangements scattered throughout the room. The entire room screamed elegance, royalty, and wealth, leaving no question as to how much power Helion had.

Helion met them at the edge of the table, taking her hand from Lucien’s arm and kissing the back of it in greeting. He motioned to a seat beside him to his left, gently steering her over to the chair as Lucien went to the right. Sam felt like she was dreaming as Helion pulled her seat out for her, pushing her closer to the table as she sat down.

A part of her was waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. Since she woke up in the tree, this entire part of the journey had gone so smoothly, so easily, and Sam had a nagging thought that there was something big coming. The trust they were putting in her hands, and hers in theirs, almost seemed foolish and Sam’s stomach soured. It has only been mere hours since the forest and yet she was being treated as though she was an honored guest.

She couldn’t stop her thoughts, her anxiety, from spiking as Helion served her food, putting roasted chicken, green beans, and some fresh fruit on her plate. Lucien sat across from her, serving himself and sipping from his cup slowly. She was nervous and it seemed that Lucien was too. She kept catching his eyes, an unspoken conversation passing between them. Once again, she was floored by how easy it all was with him.

Dinner was a quiet affair with a few small hand motions to different dishes. However, she didn’t mind it, savoring the flavors of the food on her plate. The food back home tasted nothing like this; dull and flavorless in comparison. She had a passion for cooking as it was a love language of hers and she started making mental notes of what recipes she needed to make here just so she could have it in its true glory.

Helion looked up about a second before the doors to the dining room opened. Sam didn’t need to look to know that whoever walked into the room was beyond powerful. Pure, raw power filled the space, pouring into the room like darkness swallowing up the light. Sam sat up straighter, her body almost doing it on its own accord, the pulse of power nearly demanding it. Her wide eyes snapped to Lucien who immediately stood from his chair to walk around the table to her, standing beside her seat as if he were her guard. Her nerves skyrocketed as four figures filled the doorway, two of which had fucking wings. Wings!

Sam sucked in a breath, her entire body going rigid and cold as she stared at the impeccably dressed fae male standing at the front with an equally stunning fae woman at his side. The two winged males standing just behind them were dressed in black-scaled leather armor and strapped to the nines with more weapons than Sam could count. The force of their power rolled off of them in waves so intense it made even the flower arrangements lean away.

Sam’s leg started to bounce under the table, her body not knowing how to get rid of the nervous energy besides throwing herself off the balcony. Her eyes lingered on the two males with wings; lethal, dangerous, and devastatingly handsome, to cross them would be a fatal mistake.

The one with the red glowing jewels was a mountain of muscle, towering over everyone in the group. His long hair tied back out of his face and his expression was controlled, assessing the room for any threats. For as built as he was, he moved with enough grace that told her he was far more skilled than he was letting on. The way his eyes scanned the room, in a grid formation, told Sam that he had military training. She knew that look, having seen Josh do the same thing, having been trained in the US Army. His golden amber eyes landed on her, taking in her appearance, and falling to how the fabric bunched on her right thigh.

The one with the blue glowing jewels was mesmerizing to look at. His entire presence enchanted her; from his short hair sweeping across his forehead, the elegant planes of his face, and the powerful build of his body, she was hypnotized. Whereas the one with the red jewels was brute force; this male was lethal strategy, quietly observing and completely unreadable. As she watched him, black mist ebbed and flowed from his body, wrapping around his shoulders and curling around his ears. His hazel eyes locked with hers, his massive wings shifting behind him, and the world ceased to exist for a moment. She felt like he could read her like a book as if he already knew everything about her before she even said ‘hello’. She felt incredibly small in their presence and she realized just how insignificant she was in comparison.

She felt a hand on her shoulder causing her to look up at Lucien, who hadn’t moved from his place beside her. His hands moved slowly, reminding her that she was okay and that they could be trusted. She scrunched up her face but nodded, her leg still bouncing uncontrollably under the table, turning back to look at the newcomers.

Helion met the fae male who stood at the front of the group. To say that he was gorgeous was the understatement of the century. There were no words to describe how captivating he was, dressed in a finely tailored black suit, his entire being radiated power and respect. She could taste it in the air. The female by his side, who seemed the friendliest but no less deadly, held herself with the same confidence as her partner and with the beauty beyond words. They were night incarnate, pure power contained in immortal bodies.

The leader of the new group greeted Helion, exchanging a few words and pleasantries before they were led over to Sam. She inhaled while standing up, stepping around her chair to greet them properly. She wasn’t going to greet anyone sitting down, as it was rude, and if they were willing to help her, she had to prove that she was worth it. She turned to look at Lucien for encouragement, which he gave with a soft nod of his head, stepping forward with her.

The action caused the handsome male’s eyebrows to rise but he didn’t say anything, only looking at Sam with a smile. She couldn’t help but lean in towards him when she realized his eyes were a striking violet, causing the two winged warriors to subtly shift closer to their leader.

“Wow, your eyes are stunning.” Sam breathed as she looked at them, taking in the flecks of deep blue swimming in the violet irises. The night sky seemed to swirl in them, stars twinkling in and out, and without realizing it, had taken another step forward towards him. She blinked when her eyes lost focus and shook her head, blushing furiously. She wouldn’t have Lucien translate that.

The male had a feline grin stretching across his face, his perfectly white teeth flashing, and she shivered at the sight. He said something to Lucien who turned to her, ready to translate for her once she was ready.

“He…” Sam’s eyes followed the best they could, her embarrassment filling her cheeks, not only from staring but because they had to resort to this broken form of communication. “He….help. He’s here to help. Okay. Um…” She looked at the male with violet eyes and then turned back to Lucien, drawing a question mark in the air and tilting her head to the side. “How?”

While Lucien translated, the male pulled a small silver bean from his pocket, handing it to Lucien and speaking a few words to him. Lucien had a hesitant look on his face as he listened, looking at the silver bean resting in his hand. He glanced at the male speaking and then at her but nodded, his hands already moving to communicate with her.

“I have to eat that?” Sam nodded to the bean, eyebrows furrowing. “What will it do?” Sam looked at Lucien, who signaled to his lips and then to everyone standing around her. “So, you mean to tell me, that I eat this,” She took the bean from Lucien’s outstretched hand and held it up between her thumb and pointer finger. “And then I’ll be able to talk to ya’ll?” She couldn’t help but cock her hip and raise her eyebrow in utter disbelief at Lucien, who only looked at her with confusion. The male with violet eyes still had a grin on his face that was bordering on unnerving and even the larger-winged male seemed to find some humor in the situation. “I swear to God, Lucien, if this kills me, I’m hauntin’ your ass.”

She turned to grab her glass from the dining table, looking at the bean in her hand. It was bigger than an actual bean, closer to the side of a mini candy bar. She turned it over in her hand, biting her bottom lip in apprehension. She looked up at the male with the beautiful eyes again, fear written in her own. His face softened for a moment but he nodded slowly, as if to coax her to take it or to reassure her. She looked at the male with the blue jewels who was watching her with such intensity that she thought he would take her out if she didn’t ingest the silver bean.

She made up her mind after that. If this was her only chance to be understood, she would have to risk it. With far more eyes on her than she was comfortable with she popped the bean into her mouth, tapping her forehead, sternum, and shoulders in a half-assed cross before washing it down with her drink.

The effects were immediate, a sharp pain ripping through her head, causing her to stumble back into the dining table and Lucien lurching forward to catch her. Raised, unintelligible voices rang out from around her as her glass dropped to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. It reminded her of the ritual, the same pain flashing through her when she caught herself on the edge of the table. The pounding of her head was intense; she could do nothing but hold her head and squeeze her eyes shut. A sharp yelp of pain escaped her lips, the feeling of an agonizing migraine searing forward and burning through her skull. Breathing through the pain was proving to be a challenge.

“Holy shit, goddamn this fuc-ah!” Sam mumbled under her breath, pressing her thumbs up into her eye sockets hard in an attempt to alleviate the pressure. A sigh of relief escaped her when the pounding began to ebb, taking a few excruciating moments before she was able to slowly open her eyes and blink away the black spots in her vision. “Was that an aneurysm? Did I die? Am I dead?”

“I assure you that you are still very much alive,” The deep voice was like velvet-wrapped night and her head snapped up, her eyes wide. “Hello, Sam, my name is Rhysand.”

Sam’s jaw dropped as her mind tried to comprehend the sudden change. Her head whipped to Lucien who gave her a small, hesitant smile. “Can you understand me?” She whispered to him, almost disbelieving. Magic! How incredible!

Lucien let out a quiet laugh, sounding just as surprised as she was. “Yes, I can.”

Sam let out a half sob, half laugh at the confirmation, smiling in pure relief. She put her hand on her chest, breathing in deeply to try and regain control over her emotions before she began sobbing hysterically in front of everyone. She was close enough as it was. She felt an unbelievable amount of weight lift from her shoulders at the ability to speak and understand them. She felt like she was in a dream.

Her eyes caught what looked like a living shadow slithering on the ground towards her and as she went rigid, it instantly recoiled. She followed it back to the male with the blue jewels who was staring at her, his face set in a cool mask; it took everything in her to tear her eyes away when Helion started speaking.

“Let’s move this into the sitting room,” Helion suggested, walking towards the door. “I believe we will be more comfortable there than in here.”

Lucien waited for Sam to regain her bearings, smoothing out her dress and taking the arm he offered her again. Sam could feel eyes on the back of her neck as they followed Helion down the hall and it made her uneasy. As they made their way down the hall, Sam watched shadows slide down the walls beside them, dodging the daylight, shooting forward in front of them before returning to the winged male at her back.

Helion opened the door to a sitting room, this room, was unlike the rest of the palace she had seen. The walls were lined with deep mahogany shelves, overflowing with countless books. Hardwood floors with a large patterned rug in reds and grays, with a small, low coffee table sitting in the middle. Large cream-cushioned chairs, each paired with footrests, with throw pillows and blankets scattered around the room and a long table running along the back wall for studying. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up the entirety of one wall, the cream-colored drapes pulled halfway allowing for a soft glow of natural light to fill the room.

This was a room Sam would take sanctuary in.

Rhysand motioned for Sam to sit in one of the large cream chairs, sitting in one of the chairs himself, waiting until the female sat down in a chair of her own. The two winged males stood behind their chairs, overseeing the entire room, and overtaking Sam’s vision.

“Before we start, allow me to introduce my Court.” Rhysand motioned to the long-haired winged male first. “Cassian, Commander General of the Night Court Armies.”

Sam sat up straighter at the title and folded her hands in her lap, recognizing the title as the immense sacrifice it was. The horrors he must have seen and survived to achieve such a title. Cassian nodded to her in greeting, his expression carefully controlled as Rhysand introduced him.

Rhysand continued, “Azriel, Shadowsinger, and Spymaster of the Night Court.”

Sam’s eyes turned to take in Azriel, her heart racing. He had a blank mask on his face but it was his eyes that burned with intensity, calculated and relentless. The shadows seemed sentient as if they could act upon their own accord. Sam watched as they emerged from his toned body, curling around his shoulders before absorbing back into his golden-brown skin. She was unsure if she should be scared or curious so she settled for a healthy medium between the two. ‘What is a shadowsinger?’

“A Shadowsinger is someone who can control and manipulate shadows.” Rhysand supplied and Sam’s head snapped to him. “I apologize, your thoughts are loud and unblocked, I will explain in a moment. This is Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court, my mate and my wife.”

For someone who physically appeared so young, Feyre’s eyes held the weight of the world, having seen something that took a part of her soul with it. While her beauty was not one to be so easily dismissed, she gave off such an air of confidence that she likely only needed to blink and her enemy would be dead. She was slender but strong, her muscles and curves balancing out her body as her petite stature claimed the large chair. ‘Mates? Like, soulmate?’

“Along those lines, yes, but deeper,” Rhysand replied to her out loud. “I am Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court.”

She looked at everyone in the room saying their names in her head silently. She was way in over her head.

“Lucien, Emissary of the Night Court, born to the Autumn Court, and heir to the Day Court.” Rhysand motioned to my red-haired translator. “Helion, High Lord of the Day Court.”

“So, High Lord basically means ‘King’?”

Cassian let out what sounded like a choked laugh and Rhysand looked like he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “In a sense, yes, we rule over our respective Courts. Feyre and I rule the Night Court. Helion rules over the Day Court.”

She knew she was among powerful people, the taste of metal had not left her mouth since arriving in this new place, and she knew it must have something to do with...magic; she was not prepared for the extent of that magic. Each one of them held themselves with pride, power, and control. She could feel it rippling through the room, the air was almost stifling.

“I have so many questions.” Sam swallowed, looking nervously around at everyone. “I’m not sure where to start.” Rhysand patiently waited for her to continue, his hands folded in his lap and a leg comfortably resting on the other. He was the epitome of relaxed and in control. “Where am I?”

“You are in Prythian, the Day Court specifically.” Rhysand supplied, watching her with interested violet eyes.

“….Prythian? Where’s that at?”

Rhysand tilted his head to the side. “Prythian is the world on which you are on, the planet, along with the name of this continent. The continent is separated into Courts, seven to be exact.”

Sam just stared at him.

Helion shuffled through a few books, flipping through pages, and making his way towards Sam. “You are currently here,” He pointed to an area on the map labeled ‘Day Court’. “Night is here,” At the very top, with what appeared to be a mountainous terrain, lay the Night Court. “There are also Dawn, Winter, Autumn, Summer, and Spring.” He pointed to each one in turn watching her expression carefully. “Lucien found you here, in Autumn.”

There was a faint buzzing in her ears gradually growing louder and she could feel the blood leaving her face, her skin turning pale and cold. “I...I…” She couldn’t form any words, the edges of the room had started to turn black, her vision tunneling onto Rhysand.

“Sam? Stay with us, you’re okay.” Lucien crouched beside her, taking her hand to anchor her to reality. “You’re fine.”

Sam felt the lump in her throat, “I’m...I’m not even on Earth?” Sam whispered as she watched the shadows twirling around her feet and ankles. “I’m not even on the same fucking planet anymore.”

“You’re okay, breathe, Sam.”

Rhysand uncrossed his legs and leaned forward slowly, his face a calm mask but his eyes burned with curiosity. “We are going to begin with the basics, okay? Who are you?”

She was minutes away from a panic attack, she could feel it rising up within her, but she had to get through this initial interview of sorts. This would make or break her ability to get help. They needed as much information as she could supply and she needed them. So, once again, she fought through her emotions. “My name is Samantha Grace Damato, I am 30 years old.”

“And you are from another world...Earth?”

“Yes,” Sam’s face went a little pale. Out of all the alien-related movies and stories, she never thought she would be in one, let alone be the alien. “Savannah, Georgia...in the country of the United States of America, on the planet of Earth.” Her voice was so small, so quiet as she replied, her eyes unfocused but still trained on the shadows playing with a loose thread on her dress. “Please tell me ya’ll’ve heard of America?”

The silence that met her in return screamed the answer.

Her worst fears came true, the reality she had tried so hard to deny even when faced with the facts. She wasn’t even on the same planet anymore. She was so far from home that no one here had even heard of her country. The room started to spin and she closed her eyes tightly, trying not to come undone.

“And this Earth does not have fae there? No magic?”

“As far as I know only humans and animals exist there,” Sam replied looking down at her hands. “We have magic but...not-not like this. It’s different.” She paused attempting to word it correctly amid her shock. “...it’s like...manifesting our intentions, we can do certain rituals or practice a certain way where we can stack odds in our favor but...if we believe it will happen, then it will. But, not many people that I know practice witchcraft.”

“Have you ever tried to practice this magic?”

“Not really but kind of. I’ve learned tarot and astrology but never actually participated in spell work with herbs and candles before.” She was beginning to regret not furthering her knowledge, perhaps if she did she would have found a way home. “I believe my mother did when she was alive but I honestly do not remember details.”

“Your parents. Are they still living?”

“No. My mom passed when I was 13 and I never met my father. I was a ward of the state.” Sam said with a harsh tone, resentment dripping off every word. With Rhysand’s questioning glance, she clarified. “When a minor has no living relatives left, the child gets moved to foster houses or orphanages until they are of legal age, which is 18.”

“What else can you tell me about your world?”

“Well, Earth is the third planet in our solar system out of the eight but I will defend Pluto being a planet, so nine. Unless you were talking about Earth as a whole, well...that’s going to take a lot longer to explain than just a few hours.”

Rhysand almost looked like he was holding back excitement. “We will discuss your ‘solar system’ at length at another time.”

Sam tried not to shift nervously under their gazes. “ O-okay.”

Feyre was the next to speak, her voice was soothing but direct. “On the eve of you waking up in Autumn’s forest, what happened?”

“I-I went to a pagan festival downtown...there was this ritual that I watched…” Sam’s attention got caught in the flashes of memory that flew through her mind and stumbled her words. She tried to shake them away to focus on answering the question but the images kept coming. Sam let out a frustrated sigh pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this. I swear I’m more professional than this.”

“We understand, you have been through a great ordeal,” Helion replied, sitting back in his chair with his legs crossed. “Take your time.”

Rhysand and Feyre shared a long look that Sam didn’t see. Feyre gave a sorrowful look in Sam’s direction but nodded to her husband who cleared his throat to get Sam’s attention. “We have a way to make this easier for you.” Sam looked up at him, eyes filled with devastation and longing. Feyre tried to hide the look of pity and sadness, but Sam caught it. “I have a gift that allows me to see and hear another’s mind.”

Sam stiffened.

“I am able to access your memories, hear your thoughts, and speak to you in your mind,” Rhysand explained it to her gently, treating her as if she was made of glass. In a way, her mind seemed like it was. “I will only look at the memories that led up to you appearing in our world and I will only do so with your express permission. It will not hurt you nor will I. Your mind is untrained and unprotected, and I was able to hear your thoughts earlier as if you spoke them out loud. I do not make it a habit of trespassing upon someone's mind without prior knowledge.”

Sam was at a loss. Allow someone to look into her mind? The violations and boundaries that it crossed almost made her lose her dinner. Allow these strangers to see her home? Her world? What if they wanted to take it? Destroy her world or hurt her to get there?

On the other hand, it would be the easiest way for him to understand something that even she couldn’t understand, let alone explain. Sam missed Melissa and Josh, missed her life, her job, the city, and the thought of not being able to return to it...

A quieter male voice broke her from her thoughts, “You are safe.” She looked up to find Azriel looking at her, the blank expression on his face faltered for a moment. “You are safe.” He repeated the sincerity in his words made Sam’s mind up for her. Cassian nodded once in agreement with him.

“You may access my mind,” Sam told Rhysand quietly, catching his eyes. “You may see my memories.”

“This may be uncomfortable. I will be as quick as I can.”

It started out with a soft caress of what felt like sharp talons sliding down the edge of her mind and it forced her spine straight. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Rhysand, tears beginning to gather in the corners at the realization that she couldn’t move. Her body wasn’t her own anymore and it was one of the most uncomfortable, terrifying, and vulnerable feelings she’s ever had. Rhysand gave her a reassuring nod before she felt him move past the thin barrier between her conscious mind and her subconscious.

Memories flew by like a picture book, so fast that she wasn’t sure which memories they were at first. Her eyes went unfocused, glazing over as Rhysand continued to go back, gathering as much information as he could from the night before they went to the ritual to her running down the alleyway. She wondered if he could feel the terror in her that night, as she watched herself run through the streets. She could recall the fear, the urgency to find a place to hide only to come up empty-handed. She could remember how defeated she felt as she ran towards the wall. The horrible feeling of falling. A tear fell from her unblinking, unseeing eyes as the memory continued.

She saw her wonder-struck face as she looked around the forest, her dark thoughts lying in her tree bed, pulling a gun on Lucien just this morning, running from those smoke hounds. He could hear every thought she had ever had, and see every moment of her life; it felt like he was stripping her naked as long as he was in her mind. Her emotions were suffocating her, painfully stealing the air from her lungs. Was she breathing?

Rhysand withdrew from her mind as gently as he could, sitting back to share a few pointed looks with his companions. Sam’s entire body slumped when he let go of her and she collapsed back against the cushions of her chair.

Helion stood to bring a glass of water to Sam, who took it gratefully from his hands. “Perhaps we should continue this tomorrow, allow her some rest.”

Feyre took Rhysand’s hand, nodding. “Of course.”

“Do you have a sleep tonic that she can take?” Lucien asked Helion, watching Sam as a haunted look settled on her face.

“I will have one sent to her room.”

“We will call it a day here, Sam,” Feyre said politely, offering her a small yet sad smile.

“Thank you, Sam,” Rhysand said suddenly making her look up at him. He looked uncomfortable and a small voice in the back of her head told her that it was unlike him to look like that. “For letting me into your mind, for talking to us, and I am sorry for what you have gone through.”

She looked down at her folded hands, running the pad of her thumb along her palm. “Thank you.” She replied, keeping her eyes cast down. She was so tired and mentally exhausted that it felt like her body would go down on its own accord.

“We will help you find a way back home.”

She could only nod, still running her thumb along her hand. She still had a few cuts scattered over the skin of her hands and face. She closed her eyes to take a deep breath, imagining that she was in her little overpriced apartment, curled up on her beat-up couch, and covered with her favorite warm blanket. For a moment, she could have believed it with the silence in the room but when she opened her eyes, she was still there. In the Day Court. Sitting in front of Rhysand. Still here and not there.

“Let’s get you back to your room,” Feyre said as she stood gracefully and Cassian mirrored her movements walking towards her. Lucien stood with Sam, walking out of the room with her but giving her some space.

Sam allowed herself to be guided back down the halls feeling numb. She had tried so hard not to recall the series of events that led her here but seeing them as they happened...it was overwhelming. The mind tends to reshape traumatic events, rewriting what happened and swapping facts for fiction. To protect itself, the mind places more extreme moments and feelings behind a wall for safekeeping, leaving the rest to be dissected.

But when Rhysand pulled the memories forward, the mind lost its control over its own protection, forcing Sam to witness it all over again as it was. There was no escaping it, the truth of her situation, the reality that she found herself in. She had tried to lie to herself, half way convincing her mind that it was dreaming but it was all over now. She could run from it no longer.

“I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon,” Feyre said to her as she opened the door to the bedroom she recognized as the one she was staying in. “There’s a tonic on the nightstand, it’ll help you sleep.”

“Thank you.” Sam replied, her voice so small and broken, and she hated it.

“Get some rest.” Lucien whispered to her as she entered the room, alone.

Little balls of light hovered in the air around the ceiling corners, casting a soft glow over the bedroom. Cassian gave her a small smile and a nod as he closed the door behind them, leaving Sam standing alone in the bedroom in a deafening silence. She turned slowly to face the bed but remained where she stood, soaking up the quiet of the room in hopes it would drown out the war raging in her heart and mind.

It took mere moments for Sam to hit her knees. Her emotions finally surged forward and poured out of her like an endless, broken dam. A heartbroken, frustrated scream ripped out of her mouth as the tears ran down her cheeks. She folded over herself, face buried in the plush carpet of a strange bedroom in a world that she did not belong to. Her entire life had been upended; what was she supposed to do? Accept it? Fight it? How?

She screamed as loud as she could as the sobs wracked her body, “What am I supposed TO DO?!”

She fell onto her side into a fetal position, holding her arms close to her body in an effort to self-soothe. The longer she lay on this carpet, the longer she stayed in this room, this world, the more the reality of her impossible situation sank in. How was her human mind supposed to come to terms with this?

She knew that she wasn’t doing anything to improve her situation by screaming and crying but she would let herself feel this. She would give herself this time to break down in order to work through it. She had put it off for long enough.

She continued to cry into that carpet for a while, her weeping turning into soft whimpers as she exhausted herself. She stared at the baseboard of the wall for hours, watching the shadows dance while her mind raced with thoughts so fast that it was quiet.

Yes, she would give herself this.

___________________________________________________________

The room was silent as Feyre, Cassian, and Lucien led Sam to her room, Azriel’s shadows following after them. They merged seamlessly with the dissipating light of the setting sun, skittering down the hallway behind his High Lady and brother. While in a different Court, shadows would accompany each member of the Night Court, along with the human woman. It was a safety precaution that they would not be caught off guard.

“We may need your assistance with research,” Rhys said to Helion as a glass of fine whiskey appeared in his hand. “I’m not sure how many books are left in the wake of Amarantha’s destruction but any assistance would be useful.”

“My libraries are at your disposal along with however many librarians and researchers you may require. Akar is the best researcher we have in the Lux Diei Atheneum; he will be your point of contact.” Helion offered with a wave of his hand, settling himself in the chair that Sam had vacated. “Of course, you are more than welcome to stay a while.” His eyes stayed a little too long on Azriel, who gave no indication that he noticed, much to Helion’s displeasure.

“As tempting as that offer is,” Rhys started an amused smirk on his face. “I’m afraid it will have to be another time.”

“Pity. I would have thrown a feast in your honor.”

“Indeed but I believe we both know that you never need a reason for a party, Helion.”

“True you are, Rhysand, true you are.” Helion chuckled quietly, leaning back in his chair. “Tell me, what do you think of our little human?”

“I believe there is more to her than even she knows,” Rhys replied swirling his whiskey around the glass gently. “She didn’t come here on purpose, her thoughts said as much, but finding out why she is here is the next step. I think she would fair better in the -”

“You do not need to explain what is already understood,” Helion interrupted while holding up a hand, a knowing smile stretching across his lips. “From the arrival of your messenger, I knew you would take her back to the Night Court. I believe Lucien intends to accompany you.”

Azriel’s face remained blank when Rhys turned to him. “He’s rather taken by her, isn’t he?” Rhys asked Helion, his tone nonchalant.

Helion shook his head, “I do not believe they are romantic feelings as Lucien already has a mate. But, given that Lucien was the one who found her, I believe he has taken her on as his ward.”

“Unlike him, no?”

Helion looked at Rhys, assessing the question for any underlying meaning. “No. His previous court may have had a heart of stone but his burns with the fire of a thousand suns. Do not mistake his kindness for weakness.”

Rhys held back a smirk for getting a small rise out of his fellow High Lord. “I would not dare.”

Helion held his gaze for a moment longer before holding Azriel’s, who didn’t so much as flinch at the action. Finally, he nodded as Feyre and Cassian entered the room, Lucien following a few steps behind.

“Then we will leave tomorrow after breakfast.”

“Sounds agreeable. I do wish for updates to our little human’s well-being.”

“Don’t trust us, Helion?” Cassian said with a large grin his wings rustling behind him.

“Out of all the courts, the Night Court is the one I trust most, but if you say anything to Thesan, I will deny it until the end,” Helion responded with a light chuckle. “No, I simply wish to be kept ‘in the loop’ so to speak. I believe she will play a pivotal role here in Prythian.”

Feyre held his stare for a moment. “What do you know, Helion?”

Helion shook his head, sipping his whiskey. “Nothing that is anything more than my own wanderings. You are no stranger to the ongoing tensions coming from the Spring Court.”

“Last we heard, he was prowling his lands as a beast more-so a man.” Cassian scoffed as he came to a stop beside Azriel, looking at him with a questioning glance. “Have you heard anything different?”

Azriel hummed as a shadow slithered down his neck. “Not enough to conclude. Tensions are quite high between Night and Spring for obvious reasons.” Azriel tried to hide his smirk as Feyre sat up straighter, holding Rhys’ hand who had the decency to look a tad remorseful. “I can contact my spies that are stationed in the area if need be.”

“There’s no need as of now. We will continue to await his response to our proposition of alliance.” Rhys stated as he looked at his mate with a smile. “He was considered a friend at one point.”

“And of course, Autumn,” Helion interjected. “Not only are we sure that Eris is preparing to usurp Beron, but while in the Autumn Court’s forest, Lucien said they had to escape his smokehounds.”

“I saw that in Sam’s memories, yes.”

“Best believe that Eris is aware of the breach of his boundaries, even if he is unaware of how it happened. Those hounds report back to him, much like your Spymaster’s shadows.”

Feyre turned to Lucien, “Do you think Eris will inquire?”

Lucien sighed heavily but nodded all the same. “Yes, he likely will. Eris will involve himself since it happened in his court. By law, this should be his or Beron’s issue to deal with.” Cassian and Azriel tensed at his wording, Rhys holding back a physical recoil. “As a born member of Autumn, I assumed responsibility for Sam the moment I touched her.”

“Does Autumn still have claim over her if you’ve brought her to Day?” Feyre asked worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. The last thing Prythian needed was a war between courts and the last thing she wanted was Sam held hostage in Autumn with the ruthless Vanserra family.

“It shouldn’t as I defected to Night and hold no allegiance to Autumn, blood or not,” Lucien replied, thinking over the laws. “If anything, the Day Court assumed responsibility when we walked through the palace doors and sheltered her. By all accounts, Day Court is now responsible for her.”

“Does you being both Day and Autumn hold any sway over the situation?” Rhys asked delicately, looking between Helion and Lucien carefully.

“No, as I am not publicly recognized as the heir of the Day Court throne. We would like to keep it that way for now.” Lucien responded. “It would cause more headache but if it came to that, Day Court would remain in control over the situation given that I severed ties with Autumn.”

Helion ran his finger over his lips, deep in thought. “And with the agreement that she goes to Night, you will assume the responsibility,” He motioned to Rhysand and Feyre. “To prevent a possible contest on all fronts, we must have paperwork drawn up that is legally binding between Day and Night, ensuring that it was done with the best interests of Sam at heart, her safety and life feared for, and her future in Prythian safe and assured as long as she remains.”

“We will draw up a contract tonight and it will be signed and notarized by tomorrow afternoon before Sam’s feet leave Day Court’s soil. We will grant her citizenship of the Night Court for however long she remains here so her rights as a Prythian citizen can not be infringed upon.” Azriel took that as Rhys’ queue to dissolve into his shadows and disappear to gather the proper paperwork. “In the meantime, I believe we will retire to our rooms.”

Helion smirked, always at odds between the fine line of High Lords and friends that he glided on. “By all means.”

Lucien remained behind with Helion who continued to sit at his desk, deep in thought. “You’re holding back something.”

Helion made a small noise of agreement. “I am but until I can be certain, I will not speak upon it.” He sipped from his glass of whiskey and set it gently on the top of the desk. “I do not doubt that they will train her in strength, fighting, and magic, I ask that you, personally, keep me updated on her progress.”

“She doesn’t have magic, there’s no magic in her world like it is here.”

“Are you certain?” Helion asked holding his gaze.

The responding silence was answer enough.

____________________________________________________________

Tag List: @smol-grandpa, @daughterofthemoons-stuff

[adelha-mathilde]

How Love Hurts (Obey Me!) fanfic

content: Simeon has some thoughts about life, love, and choices. Established relationships. Casual talking. Discussion of loss and death and regrets. Mention of war and death. Gonna mark as spoilers for reasons due to what happens to Simeon in late game.

The snow fell gently outside of the mountain mansion. A quiet peace for the occupants as Simeon sat in his bedroom. Luke had long fallen asleep next to Simeon to be curled up against him. So Simeon was content to sit and read a book by the firelight. Since the fireplace provided good light and warmth against the bitter chill outside.

This holiday trip to Germany had been planned by Lord Diavolo and Adelha for Lucifer to help. With Adelha's family offering their property in the mountains and extending invitations to join in the month long events their family held for Christmas. The Currier clan had been sure to prepare enough mansions and cabins for any who wished to attend the festivities. The past few weeks had been full of fun and frolic as much as challenges and some minor fights. Yet everyone was savoring this winter get away. Including the angels and humans of Purgatory Hall to be given the time to reflect and relax.

Simeon felt Luke shift closer as the blonde angel hugged him tighter. Which had Simeon smile sadly before he made sure the blanket around Luke was properly tucked in. Watching as Luke dreamed on to then feel his eyes burn. So Simeon wiped at his eyes with care to sigh heavily over his turning mood. Thoughts dwelling on all that had happened since the exchange program and what had come of himself. All the conflict and internal questioning. All the chaos and self doubts. It had Simeon ache in ways he didn't have it in him to voice for so very long. Yet his main reason to hold tight to who he used to be and all he wanted to be was right next to him. This sweet soul that was his ward and who loves him unconditionally.

Simeon felt tears fall for him to ruffle Luke's hair with one hand. His thoughts asking of him, "Is this how they felt for Lilith? Am I too late to keep Luke from getting hurt? Will he face that same choice we did so long ago and very recently? The last thing I want is for Luke to get hurt even more by my choices. Yet how does one avoid such?"

Simeon sighed to then turn his gaze when Adelha eased the bedroom door open. The Dragon Fae holding a tray of tea to slowly walk into the bedroom and set the tray close by. Words of gentle warmth given in the quiet. "It would seem someone has need for a warm drink and a long sit down. So I'm glad to provide. Simeon. May I stay a while and enjoy this moment?" Simeon nodded to then take the offered teacup to gingerly sip at the contents. The flavors washing over his tongue and spirit in turn for him to ease into the bedframe. Yet he did not speak right away. Letting his thoughts swirl before he speaks with a bit of rending ache to note, "I regret so many things. Yet I do not regret saving our darling lamb. If given the choice to take the Ring of Light for them again, I would do so. Every time. But I never wanted to hurt Luke by any choice I might make. He should not have to hurt because of my consequences."

Adelha nodded to then situate herself so she is sitting next to Simeon to hug him from the side and rest his head to her shoulder. Treating him like the younger soul as she played elder sister to him. "Alas. One can do everything perfectly and still lose. This existence will be unfair for any flawed being. The Almighty accepts us in our flaws and wants us to hold tight to His love. Even when we do things that are for good yet do much harm in the doing." Simeon flinched as if he'd been slapped in the face. Yet Adelha just held him to give them a moment. Yet Simeon sniffled to close his eyes as his words ripped up his throat and over his tongue. "I wish I had stood beside Lucifer. I wanted to protect him and all he loves. Yet I didn't do anything. I kept out of it all and stayed beside Father's gardens. I stayed in Father's presence. I was too conflicted to know what was right. Too many fledglings need someone to guide them and nurture them. I dedicated myself to that form of loving under Father's blessing. Now... I've abandoned them... I've failed them and Father in that..."

Simeon felt Adelha run her fingers through his hair to give a soft sigh of loving patience. Her words offered out of love. "No, Simeon. Such is not a burden you should take upon yourself. Our Father would never condemn you in such a way. You haven't failed anyone. Not the fledglings you cherish. Or the other angels. Not Luke. Not Raphael. Not our Father. Not me. Not anyone." Simeon felt a question he desperately wished to voice. One he'd agonized over for so very long. Yet it stuck in his chest like a dagger. But he was soon given an answer in Adelha's gentle words. "And especially not to Lucifer and his brothers. No matter what has come before or will come to pass. Lucifer still loves you. Mammon. Leviathan. Asmodeus. Beelzebub. Belphegor. They all still love you as they did from before. They will always love you as you are. You are still the same person. Someone who gives and loves and wants the best for those you treasure. Becoming human. Almost changing into a demon. Regaining your angelic existence. None of this changes who you are in spirit. Who you are at heart. This is you, Simeon. As such, Lucifer and Luke and all of us will continue to love you. For always."

The pure truth washes into that wound in Simeon's being for him to finally shatter. His whole frame shivering as he begins to cry. Turning into Adelha's embrace to sob and sniffle. Which has Luke rub at his eyes to wake up and meep in fear. But Luke soon just snuggles up close to join Adelha in holding Simeon tight as he cries. Letting Simeon cleanse out all the roaring emotions as a familiar human opens the door to see what is going on. Which has Adelha wave Solomon's apprentice over to join them in the snuggle pile. Only for one more to enter the room and silently sit at the foot of the bed and place a gloved hand to Simeon's leg. Yet Simeon is to upset to notice as he sobs and clutches at Adelha to keep him upright as his emotions pour free from his being. Until he has cried his eyes red and can barely make any noise. So Luke pours another cup of tea to help Simeon drink it. Only then does Simeon finally notice who is sitting at the foot of the bed. That someone being none other than Lucifer.

Simeon goes wide eyed to look shocked. Yet Adelha simply dabs at Simeon's face with a warm rag to look slightly amused. "Remember to breathe for us, Simeon. I have been having regular discussions with Lucifer in regards to your struggles. Including how I offered to extend you a place in my personal Fae clan. He wasn't very surprised I would offer to place the Mathilde clan mark on you and thereby claim you as family to protect you. But he has been letting slip more and more of how much he wants to be there for you. As he once was freely able to do so very long ago." Simeon blinks a few times to finally lean forwards. Taking Lucifer's hands to hold them tight and finally speak to one he never stopped loving as his brother. "I've spent all this time wishing I had stood with you. That I had done something... Anything... Lucifer... Brother... I am so sorry..."

Yet Lucifer didn't let Simeon continue. He simply sighed to lift Simeon's gaze and shake his head. The words of the Avatar of Pride full of strength and compassion in equal measures. "No. Simeon. You have done what you believed at the time was best. I will never hold that against you. Do not hold onto such pains. Let them go. Adelha is right to let us speak truth openly. I never stopped loving you, brother. This will never change. If you stay human, I will make a pact with you. If you become like me, I will take you into our family. If you return to the Celestial Realm, I will rest easy knowing the fledglings will flourish in your love. No matter what happens, I am proud of you."

Simeon goes rigid to look completely stunned. But soon, Lucifer gathers Simeon into his arms to hug him as his wings brush at Simeon's frame with gentle assurance. So Simeon closes his eyes to hug Luicfer back and let the moment cleanse away his regret. While Luke gets lifted into Adelha's lap for her to hold him and let him cry a little into her shoulder. Solomon's apprentice smiling as they soon got in on the hug with Lucifer and Simeon to declare they are all one big family of demons, angels, humans, and Fae. A moment of loving acceptance and good washing over the room as Raphael stands outside the room to guard the door and stay motionless. While Solomon watched from his room with his crystal ball. His phone out to let Michael listen to the whole thing as Solomon chuckled in rich amusement to then place a hand to his chin. "See? I told you that we would be able to handle things. My apprentice and Adelha make for a good combo against sorrow and regret. Hence why you have nothing to fret over. I can vouch for all the humans the Currier clan and Mathilde clan have claimed as their treasures. Those Fae see humans as equals and cherish all in their circle. So if Simeon does stay as a human and let's Adelha mark him with her claim, he will be given all the love and care possible." Michael gave a sigh of relief to soon hang up the phone. Leaving Solomon to his own musings before he rose to head for the library and restock on more books to read.

[fiendishfinesse]

[ slow dance ]

ⵌ 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖗 valentine’s inbox memes: accepting until Feb 12th. raphael x elizabeth // arranged marriage AU

The ballroom flickered with low light, reflecting in the polished marble floor, and in the emerald depths of Elizabeth Kraven’s eyes. She stood before him like something out of a fairy tale. A woman dressed in silk, bound to him by forces neither of them could undo. A pity, truly—he might have preferred to ruin her at his leisure rather than have her handed to him by fate’s cruel whim. But no matter.

Raphael extended his hand, and when she placed her own within his grasp, he drew her close. Closer than was proper, closer than was necessary. Her scent—something faintly floral—curled into his senses. Something delicate. Breakable. His grip tightened just enough to make her notice.

The orchestra swelled, strings trembling into a slow, aching waltz. He led her effortlessly, guiding her through each step with the grace of a devil who had danced for centuries. A century of waltzes, of whispered promises that had cost souls their eternity. And now, this one, in his arms, wrapped in a contract of blood rather than ink. A wife. The word sat foreign on his tongue, but he supposed it had a certain perverse appeal.

“Tell me, my dear,” he purred, his lips close enough to be uncomfortable. “Do you find this wretched arrangement unbearable? Or is there some part of you that enjoys the thought of belonging to me?”

That word again—belonging. Did she shudder at it? Did she resist it? Or did some deep, buried part of her wonder what it would mean to be truly his? 

He spun her then, the silk of her gown fanning out before he pulled her back, flush against his chest. His fingers pressed lightly into the small of her back, a reminder of the heat beneath his fine attire. A human would feel it as warmth, but she was not so human, was she? The fae in her blood would know better. It would know him for what he was.

What would you do, he wondered, if I let you feel all of me? If I let you taste the truth of what you have wed? Would she run? Or would she sink into it? Either way, exhilarating.

“Come now, you know I adore a confession.”

The music swayed, and so did they, lost in the slow rhythm of something neither of them had chosen—yet neither of them could ignore. And in that moment, he decided: If I must have you, then I will have all of you. In time.

[seraphseye]

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 may be high fae now , something different than what she had been born as in the mortal lands ⸻ down to the points of her ears , sharpened cheekbones , the ethereal glow of her very skin. but one part of her remains so painfully human : her  heart. elain doesn't ever foresee a future where such a thing changes , no matter how hard she might hope for it. there had once been a time where elain never thought she would heal from her wounds , from the rejection she'd faced from who was supposed to be the love of her mortal life. even so many years later , the words manage to play on a loop in her head ; you belong to him. i don't want it. take that ring off. i am not marrying you. not  you , never  you. she had blamed lucien then , as if he himself had forced her into this bond , had managed to sway fate itself. elain had never paused to consider that perhaps he had never wanted this just as much as she didn't , that he'd had his own wounds that felt as though they will never truly heal. the words do not leave such a gaping hole in her chest where a thriving heartbeat is , at it once did , but she fears she will die before she ever truly forgets the way graysen had looked at her as though she were a monster.

the space lucien had provided her with , despite her being cruel enough to barely acknowledge his existence , had been what she seemingly needed most. space away from the bond , space she needed in order to come to terms with this new life without having to worry about a mating bond on top of it all. he had not felt entitled to her time  or  her  heart , had not forced his way into her life as if it would provide some magical cure , and elain owes him more thanks for that than she will ever be able to convey with all the words and time in the world. even with those around her constantly urging her to just give him a shot , convincing her that he was a good male ⸻ something the middle archeron sister had never doubted in the slightest , though there had been fear there , initially. fear that if she allowed herself to see how much of a good person he was , that an already bruised heart would no longer be able to deny the pull , the ancient ache in her very soul that longs to be one with his. accepting the mating bond , accepting him , would mean accepting this new body and this new life , accepting  everything  that  had  been  taken  from  her.

for so long , that was not a reality she was ready to face. elain knows , now , that lucien should not have been hurt in her efforts to deny fate and destiny . . yet , she fears that if given the chance , she would not have changed her decision. it was only in his absence , when the bond had been reduced to nothing but a dull whisper in the breeze , that elain had been allowed to bloom once more. she is selfish , this she knows , though it is a statement that everyone else who sees her as something soft and fragile as porcelain would deny. perhaps lucien might be the first person to see her for what she truly is.

❝ i'd have to agree. motherhood makes her glow , ❞ though it should come as no surprise to her. feyre has been a caretaker since they'd allowed her to venture off into the woods to go hunting for the first time , to provide for them. it seems only natural for her , to elain , though she despises it. she's at least grateful that this is her son , not older sisters who should be capable of taking care of themselves ⸻ that she has a family , both chosen and through blood , that all adore and cherish nyx with all of their hearts , and that her and rhysand are bringing another babe into a family filled with so much love. there is perhaps some part of her that is envious , if only because if she were still mortal , she'd be cradling grandchildren at this point . . but if being made is the price she had to pay in order to be here , to be an aunt to feyre's children , to go on strolls through the city of velaris with her sisters and her nieces &. nephews yet to come , she  would  not  change  a  single  thing. elain still has all the time in the world to live before she settles down , before children of her own will make their way into the world , and such a thought does not sadden her the way it did not too long ago.

❝ while i have yet to visit them myself , i can't say i'm disappointed , either. from what i've heard , they are . . slow to accept change. nesta seemed disgusted enough by their customs to tell me all i need to know. i think training with the valkyries instead will be good for him , to learn the importance of strength not only physically , but mentally as well. and of course cassian and azriel will be there to make sure the girls aren't too hard on him. ❞ the thought alone is enough to cause a bout of warm laughter , soft and melodious enough that it might be some magical song in itself. elain does not flinch away when he reaches for her , nor does the smile at her lips dwindle. lucien is not someone she needs to fear , and something in her heart , even  beyond  the  mating  bond , knows that to be the truth. the reassurance is still something she needed , gaze flickering across his face as if searching for some underlying deceit in his words , any inkling that he might resent her as much as she feared he would for her harsh treatment all that time ago. but she finds none of that , his words genuine and true.

some part of her almost wants to bask in the closeness now , in the warmth that radiates from him , but he respectfully retreats from her space before she can consider such a thought for too long. ❝ i wouldn't want to pull you away from your celebration . . ❞ though her heart swells at his words , at the idea that he'd put so much thought into where she'd be staying ⸻ that he'd known the gardens would make her feel most at home , most  in  her  element. the near childlike excitement that flashes across her face is hard to contain despite her best efforts , ❝ but i must admit that i'm very interested in seeing the gardens , and the pegasuses. back in the mortal lands , they're rumored to be only a mythical creature , a fairytale. ❞

lucien has never truly known what fate would have of him, he would have chosen a nymph as free as the winds that carried her, he would have chosen a life lived far from his family. the youngest son, never to inherit, never to rule, never to bring notice with powers or gifts. but bit by bit, through blood and death - he had lost the things he’d chosen. the nymph at the hands of his brothers, a life in a neighboring court, a dwindling number of brothers until there are only the two. even his power as grown, the sun fonder of him now than he even realized. the gentle rays seem to follow him as he moves with elain, the woman fate has decided was to be his. but he’d never felt right with that, the demand that a cauldron had placed upon them, a tradition that neither would have chosen. he has had centuries now to mourn jessaminda, but she only decades. he never wished to press her, never wished to assume.

enduring the separation became easier as time went on, not from lack of desire — but simply forgetting what it felt like to not ache for her.

it was made simple by her one request, space. so space he had given. he’d traveled most of the known world around them, he’d gone from sea to sea and across it a few times. sometimes he even went back to the autumn court, eris now to rule it — their mother safely installed where no harm will ever befall her again. sometimes he even retreated to the spring court, to walk the forests he’d spent decades with. but not matter the affection he bore the places or the high lords, he was never at home as he had once been. until he was claimed, by his father, the man who he has known only as a solar court lord for so many years — to now reside here. to one day, to become its own leader. though he does not relish the thought, to lose a father when one has only just found him. but the day court, for all it’s vague discomfort of being in the spotlight — he’d found it was suitable to rest there. the dwindling of himself unnoticed by those who had not known him for long. the magic making him thrive, but his spirit lessening in the great distance between him and the woman fate chose.

but lucien knew the difference between what gods and fate would decree, and what mortal hearts would choose. and he would be chosen. he would be — desired. not endured. he did not know how she had faired, he hoped well. he hoped that in the time and space between them, she had thrived like the blooms she tended in her gardens. flowers - he’d discovered, always made him think of her. no matter the kind, no matter the color, something about the strength of the seemingly fragile things to burst from hardened soil and demand to live. to turn their faces to the sun and soak it up, to take the torrents of rain and anchor their roots deep to withstand and flourish. for all the things he has thought about elain archeron, never has he thought less of her for the rejection of the decreed bond between them.

he’s dressed simply, the natural tones he favors but the styling of the day court. his hair not straight as it had once been, but locc’d and adorned with golden cuffs and jeweled beads, with sparkling threads of autumn colors winding their way through his dark auburn twists. there is light in his eye that had not been there before, a beauty in his features as the sun casts them in it’s warm glow, the smile easy even as she pulls her hand away. he will not be upset by such action, it is enough that she has come. even as emissary - to know that the one thing his mate has asked of him, space, he was able to give her. enough that now - she comes here voluntarily to celebrate with him.

‘ please, there’s no need to apologize. after nyx’s birth i can hardly blame them for staying close to home. i’m surprised they waited this long for another in truth - motherhood seems to suit feyre. she sounds well in her letters. azriel informs me of nyx’s progress, i cannot say i’m disappointed that he’s declined illyrian camps in lieu of training with the valkyries. my brief time in the illyrian mountains left me .. unsettled. they are slow to change, but enough of politics — ‘ a blush to steal across golden skin, how easily he slips back into the mindset of a diplomat. to plan out and think of the connections between simple events and places and people - to speak on them in a way to guide ones thoughts to his own point of view. but elain is the diplomat between them now, and he the heir of this court. a court with its own machinations and schemes.

there is a flash of concern as he senses that flicker of apprehension, he reaches again — clasping her hands in his, meeting her gaze unwavering — there is no doubt of his genuine meaning as he speaks.

‘ elain — you are always welcome, not merely as emissary of a fellow solar court, but as a friend. while i know i have been much absent these past years — please know i have never felt anything but warmth towards you and your family. that you came to celebrate with us — it means more than i possess words to express. but please, if you are made uncomfortable by anything — do not hesitate to bring it to our attention. either i or — my father — will be glad to offer whatever remedies we can. ‘

a reassuring squeeze of her hands before he steps back, realizing perhaps he has crowded her space. a pause before —

‘ would you like to see your room? when feyre wrote of you coming — i thought perhaps you’d like the room nearest the gardens? the views in the evening are particularly beautiful. they’re .. less formal than other courts, but they’re beautiful. and the pegasus like to settle in them for the evening when they’re not hiding out in the stables. ‘

[mardereads19]

Elriel Month 🌸🦇

Day 22:

“Hello,” Elain said as she opened the door. She reined in the urge to avert her gaze and furrow her brows, but she did not make her voice sound as friendly as she should have.

Lucien cleared his throat. “Hello.” His eyes had widened when she had been the one to open the door instead of her sister or a servant, but he had recovered quickly. Now he looked as unruffled as if he had always known it’d be Elain he’d been meeting here.

“Every person has give aways of emotions. Tells that reveal what they are feeling —if they’re lying, what their weakness is, and if they are about to attack,” Azriel had said to her during training a few days ago. “Your assignment for tomorrow is that you find give aways in the people you encounter today.”

“Do all of the tells mean the same thing in everyone? Does biting the lower lip, for instance, mean nervousness in everyone or is it an individual thing?” Elain had asked.

Azriel had smiled at her with approval shinning in his eyes. “That’s a very good question. Tells are individual. What might represent nervousness in you, might represent anger in someone else.”

“How will I know what the give away to the people I see mean for them individually?”

“You get better at that with practice. But for tomorrow you only need to note the tells, not what they may mean. Look out for tapping fingers, for roaming eyes, for biting a lip —anything that might reveal emotions.”

And Elain had gotten so good at it that she noticed Lucien’s quick twitch of his fingers. She was willing to bet he felt nervous, perhaps self-conscious, underneath the calm, collected air he was trying to pull-off.

Good, she could almost hear Azriel’s voice whisper in her ear. She held back a smile and opened the door wider, the heat of the mid-day sun hitting her with the warm breeze. Today was a hot day. “Come in.”

Lucien hesitated —another tell— before stepping inside the river house’s foyer. Once she had closed the door behind him, she let herself study him.

Even though Elain was not fond of being in the same room as him, or that this male was her cauldron-given mate, she could not deny he always looked pristine. Even with the heat, Lucien wore a white dress shirt with a pine-green vest and pants. The color brought out the red of his hair —which was elegantly tied at the nape of his neck— and the gold of his eye. She also thought that the scar across his other —metal— eye that others found gruesome and grotesque, made him even more handsome. Nothing like an imperfection to highlight the beauty.

He shifted on his feet and Elain almost asked him what made him so uncomfortable, except she already knew. She felt it, too. “Where are Feyre and Rhysand?”

Elain tilted her head. “Desperate to get away from my presence?”

Lucien whirled towards her, her tone that had been full of disdain, his eyes widening once more. “No, that’s not what I—” He frowned with worry before adding, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She focused on his real eye, the one that would reveal his emotions, and found sincerity in his gaze. She nodded once. “Feyre and Rhys are gone on Court business, but they asked me to receive you.”

Feyre knew damn well what she had been doing when she left Elain at the river house with the task of receiving Lucien. She and Rhys had both urgently needed to visit the Hewn City to present Nyx and remind the Court of Nightmares who held the reins of their small kingdom. Apparently, the job could not wait one more day.

Lucien inclined his head in a nod. “How is the baby?”

Elain let her lips twist up in a genuine smile, the image of her small nephew coming up into her mind. “He’s healthy, thank the Cauldron.”

Lucien nodded, again. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Nyx had been a blessing. Having him here took her mind off of distracting thoughts. Taking care of him focused her —that is, until she studied his wings and her mind drifted off to another male with wings like that.

Elain shook her head to dispel the image of Azriel. She had to focus on the task at hand, of listening to her mate.

But as Lucien began to update Elain on the Spring Court’s and Tamlin’s current state, she couldn’t stop her mind from drifting off, again.

Mate. This male before her was her mate. What did that mean? Why did that matter? Elain knew the answers to those questions according to the Fae, but the answers were not the same to her. Now you are Fae, too, you know? she reminded herself. Yet as much as she tried to assimilate to their culture, their lifestyle, it was seemingly impossible.

“Reaching complete silence is imposible. It’s even harder here, in Prythian, to achieve stealth. The sharp hearing is an obstacle you must learn to overcome.” Azriel’s voice from one of their initial training sessions rang in her head.

“If it’s impossible, how do you do it? How do the Wraiths do it?”

Azriel had smiled. “The Wraiths are more silent than me —impressive, I know— but they are half shadows themselves.”

Elain had chuckled and raised her brows. “I hadn’t noticed any difference between your levels of stealth.”

Azriel had dipped his chin. “Well, I did train them regardless. Just how I am training you.” And the look he’d given her had made her shift on her feet. Azriel noted the tell and she’d gone still again.

“As I said, complete silence is imposible, but if the sound could be reduced enough to almost imperceivable, it will seem completely quiet. Let’s begin with your footwork.”

Elain slammed back to reality when Lucien mentioned Koschei. And she blinked a few times to remember she was in the river house foyer and not in the ceiling or garden training with—

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Lucien frowned slightly before saying, “Vassa doesn’t have much time here, before Koschei pulls on her reins. What is Feyre and Rhysand’s plan to find his location?” His eye held a shine and Elain could have sworn she saw fire dancing in his golden iris. His voice had also taken on a fierceness that Elain couldn’t help but admire.

“I don’t know the specifics of it, but Rhysand and Feyre have been trying to find a safe way to visit his lake.” Elain hesitated for a second, not knowing if this information was clear to share or not, but Lucien was their ally, and he was friends with Vassa, who might be the best source of intel they had at the moment. “Azriel and Cassian had an encounter with the death god at his lake already and it did not end well.”

“Bryallin had the crown, that’s how she had controlled Cassian,” Rhys had said in one of their meetings with the Inner Circle. Elain had been walking past the door in the hallway, but she had stopped and listened.

Azriel had spoken next, the sound of his voice making her heart skip. “My shadows warned me to run from there, Rhys. Even if Koschei had no controlling powers, those he does have are dangerous. I’m still not sure how Elain’s —and Feyre and Nesta’s— father could strike a deal with him.”

“Koschei also said he had been preparing for us or some other shit like that,” Cassian added. “I’m not sure if it’s wise to return there without learning more, finding a weakness or something.”

“We know he wants Vassa back,” Amren suggested.

Feyre spoke up, “We are not going to use Vassa as a bargaining ship, Amren.”

“I also don’t think Vassa could guarantee our safety.” Rhys’s comment was followed by a short silence.

A shadow had flowed out through the open door and glanced —or what Elain would interpret as a glance from a shadow— at her before quietly making its way back to Azriel. Elain had taken a step closer to the gap and looked inside the study to see it lift to his ear. The shadowsinger did not glance towards the door, but she saw him smile. Her heart ached with the sudden need to touch those slightly twisted lips.

“We’d be fools to try to taunt Koschei with Vassa, who is still enslaved to him. We need something else, something he wouldn’t venture to hurt us for. Something he wants or, as Cassian said, something that’s his weakness.”

Elain looked up at Lucien now. “Do you think Queen Vassa would agree to meet with Rhysand and Feyre? Now that Azriel and Cassian saw Koschei and his lake themselves, they might understand better any instruction Vassa gives. We need all the help we can get.”

Lucien began nodding even before she had finished her question, his eye filling with hope —for the human queen, Elain noted. “Anything you need, Vassa will be happy to provide as long as she knows about it or if she’s not enchanted against speaking of.”

“Enchanted?”

Lucien’s brow furrowed. “Sometimes Vassa finds it difficult to speak of certain things. She’d be speaking one moment and the next second she’d forget what she was about to say. She never understands it, but my eye,” he gestured to his metal eye, “picks spells up.” His gold eye darkened. “Koschei won’t let her speak of some things, I’m guessing they are vital to learning how to defeat him.”

Elain dipped her chin and tucked away the information for later, when she got to tell her sister and her mate what Lucien told Elain.

The male before her said a few things more regarding the human territory —Elain placing on her face the most neutral mask she could muster, Azriel’s impassive face as her guideline— before bidding her goodbye.

Elain was accompanying him to the door when she realized she should have had invited him into a parlor and offered tea or anything. He was outside before she could apologize, but he turned to her abruptly, like he had been fighting an impulse that won out in the end. Elain just blinked at him, waiting.

“I—” His face flushed. “It was nice seeing you.”

Elain bowed her head and told herself being polite was not the same thing as accepting their fated bond. “As was seeing you.”

Lucien opened his mouth like he might say more, but then he closed it and bowed. He turned swiftly and walked away from the estate.

Elain watched him go, wondering if she would have felt something for him if she had met him differently. He was noble, that much was true for her. But there was no spark of joy in her heart when she saw him. Instead, she couldn’t help but feeling disdain at being around him. It had more to do with the stupid mating bond than it did him. More to do with how everyone expected them to get together at one point or another. More to do with the fact that it was not up to her to decide. The mating bond with Lucien felt like she had no choice.

But if she had met him differently?

Hazel eyes flashed in her mind. A scarred hand extending towards her before guiding her to the garden. Wings sunning as she drank tea and plotted out in her head the next section of the terrain.

Elain shut the door, a sad smile appearing on her face. It would not have mattered if Lucien and Elain had met differently. She had met Azriel first, and it had been born out of him being with the good side. Him wanting to help the humans who had no way of defending themselves.

He had been the one to listen to her when her visions had her speaking in code. It had been him who had assured everyone she was not crazy, but special. That she was not lacking anything, but had gained something.

Elain had tried to ignore it, but this meeting with her mate, where she had not been able to push away memories of moments spent with Azriel from her mind... She could not deny it any longer.

Her feelings for Azriel were like weeds in her heart. The more she tried to cut them, the more they grew and spread. She was so far gone that not even a conversation with Lucien could stop her from thinking about her shadowsinger.

She was buried underneath it. The ivy of her emotions for him. The ivy of him.

It kept on growing.

[belle-reads]

Review Time!!

✨This is your minor Spoiler Warning✨

I’m excited to review this book because it is my absolute favourite in the series. A Court of Mist and Fury is a continuation of Feyre’s story; they’ve survived Amarantha's clutches and are now back at the Spring Court. She now has the powers of the High Fae, but her heart still remains human, and it can't forget everything she did to save Tamlin and his people. She also hasn’t forgotten her bargain with Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. There are LOTS of new characters in this book, but I’ll discuss the three most important ones for now. 

———

I don't really know what to say in order to adequately express how stunning A Court of Mist and Fury is. I cannot find the words to describe how it truly made me feel; this book resonates with my heart and my soul so wonderfully, it just filled me with awe. This book is a story about life and love and everything in between.

———

Feyre, darling, I am so proud of you. This character has grown so much, has been through hell and back. She struggles but then uses her experiences to make her even stronger. The events in the previous book completely tore her apart, and so during this book we see her slowly piece herself together. My heart ached for her. But by the end she finds herself again -- her true self, and I absolutely loved it. 

——— 

Tamlin, well, this book just made me dislike him even more. Yes, everything he does, he does out of love and of fear of losing Feyre. And we all know that people blinded by love can make mistakes, and my Gods did he make mistakes. His complete lack of understanding for Feyre’s struggles consumed him and turned him into a completely toxic and controlling man; we do not accept this type of behaviour. At all. This adds to Feyre’s struggles and Tamlin’s worst fear becomes reality - she leaves.

———

Rhys embodies the HIGHEST standards for fictional males. The bad-boy allure, arrogance, elegance etc.  And don’t get me started on his internal beauty - the selflessness, kindness, his nerve-wrecking intensity etc. And my God his past? Brought me to my knees I was an emotional wreck. He’s protective, about Feyre, the Night Court, and his Inner Circle (squad goals). Plus Rhys is basically the hottest fictional guy ever created, so, theres that.

———

Feyre and Rhys story just blossoms in this book and I am absolutely here for it. I cannot stress this enough, they will become your favourite book couple ever. The love Rhys has for Feyre, and the Love she develops for Rhys, is unmatched. I can’t actually put it into words. Mates. They’re perfect.

———

If I could read one book for the first time again, it would be this one. I am so in love with the characters and story line I can’t get enough of it. If you choose to read it, or have read it already, I hope you love/Loved it as much as I did. 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 

🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️/5

Follow my insta: @biblio.belles for more 

[imaginedhaven]

Rules of Engagement: Chapter Seven

Link to Masterpost

The new laptop is here and working so much better than the old one did! I don’t know how I hadn’t replaced it sooner, with the exception of the fact that I am an utter cheapskate lol.

But enough about me, I know what y’all came here for. ;)

~*~*~

Aelin woke up surrounded by a comforting warmth and burrowed into the feeling with a happy little moan. She hadn’t remembered her bedroll being this comfortable, but she was grateful for it nonetheless. The scent of pine and snow lingered in the air, meaning that while they had departed for Adarlan they hadn’t yet reached the border, and as her eyes fluttered open a pale shirt came into sight—

Wait. A shirt. She wasn’t alone.

She bolted upright, grimacing as her head and her muscles responded to the motion with a fierce ache.

A dry voice sounded above her, though amusement was woven into the soft lilting accent. “I see you’ve finally decided to grace the waking world with an appearance.” Gods, what had happened, that she felt so awful and that Rowan had stayed with her rather than return to his own bedroll across the campsite?

As memory came rushing back in, she let out a soft whimper. She had trained again, and lost herself to the fire that burned inside of her. A fire that was currently mere embers, an internal look revealed. “Are you mocking me?” she asked, trying for a lighthearted tone but sounding raspy and exhausted even to her own ears. “I feel as if you’re mocking me.”

Green eyes met hers, obviously examining her face, though a part of him seemed distracted and hidden away. “And if I am?”

Aelin attempted to stretch, hissing at the lingering pain running through her. “I may have to let you get away with it, today. I probably deserve worse.”

“Let this pain be a lesson for you,” he replied, “though I wish you didn’t have to experience it. When you lose control like that, when the magic owns you rather than you using the magic, it’s all too easy to burn out. You almost went far enough that we couldn’t have brought you back.”

“How long was I asleep?” she asked.

“Six hours. It’s only a little after dawn now.” As she watched, he looked around the campsite. Aedion was packing his and Lysandra’s things, casting occasional concerned glances in their direction, but thus far he remained silent.

“You sound distracted,” she commented. “What’s on your mind? I know you promised a lecture—”

“Maybe later,” he said quietly, as though he were much farther away than he actually was. “We’re not likely to make it to the next town on time, not with you as badly off as you are. I’m doing what I can to make sure we won’t be defenseless.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. She turned to face him properly, though she couldn’t yet bear to completely move away, so they were left with her legs tucked neatly against his.

“How does it feel,” he asked instead, “when you access your power? Where is it stored?”

Aelin frowned and cast her gaze inwards once more. “Like… a well,” she replied. “Like it’s all sitting in a well, or it would be, if I hadn’t…”

Rowan nodded. “The depth of that well is what differs between magic users, in addition to the actual contents. Some have very little magic, and can access most of their power at once. No matter what you’re thinking now, yours goes deeper. You’re drained now because your magic controlled you, and you didn’t—couldn’t—take the time to access it correctly, to pull it up from that well one piece at a time.”

“That’s what you’re doing now, isn’t it?” she realized.

Another nod, this one more absent. “You’ll take several days at least to be back to full strength. One of us needs to be ready to react if necessary. I can still do other things, but… a piece of me is there, drawing it up.”

“How long will it take?” she asked, curious.

She was met with a raised eyebrow. “That depends on the strength of the magic user,” he said.

“That’s not an answer.”

He chuckled, then, and a thrill went through her at the sound. It had taken weeks, but she had finally managed to coax an actual laugh out of the stoic warrior. “Some take hours. I take a full day. 

So his magic was as powerful as the rest of him. Of course it was. Aelin still had questions, though. “And when it runs out, I presume that only time will allow it to come back?”

“Correct, for the most part,” he replied. “The only other way is to take from your carranam using a blood connection, if you’re lucky enough to have found yours.”

“Carranam?” she repeated, something in her uncoiling in pleasure at the way the Old Language word felt to speak.

“It’s a rare bond, and most never find one. Just like mating bonds, only carranam are compatible magically rather than…” The sentence trailed off, but she understood well enough where it had been going to nod in reply. “It’s a risky move, though, and one that requires a great deal of trust. It’s easy for your carranam to take too much from you, and then you have two magic users burning out instead of one. Even if someone suspects, they’re more likely than not to never test the bond.”

If burning out felt anything like what Aelin was going through, she understood entirely, and said as much. “Did you ever find someone you trusted enough?” she asked.

Rowan shook his head. “I haven’t suspected such a bond in any of the people I usually work with. We work well enough together, but working well together has little to do with magical compatibility in that regard.”

Aelin hummed her understanding and moved to stand, only to have a large tattooed hand come down on her shoulder. “Don’t we have to move soon?” she demanded as Rowan stood instead.

“Ideally, yes,” he replied, “but you would’ve simply fallen down again had I let you stand unaided.”

Aelin groaned. Stupid overprotective hovering Fae males and their territorial protective instincts. Really, it was a wonder Aedion was managing to pack up the camp and not directly offering her assistance as well. Perhaps Lysandra had something to do with it, or perhaps he and Rowan had come to some kind of understanding in the night.

Still, she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. Ordinarily, she would’ve argued her point further, but given the tremble she felt in her knees she grudgingly had to admit Rowan had a point.

~*~*~

As night began to fall around them once more, Aedion bit back a soft growl. They still had several miles to go before the next town, but now that night had fallen their odds of booking a room were slim at best. They could push further and exhaust Aelin even more than she already had been, but in all likelihood even if they did that they would still be spending a night among the trees and stars.

They had been traveling along the edge of the Oakwald Forest, though the way was slightly longer than sticking to the coast. While the Regent would likely have preferred the coastal route, Aedion knew these lands better than he knew the coastline and would be able to take them from town to town on their way down to Rifthold. Aelin had been thrilled at the prospect of camping, and Lysandra had simply been glad to get away from the palace for a little while.

At the thought of her, he looked to the head of their party where a ghost leopard was bounding along beside a white-tailed hawk. While she would never have said as much to Aelin, she had admitted to him on occasion that she grew tired of being within the palace walls. While it had been easy to bring her along in the role of Aelin’s stylist and handmaiden, the role she had assumed when Aelin had first brought her to the palace a little over two years prior, Aedion realized he would’ve fought to bring her along anyway.

She would never mention the looks she got around the palace, both as a shapeshifter and as someone who had once worked out of the alleyways in the city, but Aedion noticed them. It took more restraint than he cared to admit to let her handle the situation as she saw fit, but he knew attempting to fight her battles for her would only result in something large, fanged, and clawed visiting him in the night. It had already happened on more than one occasion, and waking up to a ghost leopard or a massive bear standing over him was not an experience he cared to repeat.

And so he bit his tongue and he exercised all of the control he had learned from Aelin’s father, and he let his mate fight her own battles because he knew she wouldn’t have it any other way. It didn’t sit quite right with his instincts, but those instincts hadn’t been fine-tuned to human mates. Her happiness was worth more than his pride, and it had been from the moment he’d seen her.

Aelin hissed in her saddle, one hand going to her side, and the hawk immediately flew back to her side before Whitethorn shifted back into his Fae form. She moved to wave him off, but accepted the chunk of bread he pulled out of a bag and shoved at her.

That had been a surprise, Aedion thought with a smile as he watched his cousin accept being fussed over for what was probably the first time in her life. Ordinarily he would’ve tried, and they would’ve likely scrapped about it, but as he watched he realized that the older warrior fussing over her instead felt… right, somehow.

As they came to a stop for the night, the ghost leopard approached him and morphed back into the face Lysandra usually wore. “So tell me,” she said as she tucked a chestnut curl behind an ear “is there a reason you’re not over there growling at Rowan for existing too close to her?”

Aedion shook his head with a smile. “It doesn’t work like that,” he insisted. “She’s my cousin. He’s more than capable of making her eat, and she may be my family but she’s not mine.” Not like you are, he let himself think, though he knew it would be dangerous to say aloud.

Her eyes lit up. “Wait, do you think…?” She stopped talking and he knew it was so the others wouldn’t hear her, though her gestures made clear what she was asking.

He allowed himself to glance over at his cousin and her trainer once again, this time taking in the hand she had placed on his shoulder and that he hadn’t removed. He watched the way she laughed and then grimaced, and the way he helped her sit against a tree and growled something he couldn’t quite hear, concern clear across his features.

“I’m not sure,” he finally said, “but whatever’s going on, he’s managing her better than anyone ever has. I’m not about to get in the way of that.”

Indeed, he had a feeling that anyone who ventured too close right now would meet an unpleasant fate. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Lysandra’s waist and smiled when she allowed him to pull her in close.

A soft hissing sound from the edge of the forest immediately set him on edge, and as he narrowed his eyes and focused on the spaces between the trees he froze.

They were not alone.

A quick look to Whitethorn confirmed that he had heard it as well, and soon the warrior was hauling Aelin away from the trees and closer to them so they could survey the threat together. “I’m not familiar with the creatures that haunt your lands,” he admitted. “What can you see?”

“It’s strange,” Aedion replied, gaze fixed on the long limbs he could see moving in the trees. “If we were closer to the mountains I would say these are Stygian spiders, but they don’t usually come this far—”

One of the creatures finally broke through the treeline, and Aedion cut himself off as he saw the horse-sized spider emerge, a cruel gleam in its eyes.

~*~*~

It didn’t take centuries of military experience to know they were outmatched, Rowan realized as he watched the threat unfold before them. If his count was correct, a dozen of the spiders were waiting in the line where the trees began to grow thin, and there were only four of them. Aedion was a warrior through and through, senses enhanced by his Fae heritage. He wasn’t certain of the shifter’s abilities, but from the way she held herself he could tell she would go down fighting rather than running. The problem was Aelin, and it didn’t take long to realize that at all.

Aelin was standing beside him unaided, but a hand still pressed against her side and pain was still strong in her expression. He had done his best to make sure she was cared for on their journey, but it had only been a day since she had almost burned herself out. It would likely be another two before she was feeling anything close to normal again, and it would be dangerous for her to draw on her own power.

He had pulled up most of his own magic at this point, but he was only one warrior, and he wasn’t certain of this enemy’s weaknesses. With that in mind, he turned back to Aedion. “Assuming you’re correct,” he said, quick and quiet, “what do you know about these creatures?”

“If I’m right, most of what I know is wrong,” the warrior replied as he quickly bound back his golden hair. “Stygian spiders don’t usually venture outside the mountains. They stay there, and barter their silk to those foolish enough to bargain away years of their life, or other intangible gifts.”

Magical creatures, then, and creatures that lived at a high altitude. It was unlikely efforts to choke the air away from them would be met with any amount of success. Ice and blades it would have to be. “Somehow, I don’t think these are here to bargain,” he said.

“I think you’re right,” Aedion agreed, and then the first spider was upon them, pincers snapping. A blast of frigid wind knocked it back, but Rowan could tell that the setback would only be temporary at best. These creatures were fast, faster than they had a right to be, and winds would only delay them and drain him.

A glance at the hardened shells of the creatures told him ice would be equally ineffective. He could trap them, certainly, but they would inevitably get free, and he couldn’t be certain they wouldn’t track him or anyone else in the group. 

He spared a moment to glance to his left, toward Aedion and his mate. The shapeshifter was obviously sizing up the threat, likely trying to decide the form that would deal the most damage to these creatures. He hoped for her sake that she settled on something with reach and sharp fangs or claws. Aedion himself had drawn a sword and positioned himself between the creatures and the shifter, though that would only last for so long against so many.

To his right, Aelin grasped for a knife, hissing slightly as her fingers wrapped around the hilt. He could tell the movement hurt her far more than he was letting on, but that she would fight to her last as well. Her movements, however, were slow and clumsy. For her sake, they needed to end this as quickly as possible, and that meant testing something he had come to suspect.

To Aedion, he said quietly, “We need to draw these things out of the trees.”

“Does that mean you have a plan?” came the reply.

Rowan nodded. “Our best chance is ending this as quickly as possible. That means drawing them out into the open so that we can deal with them.”

“It’s the ‘dealing with them’ aspect I was hoping you had a plan for,” Aedion quipped.

Rowan growled and grabbed Aelin around the waist. “I have a plan, but we need to be ready regardless. The shell looks like it has weak points in the underbelly and around the eyes, if all else fails, but if I’m right we won’t need to fight with blades tonight.”

Aelin glared up at him, but Rowan ignored her as he moved them back several paces. Aedion and the shifter followed, and as he’d expected the spiders continued to draw closer. An intelligent foe with their numbers would try to surround them, and he had seen the cold calculations in the first spider’s eyes. He was counting on them drawing closer, or else this last hope of a plan would certainly fail.

Once they had retreated a safe distance from the forest, he turned his focus back to Aelin. She had drawn two daggers now, but her hands were trembling enough that he suspected they would be largely useless.

Rowan took a deep breath as the dozen spiders he had spotted finally emerged, and as the shifter took on her preferred feline form and Aedion lifted his sword he turned to Aelin, one hand going to her chin and tilting her head so that she was looking at him as well. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

“I already don’t like where this is going,” she replied easily, though he could read the truth in her eyes at this distance. Just one more reason to suspect he was correct, and that this would work.

“If this works,” he said as he turned his attention back to the advancing creatures, “one blast. Surround them. Do your best to avoid the trees if you can. Work fast and burn hot.”

“I thought you told me not to touch my magic,” she frowned.

“I still don’t want you to touch your magic,” he agreed as he took one of her knives from her.

Aelin was now seething beside him, likely because of his theft of her weapon. “I’m going to need that,” she pointed out.

“You are. But I’m going to need it first.”

He looked back at her, her face flushed with anger, and held her gaze as he drew the knife across his own palm. As he handed it back to her so that she could do the same, he took a moment to send a desperate prayer to whichever god may be listening that he wasn’t about to get them all killed.

~*~*~

Aelin looked up at Rowan, eyes wide, as he handed her knife back to her. “You think…?”

“We can discuss this later,” he growled, pine-green eyes back to tracking the threat that surrounded them. “We need to deal with this now, while we still can.”

That was true enough, she supposed. With a hiss, she cut a shallow slice into her own palm, mirroring him. “A blood connection, right?” she asked.

He nodded, and extended his hand toward her. “One blast. Take what you need, but end it quickly.”

“It’ll be my fire that comes? Not your gifts?” she asked.

He glared back at her. Would I be doing this if it wasn’t your fire you’d be wielding? he seemed to ask. If I thought my own magic would be effective against these, I’d be using it myself.

“Fair enough, I suppose,” she said, and then their palms met and Aelin gasped as a whirlwind of ice and snow slammed into her.

From what he had said earlier, she had known he was a powerful magic user as well as a skilled fighter. She hadn’t realized the depth of his power, however, not fully at least. The blizzard swirled inside her, ancient and fierce, scented like the wintry pine forests she called home. The cold winds strengthened the embers of her own magic, stoking them back into flames, and she grinned. “One shot, you said?”

He nodded. “Make it count.”

Making sure to keep a hold of his hand, Aelin led them a few more steps back. These spider-like creatures were still too close to the trees, and she risked starting a larger blaze if she attacked now.

Rowan followed her movements, lacing their fingers together so they could maintain the connection. As the spiders drew nearer, she finally judged them to be near enough to make her move.

She didn’t quite listen to Rowan. Instead, she drew a small amount of his power to create a ring of fire around the creatures, ensuring they would be unable to move. The spiders shrieked and hissed, and she grinned. “It would appear you were right,” she said quietly. “They don’t seem to like fire at all.”

“If I wanted your opinion, I would ask for it,” he snapped. “Finish it.”

Aelin focused her attention back on the ring of fire, and within moments it was burning white-hot and tall. Within moments the screaming and hissing grew in volume and then stopped altogether.

Once the only sounds in the air were the crackling of the flames, she and Rowan both carefully released their grip on each other’s hands, and immediately she felt the loss of that powerful ice storm that had swirled in her so briefly and yet so profoundly. Instead, the pain she had come to know throughout the course of the day surged back in, and she winced and curled her arms against her midsection. The fire died faster than she had expected, and as she glanced to her left and saw the sweat on Rowan’s brow she realized he was working to extinguish the flames. Once they were low enough, Aedion moved to approach the bodies of the creatures, but Rowan called out to him. “Don’t,” he said as he continued to work. “There’s not going to be enough air for you to breathe, not yet.”

Gods, he could remove the air from that large an area, even after she had taken some of his power to create that fire? Aelin eyed him with a newfound appreciation of his mastery of his gifts, even as her knees began to shake from the exertion of the day.

Finally Rowan nodded to Aedion, and judging from the sounds her cousin moved in to ensure the spiders remained dead. Aelin’s eyes, however, remained on the Fae warrior as he stalked back toward her. “We should push for that town if you think we can make it,” he said quietly. “Even if we’re just camped on the outskirts, it’ll be safer than staying here.”

So he wasn’t going to address what had just passed between them, then. Rather than confront him just yet, though, she nodded. “We can move out once Aedion finishes… whatever he’s doing.” She wasn’t quite sure yet how she was going to manage, but she knew he was absolutely correct that they couldn’t remain.

A cool breeze blew across the back of her neck and she shivered, glaring at her companion—her carranam, she realized. “How are you still doing that?” she demanded. “I thought—”

“I have several more centuries’ experience than you managing my own magic,” he replied smoothly. “And I began this with my power largely untapped, whereas you had almost nothing left. Now, are we going to debate this or are we going to move?”

She gave him a look that she hoped said we are talking about this later and moved back to where the horses were tethered. They were still eyeing the dead spiders nervously, but it was easy enough to calm her own mount enough that she felt she would be able to ride. That was, assuming she could lift herself onto it in the first place.

A pair of hands rested themselves on her hips, but before she could turn or say anything in protest Rowan was already lifting her so she could settle astride the horse. When she did manage to glare down at him, he shrugged easily. You were taking too long, he seemed to say. Was it this link between them that was allowing her to interpret his gestures so easily? She would have to ask him later, when he finally deemed it safe enough to discuss.

His hands left her then, though she was left with an imprint of their warmth on her as though a piece of her fire now resided in him as surely as the memory of his wind and ice now resided in her. She wondered how long that imprint on her magic and her soul would last, whether it would just be a few days longer or whether she would still be feeling him when he inevitably sailed across the sea and back to the queen to whom he had promised his service.

It was strange, she realized, just how quickly the tides had turned. When he had first arrived she would have loved nothing more than to send him straight back, but now…

Now she had no idea what she would do when he left, never to be seen again.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09

[guessmonsta]

In The Woods Somewhere (Fae! Akaashi x Fem! Reader) (NSFW)

Hi cuties :’) Do I even need to apologize for being inactive at this point? Lmao. I’ll never return to my peak in 2016/2017, haha. Anyway, this was a request from my friend that I realized I never posted. Oops. I hope u like it I luv yall sm!!!!

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The first time she saw him it was May. Dewdrops danced on Silver Dollars and Lamb’s-ear, and Jasmine and Lily of the Valley were braided into her hair. She spent her days in May collecting flowers and herbs for her mother, ever since spring came, her mother had been bedridden, and worrying __ mad. She knew the herbs would help substantially, but she also knew the roses and carnations would heal a different side of her mother. On her way down to the carnation field just beyond the woods that swallowed her quaint little property, she saw him. She knew who he was, rather what he was before she had the opportunity to approach him. If she hadn’t the knowledge very little would have kept her from running to him. Her mother always warned her of his kind, they were dangerous, they would rip out your womb and starve you of food- but the way his gunmetal eyes stared into hers the moment he noticed her walk past him was enough to have her in his trance. He sat inside a faerie ring, several small birds clung to his sides, and a Barn Owl perched on his arm. If it weren’t for her mother on her mind, perhaps she would have been bolder- instead, she just broke a moment of eye contact and walked right past him, choosing to ignore his existence, and he ignored hers. 

The second time she saw him, she wasn’t so timid. Spore prints were her intention that day, or at least that’s what she told her mother, and while toadstools grew at random in the clearing in her backyard, she couldn’t help but be attracted to the faerie ring in which she had seen him the first time. 

Much to her disappointment, the face she had stumbled across weeks ago wasn’t present. It would’ve been easier for her to acknowledge him if he was already there, but she figured she would have to take measures into her own hands. With little to no forethought, she held her breath, closed her eyes, then stepped right into the vacant ring in the clearing. 

Before she even had the opportunity to open her eyes, she felt her body being vaulted backwards. She shrieked, then groaned as her back hit the ground beneath her. Upon opening her eyes, she saw him, the Fae with the beautiful eyes staring down at her. She couldn’t help but smirk at the slightest- lore always said that the Fae folk would do anything to make you miserable, but it almost seemed like this one was looking out for her. Before she could say anything to him, he disappeared just as fast as he came. She picked herself back up, sighed, then returned back home. 

Then she didn’t see him for a while. While she knew it was for the best, a part of her ached for a missed opportunity. There could’ve been so much adventure at hand if only she had acknowledged him, even if it meant giving up her womb. All she could do was fantasize about what could’ve been at night before she went to bed. It was all she ever did. 

Until she woke up to a pile of feathers on her windowsill. They were kept still by a small pebble from her garden, but the array was beautiful. A Blue Jay, a Crow, a Cardinal, and a Goldfinch. Accepting gifts from the Fae was strictly prohibited, yet she grabbed the feathers, and sprinted towards the faerie ring in which she had paid her visits to one too many times. 

She didn’t sit inside the ring, instead, just kneeling on the outside with the feathers cradled gently in her hands. 

“Hello?” She called out. If anyone caught her, she would look terribly foolish talking to herself while holding a handful of feathers. “This gift is beautiful, but my mother would tell me I cannot accept it.” 

She waited a moment, then heard the soft tap of footsteps on the grass behind her. Spinning around, she saw him, in all of his glory. He really was a beautiful thing, and that’s why she reckoned she thought of him so much. There was something about his aura, and those beautiful eyes, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw him. 

“Hello.” 

“Are you a fool?” He replied, towering over her as he stood across her. 

“Maybe.” She replied. “Or maybe I just want to be your friend.” 

“That would make you a fool.” Uncharacteristic for a faerie, he sat down next to her, and handed her another feather- a Great Horned Owl. 

“Thank you.” She smiled, and she immediately watched his stoic expression switch to a frown. 

“You weren’t supposed to say that.” 

“I wasn’t aware that this was a test.” __ shrugged, twisting the Owl feather between her fingers. “So, what do I owe you?” 

The Faerie looked at her, baffled, and cocked an eyebrow. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it, merely shaking his head in response. 

“You wanting to involve yourself with the Fae takes the fun out of all of this, you do know that, correct?” He sighed, and __ merely giggled. 

“Am I making your job difficult?” 

“No, no, just interesting.” 

“Well, you were the one who pushed me from the ring and brought me a gift. From my side, it feels like you’re the one who’s seeking me out.”

“Perhaps I’m looking for companionship.” __ felt her heart skip a beat as her eyes locked with his. Before she thought they were a light shade of bluish gray, but under the canopy of leaves, they looked a deep green. Maybe his eyes were magic, too. 

“My name is __.” __ smiled, taking a feather and reaching it out to brush it gently against the bridge of his nose, causing him to jump back in confusion. “And yes, that is my real name. __ __. Use it at your will.” 

“Are you that bored?” A slight chuckle passed the lips of the Fae as he shook his head. “Or are you that trusting?” 

“Perhaps a little mix of both…” She trailed off, searching for the name of the Fae across from her. He blinked at her slowly, the mechanics of his mind working out whether or not he could trust her with his own name or not. She smiled softly as she watched his thought process, fiddling with the feather in her hands as she did. 

“My name is Akaashi Keiji.” He smiled softly. “You may call me Keiji.” 

“Keiji.” The name felt like honey butter against her lips and she smiled, bidding him farewell using his lovely name, Keiji, and skipping back to her house. 

The friendship that blossomed between the two was unusual, yet __ had somehow managed to keep it a secret from her mother. It wasn’t difficult to sneak around, especially since her poor mother had been bedridden for quite some time. It had gotten to the point where it was worrying, her rendezvous with her companion cut short, and missed as the weeks progressed. Keiji still left small gifts on her windowsill, almost as a beacon for her to visit him, yet she felt overwhelming guilt at the thought of her leaving her poor mother alone in a terrible time. Between praying to every deity for her mother's safety, and attempts to nurse her mother back to health, she found it hard to think about anything else besides her mother, even if the word “Keiji” found itself tumbling off her lips at random times throughout the day. 

Then, as his name fell from her lips once as she brewed her mother a chamomile tea, she realized her situation. Keiji, he was a Faerie, he could heal her mother. The adrenaline of this realization ran through her body like lightning, and as soon as she handed her mother her tea and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead, she left through the front door and sprinted through the woods. 

Keiji must have felt her energy, because as soon as she stumbled towards the ring, he was already there. She looked like a decent mess, the hem of her skirt and her knees covered in grass stains from tripping over herself. Keiji looked at her in surprise and what he could only describe as his form of excitement. 

“Oh, Keiji, Keiji.” She gasped, attempting to catch her breath. “Can you please help me?” 

“You’re aware everything comes at a cost, correct?” He muttered, offering her a seat next to him on the grass. She sat down quickly, then grabbed his hands in hers, causing him to flinch at the slightest. 

“Keiji, please, my mother…” __ still struggled to catch her breath, a mix between sprinting and her adrenaline. “My mother has been gravely ill for quite awhile and I’m afraid she isn’t going to make it much longer.” 

“And you would like me to…” 

“Please make her better. I will do absolutely anything in return.” 

“Ah, health.” Keiji sighed deeply and cocked his head. “It isn’t impossible for me. When your mother wakes up tomorrow morning, she will be in perfect health. Memories of her illness will be faded and distant and she will be up and active just as she was before she was ill.”  

“Are you serious?” __ responded, almost giddy, a smile cracking on her face. 

“Yes. It’s very possible. However, you are aware that there is a heavy price to pay.” 

“God, Keiji, I gave you my name when we first met, I don’t care about prices.” 

“Well, this one might be different for you.” He blinked slowly, catching __’s gaze. “In return for your mothers health, your mortality belongs to me.” 

“Woah.” __ inhaled sharply, then exhaled deeply. “So, does that mean that I have to die, you own me until I die or-” 

“It means you’ll have to live in limbo between your realm and mine for the rest of my eternity.” 

“Immortality doesn’t seem so bad.” 

“You might eat your words.” 

“Do I still get to see my mother?” 

“Yes, until you gradually outlive her then-” 

“Well I would’ve outlived her eventually.” 

“You’re insatiable, woman.” Keiji sighed, rubbing his temples. “Is there seriously nothing wrong with giving away your precious human life to a Fae?” 

“Not when it’s you, Keiji.” 

__ watched his eyes roll into the back of his head, then watched his chest rise and fall heavily. Soft hands fell onto hers, and her eyes met his. 

“You’re completely and utterly confident in your decision?” Keiji asked once more, almost insecure about their transaction. 

“Yes, Keiji. My mother means everything to me.” __ nodded. 

“Enough to give yourself away to me?” 

“Well-” __ paused, giving his gentle hands a squeeze, “This is just a win win situation for me.” 

She watched as Keiji’s frown twisted into a silhouette of a smile, and his hands crept up her arms, up to her shoulders, and he pushed her gently back against the soft grass beneath them. 

“In all my years I’ve never met somebody quite as insane as you, my dear __ __.” 

“And yet here we are. I’m the one you chose to give my mortality up to you.” 

“Yes I did.” 

Keiji leaned down and ever so gently kissed the tip of her nose, her cupid's bow, then her lips. __ all but eagerly kissed back, the softness of his lips something completely foreign to her. A shiver of excitement ran up her spine as she kissed him back, her hands running up his back to bury themselves in a mess of wavy black hair. 

“You’re so enticing.” Keiji muttered against her lips. “I was waiting for this.” 

“You didn’t have to wait for me to come crying over my mother to have me.” __ giggled. “You’ve had me all along.” 

A guttural groan came from the back of Keiji’s through as he kissed her again, deeper and rougher than the first time. 

“A human has never made me feel this way before.” 

“And I take that as an honor.” 

__ buried her nose in the crook of Keiji’s neck, kissing his collarbone then ever so gently nipping her teeth against his copper flesh. She felt him sigh against her cheek as she kissed his collarbone rougher, then trailing a mix of gentle and bruising kisses up the column of his neck. 

“If I’m going to be yours forever…” __ cradled Keiji’s face in her hands as she kissed him on the lips once again, “You’re going to have to show me how worth it it’ll be.” 

Keiji wasted no time in crashing his lips into hers, kissing her so gently, so feverishly it brought chills up her spine. Her arms snaked around his neck again, kissing him deeper, deeper, feeling every pulse in her body beat for him. Heaven knows she’s wanted this, it was even more enticing now that it was magically bound. She felt his cold hands run under the hem of her dress, and wordlessly she let him slip it off of her body and over her head- she wanted to be exposed for him. It was silly, foolish, throwing herself at a man like this, it was something completely foreign to her, yet lit a spark inside of her core the more she thought about it. The embarrassment and inevitable realization was sure to come later, but in the meantime, as Keiji began to place cold, gentle kisses below her navel, the only thing she could focus on was him. His fingers danced over the sculpt of her hip bones, and eventually, the softness of her inner thighs. 

“Dare I ask for your consent?” He muttered, leaving __ giggling. 

“After I sell my soul to you?” 

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to be respectful.” Keiji  hummed, his hands running up her body again and leaving goosebumps in their wake. __ sat in silence, unaware of what his next move would be. Her heart was in her throat as Keiji got closer and closer in between her legs, and he could tell. When he reached the seam of her bloomers he chuckled deeply, and placed a deep, open mouth kiss against the fabric. She all but jumped, the feeling wasn’t foreign ate her own hand, but being caught engaging in these activities with the boys in her village was taboo, and she was far from being experienced. She wondered if Keiji wordlessly knew, or assumed she knew what she was doing. Nevertheless, Keiji gently slipped her bloomers off  of shaking legs, and wasn’t late to rubbing at her slit. 

“Oh!” She jumped, completely surprised. She hadn’t anticipated him finding her sweet spot so quick, let alone touching her at all. Keiji paused for a minute to unbutton his thin shirt, and she propped herself up on her elbows to watch him. His skin was the most beautiful shade of tan, she noticed, her eyes running up and down his torso and noticing the veins that webbed around his sculpted arms. Next were his trousers, he was expressionless as he did this, and it would’ve been frightening if she hadn’t previously learned that he majored in stoicism. When his member popped out of his boxers, she let out a tiny exhale. It seemed perfect, pretty even, and definitely wasn’t lacking. She moved to throw her bra off of her, she found no shame now in being completely exposed to him. Their bond was eternal from here. And as if it were on instinct, she opened her legs more for him, which was greeted with more rubbing against her clit. 

“Oh god, Keiji.” She threw her head back and whimpered. Her eyes blurred for a moment as she focused on the full moon above her, and all the stars that danced around it. She found it harder and harder to keep herself propped up on her elbows, her high chasing her the more he moved against her. 

Her arms collapsed underneath her, and the moment her back hit the grass, the first heavy wave of her orgasm hit her, a deep and heavy sigh escaping her as it did. His name was all she could moan as she rode out her high, strangled breaths leaving her mouth afterwards. It hit her like a train, the pure and unholy satisfaction of pleasure wasn’t foriegn to her, but in this circumstance, it left her dripping onto the grass below them. This didn’t go unnoticed by him, he ran one finger up her slit, which caused her to jolt from her after high sensitivity. Keiji merely smirked, leaning over her body to catch her lips in a kiss once again. 

“Kei-” She stammered against his lips, trying to prop herself back up on her arms to look up at the gorgeous Fae who she was enamored with. “Keiji.” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“Oh god, Keiji, fuck me.” 

There was a foreign thrill of being exposed in nature the way her and Keiji were at the moment. She could feel her heartbeat all throughout her body as Keiji positioned himself above her, his lips on her chest as he got a feel for her body. An owl hooted off in the distance, crickets chirped and other gentle sounds of nature were all that she could hear besides Keiji’s gentle breaths. In one slow, fluid movement, he slid himself inside of her to the hilt. She almost felt paralized, nothing else dared cross her mind besides Keiji. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she kissed him. The numb pain was worth it, anything was worth being close to him. 

“You’re doing so well.” His voice was still so monotonous, it spawned butterflies in her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak again, but at that moment Keiji pulled out and slammed into her again, only ammitting a small, gentle squeak from her. Keiji began to rut into her at an even pace, leaving her wordless and tingling on the earth below. She let out another pathetic moan, wishing she could do more for him from her submissive position. 

“You’re so fucking-” She stopped to sigh, then grabbed at the roots of the grass underneath her. “You’re so fucking etheral, Keiji.”

Keiji chuckled in response, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper the more he moved. The feeling of being exposed to him and mother nature sent chills across her bare body. She wished she could do more for him, make him feel better too, but her had her locked in this pathetic position, all she could do was spread her legs further apart and let him fuck her senselessly. 

And he did. The soft pants that came from his parted lips made her feel even more full than before, and the more she thought about the way he stretched her, the wetter she felt herself become. This didn’t go unnoticed by Keiji at all, him making a comment on how she was such a good girl. Her senses were clouded by chills and sex and butterflies in her stomach. 

“You’re doing so good.” Keiji hummed, yet his monotonous voice sounded a little more strangled. “I’m gonna come.” 

“Come inside me.” She muttered, not even thinking. “I’m yours.” 

Moments later, with a gentle groan, his thrusts came to a halt, and spilled himself inside of her. She felt fuller, fuller than before, and warm. She sighed softly, holding him against her with his cock buried deep inside of her still. 

“Am I worth it for forever?” She asked, her fingers running through his hair as she kissed his forehead gently. “Do you really want me forever?” 

“Yes.” Keiji hummed, kissing her back. “And I wish you found me sooner.”

[wistfulcynic]

The Eternal and Unseen (3 of 4)

SO yeah. The chapter count has grown. There’s a lot going on here. David has a backstory. Emma and Killian have a mission. IT’S A LOT and it needs more words. 

CW: This chapter contains minor (and canon compliant) character death and a potentially distressing scene involving the accidental death of a child. It’s not graphic but it is emotional so be prepared. 

As ever, thanks to @ohmightydevviepuu for plotting with me and @thisonesatellite and @katie-dub for general amazingness and @optomisticgirl​ and @spartanguard​ for the prompts and the always-enthusiastic responses 😘

And @carpedzem​ for another absolutely stunning drawing. SEE BELOW. 

SUMMARY: Misthaven University is an ancient place, and as all ancient places do it guards some secrets. Secrets such as Emma Swan and Killian Jones, a fae princess and her royal guardian, whose true identities are well concealed behind the guise of average college students—if not quite well enough to foil the plot their enemies have hatched against them. Now their friends will have to come together, putting their own differences aside to battle an enemy that threatens them all—fae and vampire and werewolf together… plus one very baffled human named David.

For @cssns​

AO3 | tumblr part one | tumblr part two 

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(I MEAN. WHAT. SO PERFECT.)

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PART THREE:

They returned to Andersen just as twilight was creeping across the sky and the moon rising into it, heavy and dark gold as it crested the forest trees. Emma watched it through the window of her room, where she and Killian and David had retreated to rest a bit and collect themselves before deciding on their next move. The others had also gone to their rooms rest and prepare, and now David sat on Emma’s bed with his hands clasped in his lap and his shoulders tight as Killian made Emma a cup of tea and she frowned at the moon. 

David watched in silence as Killian approached Emma and offered her a steaming cup. She accepted it with a smile and a cheek turned up to meet the kiss he dropped on it, in a gesture so comfortable and natural it gave David’s heart a little twinge. He wondered how he could ever have thought they weren’t right for each other when the depth and intensity of their love was so very, very obvious. 

But then he was becoming aware that there were in fact a great many obvious things in this world that he hadn’t been able to see. It was not a comfortable thought. 

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “I get that you’ve both got a lot of thinking to do right now. But could you—is there time for you just to explain a few things first? Like exactly what the hell is going on? I feel like everyone knows what’s happening here but me.” 

“That shouldn’t be a new feeling for you,” remarked Killian with a smirk. David sighed. 

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair. I’m not sure how I missed so much of what was happening around me, but I see it now and I’d like to understand it.”

Emma and Killian exchanged a glance. 

“What exactly have you seen?” Emma asked. 

“Visions?” David said uncertainly. “Of the past? Killian made me drink something purple and then I started seeing things.” 

“Something purple?” Emma frowned. 

“Yeah. He put some grey powder and a crushed up leaf into a beaker full of something Victor gave him, and it turned purple. And started to smoke,” said David.

“You gave him purple willow bark?” Emma turned to Killian in alarm.

“Aye,” Killian replied. “Along with the sap from one of Jane’s leaves.”  

“Oh.” Emma relaxed. “Well, that was the right choice of leaf at least.” 

“I do listen when you talk about the plants, love.”  

“Hmmm,” said Emma. “And how did you feel afterwards?” she asked David. 

“I—kind of passed out.” 

Emma nodded. “I’m not surprised. Purple willow packs a punch. Normally we blend a few herbs into the emulsifier to soften its effects, but there’s no way Killian could have known the correct ones. He did the best he could in the circumstances.” She gave Killian a smile that tried hard to be sardonic. “This time, though, I’ll give you the gentler version.” 

David started. “This time?” 

“Well, yeah,” said Emma. “It’s the easiest way to give you the information you need. We could explain, I suppose, but it’s really best if you see it for yourself. Especially if you want to know your own history.” 

“My… own history?” 

Emma nodded, her expression sorrowful and soft with sympathy. “Yeah. You’ve seen the history of the fae and the Guardians, now you need to understand where you fit into that.” 

“Killian—” David cleared his throat. “Killian said I’m a—a Guardian? Like he is?” 

“Yeah you are. But as you’ve probably guessed there’s more to it than that. Are you ready to See?” 

David swallowed hard. Part of him still wanted to say no, to deny all of this and run, back to yesterday when things had made sense. But a bigger part of him knew he needed to know, and to understand why all these crazy things that were happening to him seemed less and less crazy the more he thought about them. The more he thought. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m ready.” 

~

It’s less abrupt this time, smoother, as though he’s drifting in a boat on a misty sea. The mist clears and the sea recedes and he is standing at the edge of a wood, with fields at his back and before him trees that reach up to the sky, tall and straight as in the forest of the fae council, only now they frame not an ancient round stone but a house. It’s a nice house if rather a small one, humble but homey, made of wood and fronted by a well-kept garden with a creek running through it. Something about the house tickles at David’s memory—though no, not his memory exactly, more a feeling… the sense that he has been here before. 

He blinks and finds himself inside the house, in a cramped bedroom where a woman lies back against rumpled pillows, exhausted, cradling a tiny newborn baby in her arms. Slowly she traces the curve of the baby’s cheek with the tip of her finger, her eyes alight with wonder. 

“James,” she whispers. “Your name is James.” 

“And who is this one?” asks a voice. David turns to see another woman, plain and sturdy and with kind eyes, holding up another tiny bundle. This second bundle she places gently in the crook of the woman’s other arm. 

“David,” says the woman on the bed. “This one is David.” 

David gasps and his eyes fly to the woman, but before he can get a good look at her the scene is shifting and he sees the babies—himself and his brother—his brother—now toddlers, running through the woods behind the house. He knows, somehow, which is himself and which is James—though their faces are identical, James’s wears an expression of recklessness and mischief as he runs as fast as his young legs can take him to the edge of the creek that comes out from the woods to cut across the corner of their garden. Young David follows, his tiny face crumpling as he calls out to his brother, and David now can feel the terror of his younger self as he sees James slip on the slick rocks that border the creek, hears his brother’s cry, abruptly silenced as his head hits the stones… David sees his own young legs move as fast as they can—faster than they should—but still far too slowly. He hears a heartrending scream, feels the flurry of movement as his mother runs from the garden—she turned her back for the briefest moment—and David looks away. His toddler self is bawling and he cannot watch it, cannot listen to his mother’s broken sobs… this, he thinks, this must be why she never told him that he had a twin. Her cries are unearthly as she cradles James’s tiny form, and they echo in David’s aching chest as he squeezes his eyes shut and wills the scene to change. 

It does, and when he looks again he’s back inside the house where it is clear that time has passed—though it cannot be much; David’s younger self is older now but by a few months or so, no more. He is in the bedroom again, where a man with a very familiar square chin and blond hair arms himself for battle, while David’s mother sits on the bed and pleads for him to stay. 

“You know that I can’t, Ruth,” the man says, “The call has come, and my duty—” 

“Oh, your duty!” Ruth cries. “You’re not even the chosen Guardian!” 

“But I am a guardian,” he insists. “I must go to battle when called. And David—” 

“David is a child!” 

“A child with a bounden duty, the same as my own. You knew this when you married me.” 

“I know. I know I did but I can’t bear it now,” sobs Ruth. “I can’t, Robert. Not so soon after James.” 

Robert takes her face gently in his hands and kisses her. “I will return,” he says softly. “I promise, my love.”  

But David knows, even without being shown by the vision, that he never did. 

The scene shifts again. Very little time has passed, David can tell, but the change in his mother is heartbreaking. She is wan, gaunt, lying listlessly on the sofa with no expression in her eyes, and David can feel the worry of his toddler self as he makes a show of playing quietly on the floor, but with far more attention on his mother than his toys. She is weakened by despair and fragile from her losses, and young though he is, David is afraid for her. 

There is a knock at the door but his mother makes move to answer or even acknowledge it. It’s David who toddles over and cries “Come in!” 

The door opens to admit a woman, pale and blonde and green-eyed. Her face resembles Emma’s though considerably older, and she lacks the determined chin, the stubborn glint in the eye that Emma has. 

His mother’s eyes flit briefly to the woman then away, and she makes no move to rise. “Princess Angharad,” she says flatly. 

“Ruth,” replies the woman, coming to stand next to the sofa. Her stern expression softens in sympathy and, David thinks, a hint of pity. “I’m so very sorry.” 

“I’m sure you are,” sneers Ruth. “You lost a fine warrior, after all.” 

David gapes—never in his life has he heard his mother speak so rudely. Angharad’s expression does not change. 

“Your sacrifice has been great—” she begins, but Ruth interrupts her.

“Yes it has,” she says sharply. “And it won’t be any greater. I’m taking David and I am leaving this place.” 

Angharad’s eyebrows rise then snap together in a frown. “Leaving!” she exclaims.

“Yes.” 

“But—you know that David has been chosen as the Guardian for my granddaughter, Emma.” 

“Yes I do.” 

“His selection was a great honour.”  

“Yes it was. And I refuse it. You can’t have him.” 

“Ruth—” 

“No!” There’s fire in Ruth’s eyes now, sparking dangerously as she sits up straight to glare at the princess. “You’ve taken my husband. I’ve lost my son. David is all I have left, you will not take him from me too!” 

“But the Guardian—” 

“Choose another.” 

Angharad steps backwards and nearly stumbles into the armchair next to the sofa. She twists her hands together in her lap. “It is your right, as you know, to make this refusal on behalf of your minor child,” she says. “But I would urge you, strongly urge you to reconsider.” 

“I won’t.” Ruth’s jaw is set. “My mind is made up.” 

The princess’s own jaw is tight, her eyes troubled. “There is another who might do,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “Closer in age to Emma than we generally prefer and with certain… troubling portents, but if you are truly adamant…” She darts a glance at Ruth. 

“I am,” Ruth confirms. Angharad nods. She looks up again and this time holds Ruth’s gaze.

“And what is your intention, when you leave us?” she asks. “Where will you go?”

“Into the human world. I’m going to raise my son among his own kind, humans who have no obligation to the fae or any knowledge of darkness or covenants. He’ll grow up as far away from magic as I can get him.” 

Angharad’s face is sorrowful now. “I cannot agree with this decision, as much as I sympathise with why you have taken it. This recent battle has brought great losses to many of our human allies. For that I am boundlessly sorry.” 

“I don’t accept your apology,” says Ruth stiffly. “Although I do acknowledge it.” 

“That is fair.” Angharad nods. She straightens her shoulders and looks at Ruth again. “Before I go and with your permission, I would bestow on you one final gift.” 

Ruth’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “What sort of gift?” 

Angharad looks at young David, still playing on the floor and listening, older David is certain, to every word. “The human world is not like ours but there is still magic there, and David with his heritage and the distinction that should have been his will find himself drawn to it,” she explains. “I can—close his mind, as it were, to the perception of that magic, make it far more difficult for him to see and easier to rationalise if he does see it.” 

“You want to mess with my son’s head,” says Ruth flatly.

“In a manner of speaking,” Angharad concedes. “It’s not normally something I would do especially to a child so young, but understand me well, Ruth—underestimating the pull of his heritage, of two hundred generations of Guardians, would be a grave mistake. Even with this spell upon him he may still find himself drawn by magic. You cannot keep him from it by your will alone.” 

“Fine,” Ruth spits. “Do what you like.” 

Angharad approaches young David with a kind smile and kneels beside him. 

“What’s that you’re playing with?” she asks. 

“Lego!” he exclaims. “It’s a castle!” 

“And a very fine one too,” Angharad murmurs, with such sadness in her eyes David’s heart aches. She brushes the hair from his forehead then lets her hand rest there as she murmurs a few words. David feels his younger mind blur and shift and resettle. The toddler’s eyes go hazy and he blinks them slowly, and when the princess removes her hand he returns to his toys, blithely building his castle as though she were not even there. 

Angharad rises to her feet. “I shall take the sword now,” she says briskly. 

Ruth gets up from the sofa and disappears through the bedroom door. When she returns she is carrying a long sword—the same sword David last saw belted around his father’s waist. The one that is now in his own possession. 

“What will you do with it?” Ruth asks, thrusting the sword at Angharad.  

“Keep it safe,” she replies. “It rightfully belongs to your son, and to his descendants. One day perhaps one of them might wish to claim it.” 

“I hope not,” says Ruth. “With every fibre of my being I hope it.” 

“That is your right, and your prerogative,” replies Angharad. “As it is mine to hope that despite everything that has come to pass, one day David may take it up again, and find his way back to us.”

~

Emma sat in her armchair with her legs curled beneath her and a cup of tea steaming gently in her hand, watching the images flickering in her scrying mirror. David was lying in her bed, his eyes moving frantically beneath closed lids and his limbs twitching as he re-lived his history. Killian and Harriet both sat at his beside, ready to react should anything go wrong. Emma cast a glance at them, smiling fondly at the sight of one of Harriet’s fronds curled gently around Killian’s neck, stroking the nape of it as Emma herself liked to do. Killian gave a little hum at the tickling caress but did not look up from the book that lay open in his lap. 

Emma turned her attention back to the mirror. The images it revealed confirmed her suspicions, but something about the whole business still troubled her, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She frowned as she went back over some of the images, playing them again, willing herself to see what she was missing. 

Harriet unfurled one of her vines—not the one standing ready to protect David or the one fondling Killian (Harriet was an excellent multi-tasker) and with the closest thing to a long-suffering sigh a plant can muster tapped the tip of a leaf against one of the posters Emma had blu-tacked to the wall. The one that outlined the lunar cycles of the year 2020. Another leaf gestured emphatically at the window, where the golden moon was still rising in the sky.

“Of course,” breathed Emma. “That’s it.”  

Killian looked up from his book. “That’s what, love?” 

“I’ve just figured out what’s been bothering me about this whole thing,” Emma exclaimed. Harriet huffed and folded her vine as a person might fold their arms across their chest. “Okay, okay,” laughed Emma, “it was Harriet who figured it out.” 

“Naturally.” Killian gave Harriet a little scratch behind her leaf. 

“But it all makes sense now,” Emma continued. “Things I couldn’t find a good explanation for, like why those women would kidnap me and why my instincts would tell me they were deadly dangerous when every other sign indicates that they’re really, really not.” She set her teacup down on her desk and leapt to her feet, dropping an absent kiss on Killian’s cheek as she headed for the door. “You stay here until David wakes up, okay? It should only be a few more minutes. I need to go talk to Belle.” 

~

Angharad’s final words echo in his ears as the scene shifts around her, and though her face appears unchanged David senses she is now some years older. This seems confirmed by the young woman seated in front of her, a blonde and green-eyed fae that is, finally, Emma. 

She’s so young, David thinks, with a small twinge beneath his heart, though this cannot be more than a few years in the past. Emma’s face is rounder and her hair less styled, though he can see the seeds of the woman he knows in the stubborn set to her girlish jaw and the wilful spark in her eyes. She’s dressed in a long split skirt and a fitted leather jerkin in her trademark red, which even with his limited knowledge from these visions David recognises as a traditional fae style, updated for the modern world, and he is not surprised that this is something young Emma might choose to wear. She sits on a wide, cushioned seat in a large room where the walls appear to be formed of tightly twisted tree branches with tall windows and a wooden door set into them. David reflects for a moment how a mere twenty-four hours ago such decor would have astonished him, then returns his attention to Angharad and to Emma.

“Now that you are about to come of age,” the elder fae is saying, “it’s high time you met your Guardian.” 

“Ugh. Do I have to?” 

Emma manages not to whine but David can tell it’s a near thing. She crosses her arms over her chest and it’s plain to see her lower lip wants badly to pout. 

“Don’t you want to?” Angharad looks shocked. 

“No, actually,” Emma retorts. “I don’t need a man to take care of me.” 

“He is not a man, he’s your Guardian,” her grandmother scolds, “and his job is not to ‘take care of you.’ It is to protect you.” 

“I don’t need that either!” 

Angharad’s expression says plainly that she is holding tight to her patience. “Emma, the most recent battles are within your lifetime—” 

“Barely,” Emma mutters.

“—and despite your gifts for scrying you cannot predict with certainty when there might be another. After the loss of both your parents and so many of our kind we simply cannot afford to be without our Guardians should we find ourselves again under attack. Without their aid fae kind would have been lost thousands of years ago, and indeed as the covenants say—” 

“All right, all right,” groans Emma. “For the love of the goddess, don’t start quoting the covenants. I’ll accept this Guardian and do what is required of me. But you canNOT make me need him!” 

“I will pray that you never do,” says Angharad, now with a twinkle of humour behind her stern expression. 

A knock sounds at the door, and she goes to open it. A young man enters the room, mid-twenties at David’s estimate and moving with a distinct stiffness in his right leg. “Ah, good day to you, Captain Jones,” Angharad greets him warmly. “Do come in. But where is your brother?” 

“Outside looking at your horses,” says the man with a sigh. He continues to speak but David doesn’t hear his words—he has noticed Emma slip quietly from the room and he follows her. She creeps down a narrow hallway and through a door at the back of the dwelling. Once outside she darts through a sparse scattering of trees, heading for a long, low building that David gathers to be the stables. Just as she approaches the broad stable door it flies open and a boy strides through it, colliding with Emma and barely managing to catch her before she can fall. 

“Oh!” she cries and the boy grunts, blinking startled blue eyes as he gazes down at her. Her own eyes widen and for a moment they stand frozen, his arms around her waist and her hands on his chest, staring at each other in helpless fascination—until the boy blinks rapidly and clears his throat as he steps back. 

Killian—because of course it’s he—scratches nervously behind his ear. 

“Um,” he says, “er... ah…” 

“Eloquent,” teases Emma, who has by all appearance regained her composure—though David notes the bright flush in her cheeks and the breathiness of her voice. “You must be Killian Jones.” 

“Aye,” he replies, collecting his wits and giving her a hesitant smile. “And you are of course the princess Emma.” 

“I am.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, lass.” 

“The pleasure is all yours,” retorts Emma. Killian looks first startled, then affronted, then captivated, all within a few blinks of an eye. A delighted grin spreads across his face, with just a hint of the smirk he will perfect in years to come. 

Emma herself blinks at that grin, and the flush on her cheeks deepens. “You should know from the start that I don’t need a Guardian,” she declares, attempting to cover her discomfiture with a haughty glare. “I can take care of myself.” 

“Oh yes,” says Killian. His gaze travels slowly down her form and back up again. “I don’t doubt that you can.” 

“Oh.” Emma scowls at his easy acquiescence and also, David imagines, at the way he’s looking at her—as though she’s the most brilliant thing he’s ever seen. She shifts uncomfortably as Killian moves closer. 

“But however capable you may be, Your Highness,” he says, his voice dropping lower and his expression hardening, “and regardless of whether or not you want one, you’ve got a Guardian. Me.” He leans in closer still and David can hear Emma’s breath catch. “And I intend to take my duties very, very seriously.” 

“But I don’t need you!” Emma snaps. There’s frustration in her tone and temper in her eyes, though she doesn’t, David notices, back away. 

“And I don’t care.” 

They are so close now their noses are nearly touching and the air crackles with the tension between them. David is all too familiar with these battles of wills of theirs, having witnessed many firsthand in the dorm, but this one, the first one, is the most intense of all. He holds his own breath as he watches them take the measure of each other, notes the rapid rise and fall of their chests and the way their eyes are locked, how Killian’s hand curls around Emma’s hip and hers slides up his chest without either of them noticing. He begins to feel as though he should look away—this moment is too intimate for him to witness—but then Angharad’s voice cries “Emma!” from the direction of the house and she and Killian wrench themselves apart. 

They stare at each other for a moment as they attempt to catch their breaths, then Emma gives her hair a toss. 

“Well,” she huffs, “have it your way, I guess. You can follow me around if you like, I can’t stop you, but you’re going to look pretty stupid when you show up to save me and find I’ve already saved myself.” 

Killian laughs, loud and bright. “I’m prepared to take that chance, princess,” he says. 

The scene shimmers and resolves into two figures walking through the woods. One is Killian and the other his brother, the man whom Angharad addressed earlier as Captain Jones. His limp is more pronounced now, a halting gait caused by the stiff way he holds his right leg and his clear reluctance to put weight on it, as though the knee cannot be fully trusted. The two of them emerge from the trees and out onto a narrow road where a car is parked. David notes the way Killian moderates his own pace to match his brother’s, unconsciously, walking slowly despite the buzz of nervous energy that is rolling off him in waves.

They approach the car and Killian removes a set of keys from his pocket to unlock it, then gets behind the wheel while his brother with effort eases himself into the passenger seat. There’s a scowl on Killian’s face and his movements are jerky as he puts the car in gear; his brother has been lecturing him and he is clearly displeased. David hasn’t been listening to their words but he concentrates on them now, just in time to hear Killian snap “Bloody hell, Liam—” 

“Language!” 

“—I only met her today! We spoke for less than five minutes! Don’t you think it’s a bit premature to be warning me away from her!” 

“I wish it were,” Liam mutters. “Sometimes five minutes is all it takes.” 

Killian grips the steering wheel hard with one hand and jams the key into the ignition with the other. “What the devil are you on about?” he grumbles, though the look on his face makes David suspect that he knows full well what Liam is ‘on about’, and that it worries him too. 

Liam sighs. “Look, just—just be careful, little brother.” 

“When am I not careful, and it’s younger brother, if you don’t mind.” 

“Killian.” Liam’s face is intensely solemn, with genuine fear behind his eyes. “You can’t fall in love with her.” 

Killian shoots his brother a glare as he twists the key and the car’s engine roars to life. “I know that,” he snaps, “and I don’t intend to.” 

David nearly laughs. If that’s what has Liam so concerned, his warning’s come far too late. Killian is halfway in love already, and his feelings are a tide that cannot be turned. 

“Well.” Liam shifts uncomfortably in his seat and folds his arms across his chest. “See that you don’t, then.” 

Killian twists the wheel and he car peels away. David doesn’t follow it. He can feel the potion thinning in his veins, the visions receding along with the car’s taillights, leaving him standing in the fading forest wondering what on earth could make the prospect of Killian and Emma falling in love strike such fear into a man like Liam Jones. 

~

David came awake slowly, drifting back to consciousness in that boat on the misty sea. When he opened his eyes he found himself lying on Emma’s bed wrapped in some sort of blanket, warm and quite comfortable and with Killian beside him in a chair, a book open in his lap. He shut the book when he sensed David’s gaze on him, set it aside and offered a smile. 

“How are you feeling, mate?” he asked. 

“Good,” said David, then paused to clear the croak from his voice. “Hell of a lot better than I did after the potion you gave me.” 

“Aye, I don’t doubt it.” Killian chuckled. “ I’m pretty much the furthest thing imaginable from an expert on magic. It was all I could do to remember the basic elements of the potion Angharad gave me when I accepted my Guardian duties.” 

“So you—saw what I did? The visions?”

“I saw what you did the first time,” said Killian. “The fae histories and the origin of the Guardians. That knowledge is given to all of us. These latest visions, though, were for you alone.” 

David moved to sit up only to discover that he couldn’t. What he had taken for a blanket turned out, upon closer examination, to be an enormous, glossy green leaf wrapped tightly around him. 

“What the—” he sputtered. 

“Oh, that’s Harriet,” said Killian, blithely, as though leaves the size of blankets were a thing one found oneself wrapped in as a matter of course. “Don’t worry, she’s friendly. Most of the time.” 

Another leaf appeared in front of David’s face, this one far smaller and with tiny green fronds curling at its base. He could swear it was waving at him. 

“Say hello,” Killian encouraged. 

“Um, hello, uh, Harriet,” said David. The leaf gave a nod. “Um, what’s it—er, she doing here?”

“Keeping you safe.” 

“Oh. Er. Sure. Thanks?” 

 The leaf nodded graciously, then curled around his face and patted him on the head. 

“You see?” said Killian. “She’s a sweetheart. Just don’t get on her bad side.” 

“Um. Why?” 

Killian grinned. “Show him, Harriet.” 

The leaf released David’s head and reappeared in front of his face. As he watched, it gave a sudden flex and thorns appeared across its surface, close-set and a good inch long, sharp as daggers. David gulped. “Oh.” 

“Aye. But don’t worry, she likes you. She generally likes the people Emma likes.” 

“Well that’s, um, good.” 

“That it is.” Killian gave Harriet a pat. “Let him up, now, love.” 

Harriet unfurled her leaf and slid it out from under him. David sat up, groaning and flexing his aching muscles. “Is it normal to feel this sore?” he asked. 

“Oh yes. The visions take quite a lot out of you. But here, Emma left you this.” He held out a cup of a dark and steaming liquid. David accepted it warily, and gave it a sniff. It smelled earthy and sweet, like nothing he’d encountered before, and when he chanced a tentative sip it was delicious. 

“What is this?” he asked, taking a larger drink.

“Infusion of the lesser burdock root,” said Killian. 

“Oh, well that doesn’t sound too—” 

“Fermented in wild boar dung.” 

David choked and spat out his mouthful of liquid, wheezing and coughing as Killian laughed and clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry, it’s thoroughly washed before they infuse it,” he said. 

“Yea, that’s not really all that comforting.” 

“Drink it up anyway, mate, it’ll soothe the muscle aches and calm your nerves. Just don’t think too hard about it.” 

David squeezed his eyes shut and gulped down the brew as quickly as he could. Within moments his muscles relaxed and his heart rate slowed. He sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly, then opened his eyes. 

“Better?” inquired Killian. 

“Yeah.” He paused, then added “Physically at least.” 

Killian nodded, and sat back in his chair. “You have questions,” he observed. 

“One or two.” 

“Anything you care to ask, I’ll do my best to answer.” 

David rubbed a hand over his face. There was so much to process in what he’d seen, so much about himself that he had never known. He wondered what Killian knew, wondered how the younger man had managed to identify him as a fellow Guardian. How could he possibly have known? Unless… “How much did you see of… of what I saw today?” he asked.

“I saw none of it, not in visions. I told you, that’s your history and yours alone. But I knew the basic details, about your brother and your father, and the reason your mother took you away from the tribe.” 

“Angharad told you.” 

“Aye.” 

“Because you weren’t supposed to be Emma’s Guardian.” 

Killian shook his head. “No. I wasn’t. Originally it was meant to be my brother Liam.” 

David considered Captain Liam Jones, and his stiff gait. “But he was too badly injured,” he murmured.

“Yes. In the battle that killed your father.” 

David looked up sharply. “But he must have been just a child!” 

“He was ten.” Killian swallowed hard, and when he spoke again his voice was strained. “Too young to fight, but not to young to come under attack. Raiders invaded our house, in search of my father. When Liam told them he had fled, they attacked the both of us. I was barely a year old. Liam shielded me, he wouldn’t let me go no matter what they did to him. Even when they smashed his kneecap beyond repair.” 

David recalled the tiny boy who shared his face, racing towards the creek. It seemed he and Killian had more in common then he’d known. “Why were they after you?” he asked gruffly. “And who’s they?” 

“We don’t know,” said Killian wryly. “They didn’t exactly stick around to effect introductions. We only know that they were humans, enemies of the fae, trying to eliminate a Guardian and his sons.” 

“Your father’s a Guardian?” 

“He was,” Killian spat. “Before he ran away and abandoned us. I don’t know if he’s even alive anymore. I don’t care.” He did care though, David thought. The pain of his father’s betrayal remained sharp, even after so many years. But he said nothing, and Killian continued. “At any rate, Liam was left unable to guard the princess, and so the mantle was passed to you.”

“And when my mother took me away—” 

“It came to me, aye. As the very last of last resorts.” He attempted a laugh. “But it must be said that Angharad was never entirely comfortable with me as Emma’s Guardian. She’s highly gifted with Sight and I think she must have known that there was”—he flushed a bright pink and David bit back a smirk—“the potential for deeper feelings between us. But she had, very literally, no other choice.” 

“Are deeper feelings not allowed? Is that why your brother warned you not to fall in love with Emma?” 

“Ah.” Killian scratched behind his ear. “You saw that, did you? Did you also see—”

“Your and Emma’s first meeting?” David did smirk this time. “Yeah.” 

Killian’s flush deepened. “Aye, she, uh, mentioned she might show that to you.” 

“I’m glad she did, actually,” said David. “It was sweet, really, seeing you nearly swallow your own tongue after one look at her.” 

“I didn’t—” Killian began, then caught David’s sardonic expression. “Well, okay, maybe I did,” he conceded. “That’s not the reason she showed you, though.” 

“It’s because you weren’t supposed to get involved with each other,” said David, just a bit smugly. “And she wanted me to understand why in spite of that, you did. Isn’t that it?”  

“You know, I like you better now that you’re not so bloody dense,” Killian retorted, “but it’s also kind of annoying, you actually seeing the things right in front of your face.” 

“Just answer the question, Jones.” 

“Yes,” said Killian shortly. “You’re right. For a Guardian and his charge to fall in love is expressly forbidden. I could be executed for it.” 

“Executed!” 

Killian shrugged. “It’s happened before.” 

“And yet you don’t seem very worried.” 

Killian leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped. “Those histories you saw, the war against the Black Fairy and the Guardian alliances,” he said, “they happened over four thousand years ago.” 

“Four thousand!” 

 “Indeed. So as you might imagine, a lot has changed since then. The fae population has steadily dwindled while the human one has surged. Magic is no longer widely used or even known, and much of fae history has been wiped from official records. Up to and including the original name of this very building.” 

H.C. Andersen, David thinks. Teller of fairy tales. Because what better way to lessen the fear of something than to turn it into a children’s story? 

 “Meanwhile,” continued Killian, “the Guardians also have been whittled away to almost nothing. My brother out of commission and our father gone. Your father and brother both killed and you taken away. And that’s just in these past twenty years. Of the twelve fae tribes four have retreated entirely from human contact and refuse to have Guardians, and the eight who remain have only twenty-one active Guardians among them. A century ago there were hundreds of us. A millennium ago, thousands.”

David considered this. “But doesn’t that just make it even more reckless for you and Emma to give in to—um—” 

“Our lustful desires?” Killian mocked. 

“Well, er—” 

“Aye, you might well imagine it would,” Killian replied, dropping the mockery with a sigh. “Except that there’s no one left to pass judgement on us. A ruling of execution would have to be proposed and carried by the Fae Council, which hasn’t been convened for centuries. I’m not sure anyone would even know how to convene it if they wanted to. The covenants that we follow are thousands of years old, made in and for a different time. They no longer suit the needs of anyone, fae or human, but of course only the Fae Council has the power to amend them.” 

“Of course,” murmured David, though he found it rather comforting that fae bureaucracy was apparently as useless as the human version. 

“Something has to change,” said Killian, “but no one knows exactly what or how or who is going to change it. So Emma and I decided that we would. Who better than the protector of the tywyll stone and her Guardian to make the decisions that need making? No one has more authority than we do, and we intend to use it. That’s why we’re not afraid anymore to make our relationship known. We’ll face whatever consequences may come and we’ll fight for each other. We’re prepared to do whatever is necessary to build a world where we can be together and be happy.” 

He spoke so calmly and with such assurance, David thought, like there was no doubt in his mind of his feelings or of Emma’s. David thought of Snow—her face as always bright and beautiful and at the forefront of his mind—and a twisty tangle of yearning tightened in his chest. 

“Well, I’m on your side,” he said. “For whatever that’s worth.” 

Killian smiled. “It’s worth quite a lot, mate. For us personally but also because you’re a Guardian. That’s a heritage that can’t be erased; even though you didn’t grow up with it, it’s still yours. Your sword recognised you. You recognised Emma. And Snow, who, by the way, is also a fae princess. You know, just in case you were interested.” His eyes twinkled with mischief as David shot him a sharp look.

“Does—” David cleared his throat. “Does she have a Guardian?” 

“She does. Chap by the name of Lance. Big fellow, many muscles.” 

“I see. But he’s not, er, here?” 

“He’s nearby,” said Killian. “Ready to respond in an instant if he’s called. Guardians don’t actually have to live so close to their charges as Emma and I do, but—well—” 

“You wanted to be near each other.” 

“Aye.” 

David had so many more questions, dozens of them clamouring for his attention, but before he could ask any the door swung open and Emma appeared. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” she said. “Everything all right?” 

“Uh, yeah,” David replied. “I think so.” 

“Good, because I think I know what’s going on here. Everyone’s meeting in the common room in five.” 

~

Despite the chill of the night the common room was warm, lit by a bright and crackling fire. David sat on the wide sofa across from the hearth, with Ruby next to him and Graham on her other side. August lounged in the armchair in the corner and Killian in the one next to the fireplace, while Victor leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Emma stood in front of the fire with Belle hovering at her side, just visible in the orange light of the flames. Snow wasn’t there—she had volunteered to stay back in the forest to guard the women in their tree-branch prison. David wished she hadn’t—there were things he desperately wanted to tell her, though he knew that, as she would say, now was not the time. 

Emma was silent for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. “So as you all now know, I’m the one who has the tywyll stone,” she said finally, and everyone nodded. “It’s been in my family since the beginning, and it was my ancestor Arianrhod who locked the Black Fairy’s magic into the stone in the first place. All my life I’ve been raised knowing that I would be the stone’s protector and I never once questioned that. It was my heritage, and it was decreed by the covenants. I never questioned any of it, until recently.” She cast a glance at Killian, who gave her a smile and an encouraging nod. “I also didn’t question the instinct that told me to leave the stone behind when those women took me,” she continued. “The instinct that told me that I couldn’t allow the stone to fall into their hands. It wasn’t until I got back home this afternoon that it occurred to me to wonder why. Why would my instincts react so dramatically when those women were so easy to defeat? It troubled me, and the most troubling thing was that I couldn’t figure out why it was troubling. But now I know. It’s their timing.” 

“Timing?” said Ruby. “What do you mean?”

“Okay,” Emma replied, “here’s the deal, everything I was Shown in the scrying mirror. There are three of them, a mother and two daughters. The mother, Cora, she’s human. She’s got no magic and her knowledge of it seems limited to what’s contained in the standard scrolls—the versions of the histories that are available in any human library. She wouldn’t have access to any of the actual fae histories, and if she raised her daughters among humans it’s unlikely they would either.” 

“Sorry,” said David. “But what do you mean by the actual fae histories?”

“The fae store our history in trees,” explained Emma. “Like the purple willow whose bark gave you your visions. The scrolls tell the broad story, but they hold none of the details you get from seeing the events unfold yourself.” 

“So—all of you have seen these visions?” 

“We’ve all seen a version of them,” said Graham. “The ones involving our own ancestors. But the location of the tywyll stone needed to remain secret, so for obvious reasons we weren’t shown the part involving the trapping of the magic.” 

“But then why was I shown that?” 

“Guardians are all shown what you saw,” Killian replied. “We are all descended from Cynbel, the warrior who captured the Black Fairy’s wand.” 

“What, all of us?” 

“All of us. Cousin.” Killian smirked at him. “Cynbel’s tale is the origin of all Guardians, and so we have the right to see it.” 

“So all Guardians know who has the ti—er, the stone?” 

“Yes, and part of our vows include protecting the secret of its location with our lives.” 

“Everything was always about keeping the stone a secret,” said Emma. “So that even if someone did figure out a way to release the Black Fairy’s magic, they wouldn’t know where to look for it.” 

“But somehow this Cora and her daughters figured out where to look for it,” said Ruby. 

“So it seems. But the thing is they don’t actually know what they’re looking for. They don’t even seem to know that the magic is stored in a stone. They only know it’s stored somewhere, and that I have it.” 

“So then they can’t possibly know how to release it,” Ruby cried. 

“Or how to control it even if they did,” Graham pointed out. 

“That’s what it looks like,” agreed Emma. 

“But then why?” Ruby held up her hands in frustration. “Why would she move against you when she’s so unprepared?” 

“That’s exactly what was troubling me,” said Emma. “It didn’t seem to make any sense. She’s so completely unable to do what she plans and yet she’s so confident. Why? And why did my instincts tell me to do whatever I had to in order to keep the stone out of her hands?” 

“Well?” Ruby prodded. “Why?” 

Just then there came the sound of footsteps in the corridor. The door swung open and Snow appeared, rushing into the room followed by a young woman with long, dark hair and bloody scratches covering a face that wore a look of deep apprehension. 

Emma stiffened and threw up her hands, magic sparking and crackling at her fingertips. “What is she doing here?” she snapped. 

“She’s—” began Snow, but Killian was already on his feet. 

“Who is she?” he demanded. 

“One of the women from the forest,” said Emma, and before the words were even fully out of her mouth, the room whirled in a blur of motion. August leapt from his chair as his eyes flared red and his fangs extended. Ruby and Graham’s bodies twisted, fur sprouting from their skin and claws from their fingers, faces elongating into snouts lined with sharp and dripping teeth. Killian drew his sword so fast it was a blur to David’s eyes as he swung it at the woman, stopping a hair’s breadth from her neck. Even Victor stood tense and ready, fingering a razor-honed scalpel he’d retrieved from the goddess knew where, as madness sparked in his eyes. 

“Stop it,” Snow cried, whirling around as she tried to defend against everyone at once. “She’s here as a friend.” 

“She tried to kill me!” snarled Emma, and Killian pressed the edge of his sword against the woman’s skin. She gasped and blinked as a small line of blood appeared beneath it. 

“I—I didn’t,” she stuttered. “I did my best to save you.” 

“That’s not what it sounded like from where I was standing,” retorted Emma. “Or from where I’d been flung on the ground, to be more precise.” 

“You don’t know my mother.” The woman’s tone, despite the sword at her throat and the snarling wolves and the mad scientist, the witch and the freaking vampire, was dry and heavy with irony, and David found himself impressed despite himself by her aplomb. “It’s… unwise to act directly against her,” she continued. “But she can be influenced by suggestion.” 

David could see the gears begin to turn behind Emma’s eyes as she regarded the woman with a probing stare.

“Killian,” she said quietly, and with no more instruction than this her Guardian lowered his sword, though he remained, David noticed, tense and alert. 

“Stand down, chaps,” he instructed. 

In a flash August’s eyes were blue again and his teeth a more expected length. Ruby and August shifted back to their usual forms, and Victor—well, he still looked mad, but at least he put his scalpel away. 

Emma was frowning thoughtfully at the woman. “Snow,” she said. “Why did you bring her here?” 

“She’s my kin,” replied Snow. “Look.” 

She pulled back the sleeve of her jacket to reveal the image of a tree brach curling around her wrist. David had seen the branch before, many times, but had always taken it for a tattoo. Now, though, he watched as it began to move, to wave as though caught in a summer’s breeze, and a bird appeared from out of nowhere to perch upon it. The woman pulled up her own sleeve to reveal the same branch and a very similar bird, and when the two women held their wrists together their branches intertwined and the birds began to sing. 

“Llwyth daear,” said Emma. “Earth tribe. I suppose I should have seen that.” 

“You had other things on your mind,” said Snow. “But I saw it right away. Regina is my uncle’s daughter. My uncle who left the tribe when he fell in love with a human woman. We never heard from him again.” 

“He died,” said the woman—Regina—shortly. 

“Oh.” Snow’s fingers reached out to curl around Regina’s. “I’m sorry.” 

Regina smiled. “Thank you.” 

“Well this is a touching reunion,” drawled August. “But it doesn’t explain why you brought her back here.” 

“For the information, of course,” said Emma, fixing Regina with a pointed look. “She’s here to tell us all about her mother. Aren’t you, Regina.” 

Regina nodded. “I am.” 

— 

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 20: Together

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Before they even made it over the threshold of the kitchen door, Emrys was upon them. “I’ve never seen such a sorry sight,” the old male hissed. “Blood and dirt and leaves over every inch of you both.”

He wasn’t wrong. And Emrys seemed to sense an easy victory. Their confrontation earlier had apparently only emboldened him. Not that Rowan was going to challenge the old male – Rowan deserved what he got. Not only for endangering all of them this afternoon, but for what he’d said to Aelin last night, what he’d said to her these past weeks.

Rowan could see Luca huddled by the fire, and the boy seemed alright. There wasn’t any visible damage anyways, and that was enough for Rowan. He wondered if the boy had told Emrys and Malakai about what had happened. He doubted it – Emrys was upset, but not that upset.

“No better than alley cats, brawling at all hours of the day and night,” the old male said, slamming two bowls of stew onto the worktable which Rowan sat before without a word of protest. “Eat, both of you. And then get cleaned up. Elentiya, you’re off kitchen duty tonight and tomorrow.”

Aelin was still standing in the entryway, and she seemed like she was about to protest, but Emrys held out a hand to stop her. “I don’t want you bleeding on everything. You’ll be more trouble than you’re worth.”

Rowan was already digging in to the warm stew. Perhaps it was just because of the near-death experience, or the burns currently throbbing on his arms, but it tasted even better than usual. Rich and tender and delectable.

Aelin sat next to him on the bench, swearing viciously, her face scrunched up in pain and anger. Rowan clenched his jaw. He couldn’t tell if the curses were from pain or irritation at Emrys’ declaration or if they were directed towards himself.

She stretched her right leg, wincing and cursing again. That had been the leg he’d kicked. A small measure of shame stole through him. It didn’t matter whether the curses were from pain or not – they were definitely for him.

“Clean out your mouth, too, while you’re at it,” Emrys snapped from the hearth.

A moment passed while Aelin seemed to settle into the bench, still wincing and looking at Emrys and Malakai as if she was planning on biting their heads off. Then she began to eat, and shifted back into her human form.

Emrys approached bearing a loaf of bread, saying, “Makes no difference to me whether your ears are pointy or round, or what your teeth look like. But,” he added, looking at Rowan, “I can’t deny I’m glad to see you got in a few punches this time.”

Rowan snapped his head up, meeting the old male’s gaze. His eyes seemed to say, You deserved far worse for what you’ve done to that child. 

Emrys’ voice was hard, but not cruel. More...stern, as he said, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough of beating each other into a pulp?”

Malakai stiffened, but Emrys went on in spite of his mate’s obvious anxiety. “What good does it accomplish, other than providing me with a scullery maid whose face scares the wits out of our sentries? You think any of us like to hear you two cursing and screaming every afternoon? The language you use is enough to curdle all the milk in Wendlyn.”

The atmosphere in the kitchen was tense, and Rowan knew they were all expecting him to be furious, to react in some way to the challenge the old male was setting. To lash out.

Instead, Rowan just lowered his head and mumbled an apology into his stew.

Surprise, and wicked amusement flashed through Aelin’s scent. Rowan almost thought he saw her lips curl into a fierce grin out of the corner of his eyes. But before he could glance up and confirm the look, Aelin stood and walked over to kneel at the old male’s feet.

She apologized profusely, to Emrys, Luca, and Malakai. For disrespecting their kindness, for hurting them with her careless words, for walking out on them that morning. Shame wafted through her scent, riddling it through with its noxious reek.

Malakai and Luca quietly muttered their acceptance, though Emrys only nodded. He was still wary. Hurt even. The grief from that morning had not yet left him, and though he had clearly forgiven her, it would be a while before everything was alright once more.

Emrys lowered his hand to help her from her crouch, saying, “I accept your apology, Elentiya. And I know you mean it, because I know who you are. All the elder Fae here do, for we knew your mother. She worked here in her youth. Fighting to convince the Fae of Doranelle that the demi-Fae should have a place in their realm.”

Aelin kept very still as Emrys spoke, and unlike Rowan, she didn’t seem all that surprised by the revelation. Though she was obviously discomforted by it, as she always was by the truth of her identity.

They ate the rest of their dinner in near-silence, and soon the kitchens began to fill for the evening, demi-Fae entering for the nightly meal and hearthside storytelling. Only a few did a double take upon seeing Aelin and Rowan together on the bench, their eyes glancing over their swollen and lacerated faces, covered in each other’s blood.

When Aelin stood to wash up after the meal, Rowan joined her, surprise coloring her scent and widening her eyes. He ignored it.

They washed the dishes together in quiet companionship, with only the sound of the swish of water and clink of china. But after only a few minutes of this, Aelin spoke, breaking the silence. “We had an adventure today.”

Rowan’s eyes shot up. She was looking right at Emrys, her eyes shining, and Luca was grinning with pure delight from the corner table. Malakai however, was not amused.

Malakai set down his spoon and said, “Let me guess: it had something to do with that roar that sent the livestock into pandemonium.”

Aelin’s eyes crinkled. “What do you know of a creature that dwells in the lake under …” She glanced at Rowan questioningly.

“Bald Mountain. And he can’t know that story,” Rowan said dismissively. “No one does.”

Emrys stared right back at him, his face tight with anger. “I am a Story Keeper,” he said indignantly, “And that means that the tales I collect might not come from Fae or human mouths, but I hear them anyway.”

Emrys sat down at the table, folding his hands in front of him and obviously settling in to tell the night’s tale. Rowan couldn’t help but feel skeptical. His mother’s story had been passed through his family – and tales of Brannon and Athril were frowned upon in Doranelle. No matter how wise this male was, he couldn’t know what Rowan did. Could he?

“I heard one story, years ago,” Emrys began, “From a fool who thought he could cross the Cambrian Mountains and enter Maeve’s realm without invitation. He was on his way back, barely clinging to life thanks to Maeve’s wild wolves in the passes, so we brought him here while we sent for the healers.”

Malakai murmured, “So that’s why you wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace.” Emrys gave his mate a wry smile, their eyes meeting in a shared look of love and deep affection. Obviously, this was how they had met, all those years ago.

Emrys continued. “He had a fierce infection, so at the time I thought it might have been a fever dream, but he told me he found a cave at the base of the Bald Mountain. He camped there, because it was raining and cold and he planned to be off at first light. Still, he felt like something was watching him from the lake. He drifted off, and awoke only because the ripples were lapping against the shore – ripples from the center of the lake. And just beyond the light of his fire, out in the deep, he spied something swimming. Bigger than a tree or any beast he’d ever seen.”

“Oh, it was horrific,” Luca cut in, his voice bright and excited.

“You said you were out with Bas and the other scouts on border patrol today!” Emrys gave Rowan a look that suggested he’d better test his next meal for poison.

Rowan kept his gaze even and level, and soon Emrys was once again lost in thought, absorbed by his tale. Though perhaps his face now had a slightly darker cast. Damn that talkative child.

“What the fool learned that night was this: the creature was almost as old as the mountain itself. It claimed to have been born in another world, but had slipped into this one when the gods were looking elsewhere. It had preyed upon Fae and humans until a mighty Fae warrior challenged it. And before the warrior was through, he carved one of the creature’s eyes out – for spite or sport – and cursed the beast, so that as long as that mountain stood, the creature would be forced to live beneath it.”

Emrys paused for a moment. Rowan had been wrong – Emrys knew whereof he spoke, even if he didn’t know the specifics. Didn’t know that it had been Athril and Brannon who had battled the monster, and cursed it. But perhaps Rowan could use this to his advantage.

“So it has dwelled in the labyrinth of underwater caves under the mountain. It has no name – for it forgot what it was called long ago, and those who meet it do not return home.”

Rowan stared directly at Emrys, his head cocked ever so slightly to the side. His chest ached slightly, the blood oath twisting as he pushed at its restrictions. Rowan glanced at Aelin, making sure she was listening, then asked, “Who was the warrior who carved out its eye?”

“The fool didn’t know, and neither did the beast. But the language it spoke was Fae – an archaic form of the Old Language, almost indecipherable. It could remember the gold ring he bore, but not what he looked like.”

Aelin started, her fingers reaching for the ring in her pocket. If she did not already understand, she soon would. The ring she bore was Athril’s, the sword Brannon’s. She would put it together, and could plan. Could figure out how to use this weapon he had given her – a weapon to bargain with.

It was all Rowan could do for her, all he could give her to defend herself against Maeve during their inevitable meeting. Perhaps, if she played her cards exactly right, Aelin could walk out of the city of rivers better off than she had entered it.

Rowan reached for a glass of water, the next dish in the long line of washing. He had forgotten just how mind-numbing the task was. But as he moved, the sleeve of his jacket shifted, and brushed against his throbbing wrists. The burns were even worse, the skin red and inflamed. He couldn’t hold in a wince, and he thought Aelin might have noticed.

But before either of them could say anything, Aelin to express remorse or Rowan to reject her sympathy, Emrys interrupted them, pinning Rowan down with a hard stare. “No more adventures.”

Instead of meeting the old male’s hard eyes, Rowan turned to look at Luca. Though the boy was indignant, his body tense with irritation at Emrys’ overprotectiveness, he was barely more than a child. And Rowan had nearly gotten him killed today.

“Agreed.”

But the old male didn’t back down. “And no more brawling.”

This time, Rowan met Aelin’s fierce gaze, uncertainty coursing through him. It felt as though he and Aelin had launched themselves over a cliff and into empty space, and he had no idea what the hell the bottom of the chasm would look like.

So he kept his face blank as he said, “We’ll try.”

···

Rowan went up to his rooms in silence, his every step burdened by the screaming pain in his wrists. But he refused to go the healers, nor to sneak into the storeroom where they kept their salves and tinctures. Or to heal the burns with his own magic.

Instead, he just trudged up the stairs, pushing open his door and collapsing on his bed, exhausted. He hadn’t slept last night, and the day had been long. Perhaps one of the longest of his very long life.

But sleep wouldn’t come.

His muscles refused to relax, his mind endlessly circling. The same images kept reappearing behind his eyes: Luca scrambling, his eyes wide with terror; the creature’s red eye appearing through the hole in the ice; and Aelin, standing barely inches from the lake monster, her shoulders set, half in a crouch, utterly defenseless but ready to protect the boy with her life if it proved necessary.

Aelin, not an assassin, but a warrior. A soldier.

Rowan lay awake on his bed for nearly an hour before he gave up and moved to sit in the chair beside the worktable. His fingers automatically reached for anything he could use to distract himself, and they happened upon the map of the western edge of Doranelle. The map of the area between Mistward and the sea, where the locations of each of the five dead demi-Fae were carefully marked.

But the ink swam before his eyes.

His wrists ached all the way down to the bones, but that wasn’t what distracted him. Instead he was thinking of the feeling of weightlessness that still coursed through him. As if he were falling, had lost his tether and was treading water, far out to sea. As if he were lost, and did not know the way.

Rowan didn’t think he’d known for a long while.

He’d wandered aimlessly for so long, traveling without stars or compass to guide him for so many years that he’d become numb to it. It hadn’t bothered him, the aimlessness, the purposelessness. He hadn’t even thought about it.

Now, it was as though a candle had been lit, the fog cleared. It was like he had been slowly brought back to consciousness after a long sleep, and now he had absolutely no idea where he was.

And all the while, Aelin’s fierce eyes, her smell, the very taste of her blood, echoed within him. A nagging, persistent reminder. I am here, I am here, I am here.

A soft knock at the door.

“What?” Rowan snapped, jerked from his brooding.

The door clicked open, allowing the intruder’s scent to waft into the small space. Once again, Aelin had decided to pay him a visit. It was like his thoughts had manifested her from the ether.

Only tonight, with this visit, Aelin’s scent was entwined with a faint, tentative guilt. A soft, cloying odor heavy on his tongue – like dust and rotten fruit. Entirely opposite to last nights’ intrusion.

She pushed the door open soundlessly, and made one short step into the small space. Rowan turned to face her as she took in every detail of his quarters, surprised to find that this time, he wasn’t infuriated by her imposition.

“What do you want?”

Aelin said nothing at first, her eyes roving over his bare chest, her face blank. She took in every detail of his tattoo, cataloguing his every scar. There was no desire in her gaze, only a mild curiosity. So Rowan tolerated her look, waiting until her gaze stopped to rest on the burns she’d given him, now aching red manacles around his wrists.

She tossed the salve to him. “I thought you might want this.”

He caught it with one hand, but his eyes remained on her. “I deserved it.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad.”

He turned the tin over and over between his fingers. He didn’t understand why she would care about his pain. “Is this a bribe?”

“Give it back, if you’re going to be a pain in my ass.” She held out her hand for the tin, but instead of handing it over, Rowan closed it in his fist, then set it on the worktable.

“You could heal yourself, you know. Heal me, too. Nothing major, but you have that gift.”

Aelin hesitated, her brow furrowed. “It’s – it’s the drop of water affinity I inherited from Mab’s line. My mother –” another pause, this time with a grimace of pain, “told me that the drop of water in my magic was my salvation – and sense of self-preservation.”

Rowan nodded, and she continued, “I wanted to learn to use it like the other healers – long ago, I mean. But never was allowed to. They said…well, it wouldn’t be all that useful, since I didn’t have much of it, and Queens don’t become healers.”

Aelin’s words tapered off, her gaze turned inwards, remembering. Rowan almost felt as though it was he who was intruding, though it was she who had come, uninvited, to his rooms twice in two days.

It was awkwardness that caused his next words to fall from his mouth, “Go to bed. Since you’re banned from the kitchen tomorrow, we’re training at dawn.”

Aelin turned without another word, but as she moved her scent filled with a deep ache, almost sorrow, and her ashes coated his throat.

Rowan had learned more about the princess this past day than he had in all of the previous weeks. Still, there was much to learn, much to uncover. But his picture of her was far more complete, far less impressionistic than it had been even yesterday.

She had given him a few of her truths, a few of the secrets she held close to her heart. And he had given her nothing in return. She knew nothing of him – not his age, his family, his purpose, his history. Rowan knew of some of the death that weighed on her heart, but she knew nothing of what weighed on his. Knew nothing of Lyria.

And it didn’t seem…fair, somehow. Didn’t seem like an even exchange.

Rowan felt that he owed Aelin, but it was more than that. He couldn’t bear for her to leave, for both of them to fall asleep that night, with these words still dammed up inside him. He couldn’t stand the thought of the princess not knowing, not understanding why. Rowan knew about her grief, but she had no idea that it was shared. That they both had been left alone.

So before Aelin could walk out of his room Rowan spoke.

“Wait. Shut the door.”

There was a pause, but then the door clicked, and Rowan heard the rustle of clothes and groan of wood as Aelin leaned against the entrance, waiting for him to speak.

He breathed deep. Once. Twice. Again.

“When my mate died, it took me a very, very long time to come back.”

A breath from behind him. “How long ago?” she asked.

“Two hundred three years, twenty-seven days ago.”

It was either fate or luck or the gods themselves that had Rowan first meet Aelin on the anniversary of Lyria’s death. Or maybe Maeve had planned it that way on purpose. He certainly wouldn’t put it past her.

Rowan gestured to his tattoo. “This tells the story of how it happened. Of the shame I’ll carry until my last breath.”

Cold understanding emanated from Aelin. “Others come to you to have their own grief and shame tattooed on them.”

“Gavriel lost three of his soldiers in an ambush in the northern mountains. They were slaughtered. He survived. For as long as he’s been a warrior, he’s tattooed himself with the names of those under his command who have fallen. But where the blame lies has little to do with the point of the markings.”

“Were you to blame?” a soft, level question. From one killer to another. Rowan turned slowly to face her, not quite all the way, but enough to give her a sidelong glance.

“Yes. When I was young, I was…ferocious in my efforts to win valor for myself and my bloodline. Wherever Maeve sent me on campaigns, I went. Along the way, I mated a female of our race. Lyria.”

It had been so long since he said her name aloud, so long since he spoke of her without someone flinching, or skirting around it, avoiding it like the plague. Afraid of Rowan’s reaction. But Aelin’s even gaze did not shift one inch.

“She sold flowers in the market in Doranelle. Maeve disapproved, but…when you meet your mate, there is nothing you can do to alter it. She was mine, and no one could tell me otherwise. Mating her cost me Maeve’s favor, and I still yearned so badly to prove myself. So when war came calling and Maeve offered me a chance to redeem myself, I took it. Lyria begged me not to go. But I was so arrogant, so misguided, that I left her at our mountain home and went off to war. I left her alone.”

For the first time, Rowan’s eyes met Aelin’s, and in them, Rowan could almost see her words from the previous night echoing through her mind. You left me.

Her face softened, but it wasn’t in pity. It was in understanding.

“I was gone for months, winning all that glory I so foolishly sought. And then we got word that our enemies had been secretly trying to gain entrance to Doranelle through the mountain passes.”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair, and scratched at his face. He had never given this story to anybody, had never needed to, and the words and images and memories cracked the ice in his veins and shot him through with acid.

“I flew home. As fast as I’d ever flown. When I got there, I found that…found she had been with child. And they had slaughtered her anyway, and burnt our house to cinders. When you lose a mate, you don’t …” he shook his head, his jaw clenched tight, his heart in his throat.

“I lost all sense of self, of time and place. I hunted them down, all the males who hurt her. I took a long while killing them. She was pregnant – had been pregnant since I’d left her. But I’d been so enamored with my own foolish agenda that I hadn’t scented it on her. I left my pregnant mate alone.”

Aelin’s voice broke as she asked him the question, that same question he had thrown at her in the woods that evening. “What did you do after you killed them?”

“For ten years, I did nothing. I vanished. I went mad. Beyond mad. I felt nothing at all. I just…left. I wandered the world, in and out of my forms, hardly marking the seasons, eating only when my hawk told me it needed to feed or it would die. I would have let myself die – except I…couldn’t bring myself …” the words trailed off, the memories almost overwhelming.

Rowan cleared his throat. “I might have stayed that way forever, but Maeve tracked me down. She said it was enough time spent in mourning, and that I was to serve her as prince and commander – to work with a handful of other warriors to protect the realm. It was the first time I had spoken to anyone since that day I found Lyria. The first time I’d heard my name – or remembered it.”

“So you went with her?” a wry question.

“I had nothing. No one. At that point, I hoped serving her might get me killed, and then I could see Lyria again. So when I returned to Doranelle, I wrote the story of my shame on my flesh. And then I bound myself to Maeve with the blood oath, and have served her since.”

They sat in silence for one long moment, both pulled deep within themselves. It was a companionable silence, one of shared grief and pain. A silence that Rowan had only ever shared with Gavriel.

Then Aelin spoke, her voice hesitant again. “How – how did you come back from that kind of loss?” Her face was open, her eyes wide. An honest, earnest question. One he had no answer to.

“I didn’t. For a long while I couldn’t. I think I’m still … not back. I might never be.”

Aelin nodded, her lips pressed tight, and glanced away from him and towards the window. Her scent roiled with that ancient grief, a sadness that marked her, aged her far beyond her years. Silver lined her eyes.

Rowan knew that her face was a mirror to his. That it always had been.

Aelin knew what is was to be crippled at your very core, understood the icy grief that coated his every word, his every step, because she had her own to match. And with that realization, with that inescapable truth, Rowan couldn’t help but trust her.

To trust this foreign princess with a small piece of his shattered heart. To trust that she would take it without grinding it into dust. That Aelin could see that deep, dark part of himself and would not look away from it. That perhaps, he no longer had to be so completely alone.

“But maybe,” the words escaped him quietly, softly. Aelin turned to look back at him. “Maybe we could find the way back together.”

“I think,” she said, “I would like that very much.”

The soft, tentative whisper was a brush of heat over his icy heart. The first rays of dawn over the snow-capped mountains. Deep in his chest, Rowan felt the aching warmth of hope yawn its golden head, the strongest he could remember feeling since the death of his mate.

Rowan held out his hand. “Together, then.”

For one small, infinite moment, Aelin hesitated, studying his hand intently. But then she reached out a small, scarred palm and took his outstretched hand in hers.

“Together,” she said, her voice defiant, yet soft.

Perhaps it was an illusion of the faint firelight, but as Aelin took his hand, Rowan thought he could see the gold in her eyes flicker and twitch, a living flame coaxed from slumber.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Ready or Not || Solo

From the Fool’s Gold POTW

Wait until you’re ready.

Right. Because that day was going to come. Sure, he was ready to have her out of his hair every waking moment, the times he was used to being alone, all that, but to never see his mother again?

Wait until you’re ready.

It was all that rang through his head the hike up to Hanging Rock. He thought about staying on the beach, get it over with. But there were too many people. He needed to be alone. Well, not alone, but alone enough where he could talk to a fucking ghost.

The small bird chips, the rustle of branches, the sort of ever present hum of nature usually settled him. Now he could only hear the crunch and harsh chips of the stones under his feat, the screech of a fucking seagull down the way, the violent crashes of the waves against the cliff. The last time he’d seen her prior to all this was now over half his life ago. It was hard to learn she’d been there this whole time. And he couldn’t see her touch her or hear her voice

Well he had two out of three now. For now.

Wait until you’re ready.

When he made it to the top of the trail and beyond, he sat there on the edge of the cliff watching the waves rise and fall. From up there, they looked calm, but he knew down there, if he were closer, he knew they were violent and angry, too harsh to swim in, hard to keep your head above water. But from up there, he could trick himself, pretend it was peaceful. Or some shit like that.

“Mon peititou,” he heard her before he saw her and he knew he wasn’t ready. He knew she’d show up eventually. She had to. But he hoped he could delay it a little longer. “Kaden?” His eyes fixed on the sun over the water. He couldn’t say how long he’d sat there, but the sun was lower and the shadows were longer. Probably wasn’t all that long until dark. She’d given him as much time as she could if it was going to be tonight.

“Maman?” He looked to his right and there she was, spectral shape exactly how he remembered form the last day he’d seen her and every day since he picked up that fucking coin. Brunette hair pulled back into a neat bun, blue eyes that mirrored his own, and the silver bullet necklace hanging from her neck. The very one he had tucked away in a box on his nightstand.

“We need to talk, mon peititou,” she replied. He couldn’t tell if it was sweetness or sadness in her voice, but it was soft and gentle.

“I know,” he said, turning back to face the water again. Looking at her was too hard. He could  already feel the tears threatening to make an appearance. Then it hit him, he wouldn't have much longer to look at her. Was it better or worse knowing he had a limited amount of time? Shit. He couldn’t say. Something about this stung worse in a way than it did before. The fact that this would be the second time he would lose his mother certainly didn’t make it easier.

He pulled air into his lungs, slowly, deep, and turned to face her, take her in. He looked at her and all he could see was a flash in his mind of hers and papa’s mangled bodies on the table. He could barely identify them. Focus. He shook it away, tried to rebuild the memory of her like this. He just had to do what they’d always taught him; just focus on what was right in front of him.

“I have things to tell you. Before I go.” If there had been the possibility of sweetness lingering before, it was gone now. It wasn’t harsh by any means, but she was all business. Suddenly he felt 15 again, listening to a lecture on monsters or getting instructions before training.

He scoffed “Might have been nice if you’d done that the first time.” He rolled his eyes and started taking small rocks and chucking them off the side of the cliff. It was so easy to fall back into that pattern of parent and petulant teenager. It was the last one they got to have.

Her eyes snapped on him, fire burning behind them. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Kaden. You’ve been slipping--”

“On my training,” he cut her off. “I know. You told me. Every day for the past week or so. Is there really nothing else you want to tell me? Really?” He turned to her, eyes pleading, searching for any sign of anything more. He was met with the same look he got after defeating his first vampire at age ten. He had expected to find pride, love, congratulations. Instead he saw cold acceptance and criticism. Lists of how to improve for next time. Blow by blows on how many times he nearly died. He turned away, back to the water. “I missed you, too, Maman,” his voice was barely a whisper as he took another rock and flung it off the edge of the world.

“I’ve been with you for over fifteen years, mon peititou, I hardly had time to miss you.” She gave her head a small shake. She sat so stiff and straight, head held high. “That’s not the point. The point i--”

“Of course it’s not the point,” he muttered under his breath.

“Speak up or don’t speak at all,” she scolded.

“I said, of course that’s not the point. But fine, what is the point? Please tell me.” How he resisted the urge to roll his eyes he didn't know.

“My point is that I’m worried for you.” Kaden met her eyes once more and thought he saw a flash of concern, true concern. It was gone as soon as it came. “You need to focus. Remember your duty, hone your skills. Remember why you came here. Stop getting distracted.” She shot daggers at the rock he was about to throw. He sheepishly lowered his arm and rolled the stones he had left in his palms, trying to make it seem like he’d planned that all along. Then released them back on to the ground next to him.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for almost sixteen years. Or did you forget?”

It was like what he said didn’t matter. He could have said anything at all and not a word of what she said next would have changed, he was sure of it. “And then there’s that woman you’re seeing. She’s not even a hun--”

“Don’t,” he cut her off before she could say what he knew was coming. “She's human. I checked.”

“For now,” she said, arms folded squarely across her chest.

“What does that even mean?”

His mother paused, lips pursed in that way he was all too familiar with. The answer was on her lips, she wanted to tell him, but she was disappointed he hadn't found it himself first. “Don’t make any promises you can’t keep.”

That sent his head spinning. What was she even talking about? Regan wasn’t fae. Did she mean Deirdre? He wasn’t seeing her. Wait, did she mean? He rolled his eyes. “Maman, that was a joke. I’m not marrying a fae.” His skin crawled at the thought.

“That is not what I meant, mon petitou. Think.” There it was, that same command she always gave. Think. Do. Fight. Be better. He sighed, rolling his eyes again, but he listened and ran through his min what she could be referring to. It had to be in reference to Deirdre still, right? If she was throwing around the word promisee like that. Did she mean the promises the banshee wanted; the promises to never hurt Regan? Even he wasn’t stupid enough for that. “Not now. You’ll figure it out.”

The words hung in the air and he waited for her to add some sort of encouragement or even just something more. Had he imagined it all these years when he heard his mother saying “you can do it,” “I know you can,” or any manner of remotely pleasant phrases? Had she ever said it once? He used to be so sure  but not anymore. The memories had been so washed out and re-tinted in his mind with a picturesque vintage vignetted filter. They were coming back to him in bright unflattering reality now. The edges were sharp and the flash was set far too high.

The light was leaving the sky. Red and pink hues were ready to give way to the dark black sky. “It’s time,” she said simply.

His hand dug into his pocket for the coin. A lump lodged in his throat and his eyes burned.

Wait until you’re ready.

The truth was if he waited until then, he’d never let go of the stupid coin in his hand. His thumb ran over the well worn surface. His vision started to blur and he clenched his jaw. He wasn't going to be like this. He’d mourned and said his goodbyes so many times over. Right? Yes. And he knew how she felt about tears. About outbursts. He could wait.

“Kaden, enough. I’ll still be here.” Tears spilled over, he couldn’t hold them back, no matter how much his teeth hurt trying to push them together to will the water back.

“It’s not the same,” he sniffed. Jagged pieces of rock dug into his hand as he gripped the edge of the rock he sat on with all his strength, pushing the pain into his palm with everything he could muster. Was she trying to make this easier? It didn’t feel like it.

“It’s not. But you’ll have to live with that.” He could chuck the fucking coin at her goddamn ghost head.

“Putain. Can’t you just say you love me or some shit like that?” he said, voice warbling at barely a whisper.

The words hung in the air a moment. For a beat, there was nothing but the sound of the waves crashing far below them. “Do you need me to tell you that to know it’s true?”

Yes. Inside, he screamed yes. Even if he knew it, just fucking saying it. Once. Out loud. He searched his mind and was there a single time he could remember his parents, either of them saying it? Had he made it up like so many other things?

Still, maybe she was right. She had stayed here with him for fifteen years. More than that, even, to make sure he was alright. That was love. That was more than could be held in a four letter word. It had to be.  

He sniffled and wiped his face with the back of his palm. “Au revoir, maman.”

“For now,” she said and placed her hand on his. Not that he could feel it. But that little bit of comfort, it was something. He looked at her one last time and ached to feel her hand on his. To give her a hug. But this would have to be good enough.

He didn’t look down as he dropped the coin. Just watched as her form faded away, back into his memories.

[inspirationdivine]

Dead Disappointed || Lydia & Deirdre

Deirdre grieves Janus’s death being uneventful, and the murder moms plan their next steps

@deathduty @kadavernagh @chasseurdeloup

Lydia didn’t know exactly what had happened. She didn’t understand the complex nuances of Bean-sí and their activation rituals - so she couldn’t fully understand what could have gone wrong. What she did understand was the crushing disappointment - both the opportunity to reach Regan and help her learn, as well as the more personal desire to not be alone. Lydia didn’t, and couldn’t fully understand what it was like to be a banshee anymore than Deirdre could understand being a muse. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t try, Lydia thought as she stepped into Faetal Attraction, her glamour dropping as she walked over to the bar. Sure enough, there was Deirdre at the bar. “Julia?” Lydia called, tapping Deirdre’s glass as she sat down. “Two more of these, please.”

How could she be so shortsighted? So foolish and so much of a failure? Deirdre thumped her forehead against the bar counter for what felt like the thousandth time that night, groaning into the polished wood. She'd been drunkenly mumbling about her failures for hours now, shooing away anyone that tried to comfort her. The sight of Lydia shot the banshee up, and she straightened her dress in an obvious desire to want to impress despite her tipsy state. "I wouldn't do that," Deirdre stared down into the watery remains of whatever was in her glass. "I can't remember what I ordered. Uh, probably just straight whiskey." She turned to Lydia, wondering if she'd scoff at that. What was the fancy fae's drink? Wine? Deirdre didn't care as long as it burned. "T-thank you for coming," she started, "it—Regan is—apparently, the janitor isn't even that close to her." She laughed darkly. 

“Oh, I can handle whiskey alright,” Lydia replied, raising her eyebrows. If a person could be the embodiment of a wilted plant, it was Deirdre right now, no matter how much she tried to straighten her dress. “You’re a friend, Deirdre, of course I’d come.” A small promise that she had no compunctions about keeping. Her chest sank at the news, but Lydia had few hesitations when it came to humans. “I’m so sorry darling. Is there anything we can do to try again?”

Despite herself, despite the situation, Deirdre laughed. Maybe it was hearing someone as poised as Lydia boast about her drinking abilities, or hearing her call them friends, but something was funny. The banshee hummed, turning back to her drink. The bartender swung back and presented the drinks asked for with a flourish. There was a human, the fae were fond of this one. It helped that she knew her place, on the other side of the bar, serving them. Everything was so conditional with her people...she imagined even this friendship that Lydia claimed worked that way too. Would it stop the moment Deirdre overstepped? Or did it last as long as she played her fae-part? “What do you think?” she sighed, turning to look at Lydia, “all she has to do is see someone close to her die. So, tell me what you think needs to be done, Lydia.”

Lydia took her whiskey gratefully, but her eyes didn’t even flicker from Deirdre to the bartender. It was hardly a second thought in her mind. Her only hesitation came from a small ache inside her. Deirdre had seen her feed, had understood the necessity of her species and her lifestyle. She understood that Lydia had no qualms about such things, but this was different. The banshee first scream was a time honoured tradition. There were rules and expectations as old as the seelie courts themselves. More than this, a human death in Lydia’s household served a purpose. This was death for death sake. Deirdre was already more understanding than most. Lydia didn’t want to lose this freshling friendship. “Well, darling, there are others she is close to. I know it isn’t traditional, but humans are… dispensable. Why couldn’t we arrange an unfortunate set of circumstances for Bo, or that onerous Kaden?”

Deirdre didn’t turn back to look at Lydia until she was sure the words were done, until there was nothing more the other woman could say. She was right. Her own mother had breathed the words down her neck. The purpose for their death could simply be the activation of a banshee, that alone was a great privilege. This was the most a human could ever be worth. She’d seen Lydia feed, and that too was more purpose to a human’s life than anything could be given. Lydia was the way a fae should be, each word and action seemed to solidify that more. “Kaden,” she rasped out, “it should be Kaden. Because she likes him and he’s---he’s not worthy of that, even if he wasn’t human. And he--he thinks of himself as better than us, and us as something to be exterminated.” But her drunken determination softened and her eyes searched Lydia’s for whatever courage it took her to not get sunk into the world of humans---to be the kind of fae that could do this without qualm. She had no sympathy for Kaden, only fear for Regan. “I’m a little---I’ve been trying to think of how. And--what if--what if she hates me for it? I don’t---I can’t push away the only other banshee in this town.” Regan would need her...or maybe it was the other way around? Deirdre didn’t know how to find the difference. 

Kaden was perfect, then. Lydia nodded as she listened to Deirdre. Two birds with one stone, it sounded like. She swallowed more whiskey, resting her head on her hand. “I think Regan might not be ready to know the entirety of this situation. Right now, all she needs to know is good death. In time, we can fill her in. Death can be arranged indirectly. The right promise in the right place…" Lydia trailed off. "If you like, I could organise the entire thing, so that even far down in the future, if she were to hate one of us, it wouldn't be her Banshee mentor."

“You’re right but---” Deirdre blinked, in a moment her lips parted and she didn’t have the sobriety to hide her astonishment. Guilt for thinking Lydia’s claim to friendship was disingenuous struck her and she reached out her hand, gently curling her fingers around Lydia’s wrist. “I...would never make you do that, Lydia. I mean, help me, please--” she laughed wryly, breaking into her first smile of the night. “But I take responsibility for my actions...for my plans. I won’t have her hate you. I’m not asking for that.” And Lydia was the proper fae, wasn’t she? Her more delicate touch might be the thing Regan needed more...in the end. Deirdre had a duty, and she accepted it. “But your help would...mean a lot. I’ll never be able to repay that, Lydia. I hope you don’t mind.” 

Lydia’s gaze drifted down to Deirdre hand on her wrist, that bone white skin stark in these lights against her own. After a moment, she clasped her other hand over Deirdre’s.  “In which case it’s a  good thing I’m not offering it as a loaned debt, but as a favour free of strings,” she replied, looking back up at Deirdre with a soft smile. “So come on then. Tonight we drink and feel sorry for ourselves. Tomorrow, we find someone to kill Kaden, and wake our lovely girl.”

“That’s worse,” Deirdre laughed softly, her eyes betrayed the softness that sat in her center. “I won’t make you take the blame, Lydia. Knowing Regan, she’d get the police sniffing around and...you don’t need that. I can do this. I’ll do it for you.” She left her hand in its spot, not daring to move it. How much time had she spent trying to impress fae like Lydia? Even if it was a fickle arrangement, she really did think of them as friends now. “Tonight we drink!” She finally pulled her hand back to down the rest of her drink, slamming it down with vigor. “Tomorrow we---uh, the other stuff you said!” She paused, “thank you, Lydia.”

[guksthighs]

Beauty and The Beast || jjk ( m )

Summary: When you were dragged to the beast’s castle you were expecting to be locked away, not to be greeted by luxury and the mysterious boy who you must sleep with every night - maybe it’s all just part of the curse.

Genre: fairytale!au, smut, fluff, angst

Length: 11.6k

A/N: i tried so so hard writing this so please shower me with copliments ;) but seriously i wrote this in a week and instead of getting a break i’m onto the next fairytale,, so please please PLEASE show me support and maybe some praise TT i won’t survive otherwise,,

The wind was fierce, howling and thrashing through the tall alpine trees, nipping at your cheeks and nose, you wished you’d realised it was warning you about what was to come. The sky was a lazy grey and as the branches creaked under the force of the wind and cold, a single snowflake fell from the sky and landed on your hand, melting instantly.

The snow was expected, and you smiled at its delicate descent only to have a shiver run up your spine as if someone was watching you. Before you could shout and ask if someone was out in the woods, the wind whipped up again, drowning out your voice.

Each step you took towards the golden glow of your cottage reminded you of the dull ache in your legs from a day of hunting but readjusting the two rabbits you had managed to catch on your back, you continued to walk home knowing your brothers would be hungry and worried.

A scream shattered the silence and the door to your small cottage swung open to reveal Jin, yelling your name and your feet that had felt frozen in place began to move as you sprinted to the house, arm already reaching to your back to pull your curved hunting knife from its sheath.

The thought of Hoseok’s vulnerability from whatever had scared Jin, stuck in his bed with his usually glowing tanned skin flushed from the fever he seemed unable to shake scared you. As you leapt over the stone wall surrounding the house, the sight of your elder brother collapsing on the ground, still screaming your name filled your heart with fear you had yet to truly know.

It was just as you reached Jin, scooping him up and squeezing him into a hug, tears streaming your face pushing him away to check he wasn’t injured that a low rumble of laughter caused you to grab Jin by the hand and push him behind you.

“Human, this little girl cannot protect you,” a monster, no, a beast, the size of a horse, towered in front of you with wolfish features and an amused lilt to his voice, “I’ll leave you in peace when I find out which one of you killed him.”

Him. It was clear what the beast was talking about, the huge bear that had lumbered into your sights whilst you were hunting, instantly you knew it had to be a fae or from that realm, as no normal animal was that large. And it was in a fit of blind rage that you had shot it, rage from what they had done to your father. As the arrow pierced its eye, you had no thoughts of regret, until you dragged it into the garden of your cottage.

Jin had shrieked, confirming it was one of them and then warning you to not venture as deep into the forest again because you had turned the forest against you. And now, this beast was here to collect his debt, which was most likely going to be your life because the fae were a race who enjoyed the old cliches.

An eye for an eye and a life for a life.

Now, with the memory fresh in your mind and your heart full of emotion, you walked past the beast. He laughed at your poor attempt to try and hide the fear that was written in the shaking of your hands and the fast beat of your heart, your feet stuttered as your eyes landed on Hoseok, he smiled at you and eased himself into a sitting position, “you’re back early.”

“I should have been back sooner,” with your head hung, you moved forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, pretending that you didn’t wince at just how hot it was beneath your lips before you turned to face the intruder within your house.

The fae’s eyes shone bright green before he growled and slammed his hand into the table, the one your father would tap and tell you how it had been passed down generations of his family. Now you winced as the wood splintered under his giant paw, claws sinking into the wood before another rumble echoed around the little cottage, “who killed him or I will kill you all starting with the one who dares use his fur as a blanket.”

Your hand smoothed over the brown fur that covered Hoseok before you stood and sheathed the sword to accept your fate with open hands, “it was me.” You wondered if they would survive without you, the map of traps you had laid out were up to date and Jin often sold his rabbit stew for much more than the ingredients cost, you were sure they would make it without you.

The beast walked towards you, his eyes unreadable until his hand landed on your head, you waited for him to crush it under your hands which was when you ducked out of his grip, “if you are to kill me please do it outside so my brother’s don’t have to clean it up.”

“Although I do kill liars, I can tell you’re only trying to protect them,” he bent down, the floorboards creaked under his feet as he looked into your eyes, “Which boy killed him?” The beast smelled of the pine woods and fresh air, you closed your eyes wondering if all fae were so sexist as you shook your head.

“I killed him,” your voice was stronger than you meant it to be and the beast, in turn, gritted his teeth at what he thought was your continued insolence, his foot began to tap on the floor as he pushed you into the wall to grab Hoseok by the shoulders.

Your brother broke into a coughing fit, weakly looking into the eyes of the beast as it growled a question, “it was you, cursed with an illness befitting the murderer of a fae.” Hoseok smiled and nodded his head and you looked away as the tears began to stream down your face unsure of what to do.

“I killed the bear,” Hoseok whimpered as he was picked up by his neck, choking and clawing at those huge claws as Jin sunk to his knees again, head in his hands as his shoulders shook with tears. You felt the tears roll down your cheeks, but wiping them on the back of your arm, you grabbed your bow from your back, pulling an arrow from the quiver before lining it up with the beast in your sights.

An arrow flew past the beast’s ears, close enough to nick one of them, making him turn and face you, “Let my brother go.” Hoseok opened his eyes to shake his head, he was ready to sacrifice himself for you but that wasn’t going to happen as you pulled another arrow and aimed right at his heart.

“So it was you, impertinent, stupid, disrespectful little human girl,” he dropped your brother, storming towards you to grab your bow, clenching his fist around it and ripping it from your grip to toss it away. “It really was you who killed him and instead of apologising you try to kill me?”

Jin who had moved to stand in front of Hoseok, knowing his ability to protect you from this was rapidly slipping away coughed awkwardly, “if she had wanted to kill you, she would have.”

“What trust you have in her,” he grabbed the rabbits that were still tightly tied to your back and observed them, looking for where you arrow had pierced their skin before nodding in agreement, “so you’re a good shot.”

Each rabbit was without a wound, your arrow having pierced an eye to ease removing it as well as them selling for more when not baring the taste of bitter steel arrowheads.

Claws curled into the wool of your top, as he dragged you outside, dropping you on the floor. As he inspected you, the vibrant green of his eyes in the night sent a chill, you hoped he would assume it was because of the cold wind that whipped at your hair.

“Did he die quickly?” Suddenly the beast looked smaller, his shoulders slouched and his eyes creased with a worry you were surprised to see. You nodded quickly, his death should have been relatively painless, “I was going to kill you. Fae law is a life for a life, as you probably know.”

The wind howled, window panes rattling slightly and as the scent of a lit fire greeted your nose, you felt ready to die, tilting your chin up to look at him with a defiant smile, “I accept your law.”

He scooped you up in one hand, “then your life is mine.”

+

+

“Wait, explain this all one more time?” you asked, sitting on an ornate golden chair in what you assumed to be the dining room. The room was incomparable to what you’d seen before, intricate carvings covered the ceiling, their raised edges covered in gold and you smiled when you thought about that ceiling in your own house, low enough for you to stand, reach a hand up and stroke.

But you weren’t in that cottage anymore, with the golden glow of the lamps warming you when the fire couldn’t. You were sitting in the house of the beast that had abducted you, instead of just killing you when he had threatened to.

Instead, you fixed your glare on the wolf-like creature that was still looming in the doorway, as if challenging him to say something. But ever since you had awoken in the chair, the beast had not said a word.

That annoyed you and without thinking you clutched the sides of your chair and stood up, moving to storm out of another exit until what felt like an invisible rope wrapped around your waist and dragged you into the chair. When you tried to get up it held you there, and you wondered if you could throw the fork at his face from where you were seated.

“You will eat girl,” the beast rumbled from the other side of the room, his hair standing up and making him look even more threatening. You struggled in the chair wondering if perhaps you should try and attack him instead until the boy across the table cleared his throat.

Taehyung, the first person you had seen after awakening who had quickly explained that you were in the realm of the fae and where indeed in the house of the ‘beast’. When you’d tried to throw your knife at him, assuming he was the beast, Taehyung jumped so hard he fell from his chair before he introduced himself as a member of the court.

Now he seemed to be trying to break your intense gaze, seething with hatred at the beast that stood silently in the doorway of the dining room. “The food will get cold,” Taehyung smiled and began to eat, his clothes were beautiful and you assumed he held a high position in this house. His brown hair seemed to shine in the light of the candle, set between you and him seemed such a stark contrast from the beast who fixed you with one last hard stare before walking to the huge window, placing a paw against the glass and focusing his attention away from you.

Your relief allowed you to finally take in your surroundings; the plate seemed to be made out of porcelain, delicate and fragile compared to the wooden ones at home and the food smelled so good it was a miracle you weren’t drooling. Instead of gazing at the array of vegetables on your plate, like the carrots that were stupidly expensive for you, you fixed the back of the beast’s head with a stare, “is he always like that?”

“Only when he’s angry,” Taehyung laughed and pointed his fork at you, mock whispering, “how did you survive his wrath?” He seemed amused as you shrugged and continued to push the food around your plate in a rebellion to just follow his demands. In fact, the more you thought about it the more you wished he had just killed you outside the cottage instead of knocking you unconscious to have you as some sort of prisoner.

Taehyung coughed when he saw you struggle again as you tried to get up, feet kicking the table as you tried to topple the chair, “be careful miss! you’ll hurt yourself!” He leapt to his feet and just as he was about to stop you, his eyes widened and he slowly sat back down.

The beast turned from gazing out of the window, a low threatening growl caused you to halt your movements and stare wide-eyed at him, Taehyung leant forward and prodded you, “don’t scream no matter what you’re about to see.”

The brown, glossy fur seemed to melt off the creature’s body, revealing tanned skin and his bright green eyes faded to a deep bark coloured brown. Soon enough there was no trace that a beast had been standing at the window, replaced by a boy with eye-catching good looks.

HIs black hair was the only feature that seemed to bear a resemblance to the black wolfish beast that had stood in front of you mere moments before, it was swept up as if he had just run his hands through it and the dark blue of his jacket fit his athletic frame perfectly. You flushed when he met your eyes and smirked, “so you prefer me like this?”

He walked towards you, a slow amble that was so self-assured you wished you could get out of the chair just to tackle him and prove he wasn’t as untouchable as he seemed to believe. With a quirk of his eyebrow at your frown, his voice seemed to take on a new, lower and more sultry tone, “I don’t blame you little lamb.”

“Jeongguk!” Taehyung exclaimed, before cowering back slightly in his chair when Jeongguk sent a look of warning to his friend, “Sir, you shouldn’t aggravate her further.” Instead of looking up and thanking Taehyung for trying to defend you, your gaze returned to the food on your plate which you pushed around the plate. Instead of looking at the man standing behind you that was so handsome it seemed impossible, you mused about it being another fae trick.

The beast, or Jeongguk as Taehyung had called him came and sat down next to you, turning his seat so he could look at you easier, “is there a reason why you aren’t eating?” He smiled at you when you began to cut up the food into pieces, “would you prefer it if we asked the cooks to make some slop? Or rabbit meat and stale bread like you have at home?”

You slammed your fist into the table causing Taehyung to jump but Jeongguk laughed and placed a hand over yours, squeezing it causing your face to heat up in embarrassment, “how about you eat some food little lamb, I bet one taste is all it will take for you to understand why fae food is revered for being the best.”

The weight of the metal cutlery in your hands was heavy, squeezing it you tried to get rid of the anger that was bubbling away until you slammed your hand down, next to the plate, “I wish you’d just killed me.”

Jeongguk hummed, his lips enclosing around a bite of food before turning to meet your ice cold stare, “I think I was merciful,” he looked at Taehyung for confirmation, which the younger boy gave him with a quick nod of his head before staring back at his plate.

“You’re just selfish,” you replied, hands gripping the tablecloth as you tried to stop the anger that was making your vision blur, “you fae all think you’re so much better than us. Especially me, a little human girl, god maybe I should have shot you when I had the opportunity like I did that stupid bear.”

Jeongguk’s hands clutched at the side of the table and you watched in interest as his fingers became covered in fur, returning to the paws of the beast that you were far from forgetting resided within him. Just as you watched his claws sink into the wood, Taehyung cleared his throat and Jeongguk’s hands returned to normal.

“You should really start eating Y/N,” Taehyung pushed your plate forward and smiled at you, a huge grin that drew a smile from you until you glanced down at your plate, wondering what they had hidden in the food.

You were reminded of the story of Persephone and Hades, you had been young then, perched next to Hoseok on your father’s lap as he smiled down at the two of you, a ghost of what he had been like before crossed his face until it turned deadly serious. Your father had always been the best at weaving stories full of magic and as he described how the King of Hell had fallen in love with the pretty flower girl Persephone, dragging her into the dark depths of hell and to punish him, she refused to eat or drink. Her mother had refused to let the crops grow until her daughter returned, and so Zeus released Persephone.

But, and you remember your father grabbing your shoulder to make you jump as he whispered, “the girl had done a naughty thing. Eating six small seeds of a pomegranate she was condemned to live in the Underworld for a third of each year which is why we get so cold.” You had tugged at his shirt asking why she would do it and your father had shrugged, kissing your head and telling you not to worry because Fae food tasted the worst.

The sound of metal tapping against your plate brought you back to the present, leaving you to wonder if your father would believe you if you could tell him how good the fae food looked, and smelt. Your father who’s obsession with fae had followed his mysterious disappearance, but you didn’t want to think about the nights you’d catch him staring at the fire, tears sliding down his cheeks as he would ask himself what he had done.

“There’s a reason why you aren’t eating it,” Taehyung mused, tapping on your plate again to watch your reaction. Your eyes widened and you grimaced slightly, as you pushed the plate forward and further away from you, hoping someone would take it away from you.

Instead, Jeongguk lent forward and picked up your fork, scooping a large helping of meat and vegetables up and then eating it. The look on his eyes as he chewed alerted you to just how delicious it was and when he didn’t fall down dead, you grabbed the fork from his hands and moved to eat.

“Why would I poison you now?” Jeongguk questioned just as the metal of the fork touched your lip resulting in you placing it back on the plate, laden with food and frowning at him. He smirked, “suddenly you don’t want to die?”

Before your brain could think of another story to warn you against what you were about to do, you shovelled the food into your mouth, biting your lip as the flavours exploded on your tongue and a moan of appreciation threatened at your lips.

Jeongguk smacked your thigh, before standing and smirking at you, “welcome to hell, my own little Persephone.”

+

+

The sound of footsteps echoed around the large marble hallways, bouncing off the dark blue walls and adding another layer of mystery to your adventures, to your exploring with the floor cold beneath your feet and the certainty of a trail of mud following wherever you went, your motivation for exploring the fae mansion continued to be kindled.

Although your ultimate intentions were to escape and return to your family, you had a feeling that having a rough mental map of the house and later the grounds, would help you in planning an escape. As you passed the golden handles of doors you were sure had nothing behind them, you heard a new pair of footsteps approach you from behind.

“Please stop!” Taehyung called, following you whilst desperately grabbing a handful of your top and then tugging on it repeatedly to try and slow you down.

When you came to a halt he breathed a sigh of relief instantly beginning to lecture you about running around without an escort to prevent you from going anywhere you weren’t meant to be. But your eyes and mind were occupied with the intricate carvings surrounding the fireplace you had stopped at, placing a hand delicately to the wood you decided it was from an oak, a tree only found in the realm of the fae now.

There were small characters with pointed ears dancing up the pillar, a huge beast in the middle of their circle and then in the centre of the mantelpiece, the carving of that same beast kneeling with a smaller figure pressing their lips to his head. Before you could continue looking at the story that was being depicted on that piece of wood, Taehyung cupped your face and forced you to look at him.

“We need to leave,” his eyebrows were furrowed, glancing around frantically before holding your hand and beginning to tug you back down the corridor you had just walked down, “Jeongguk said not to come in the East Wing and of course,” he glanced back at your petulant expression, “of course the little human goes straight to the East Wing.”

You grinned and tried to pull your hand out of his grip, “why can’t i be here?” You questioned, standing firmly and not budging with the intent of finding out something interesting.

Taehyung looked frazzled, hair no longer perfectly groomed as he tried to pull you away from the hallway that ended in a pair of majestic wooden doors, your fingers itched to wrap around the handle and tug it open.

“I knew I’d find you here,” Jeongguk laughed when Taehyung yelped, dropping your hand and instead of taking up position standing slightly in front of you as if you protect you from something - or someone. He noticed this, tilting his chin up at Taehyung with a teeth-baring smile, “stop worrying Tae, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“Stop making me worry then,” the older boy replied, running a hand through his hair before pouting at Jeongguk and having spared one glance at you, he walked away leaving you at the mercy of your captor, again. It was a painful repetition of you being at Jeongguk’s mercy over and over and it was getting annoying.

Even so, Jeongguk had been surprisingly calm having found you in the forbidden East Wing and you were surprised by his reaction, a hand landing on your forearm and squeezing it brought you back to the future, “I’m taking you to the library, I need to explain a few things.”

Jeongguk’s palm was hot, wrapped around your arm as he dragged you away from that grand door, “so you’re planning your escape?” he mused aloud, glancing back at you to smirk when your eyes widened and you stared at the floor, a thick blush dusting your features.

“I was admiring the carving on those oak panels,” you replied, watching him slow down so he could walk in sync with you, admiring you insolence whilst you appreciated his features. Jeongguk had a face so perfect it had to be fae; the sharp jawline and those eyes, the colour of a tree’s old bark that most likely held as many stories. You continued to stare until that eyebrow quirk warned you that Jeongguk was aware of what you were up to.

His heart-shaped lips stretched into a smile, “you listened better when I was in my other form.” Jeongguk laughed, letting go of your arm and taking your hand instead to drag you through a door, whilst you coughed at his comment.

“Who wouldn’t listen to something with the ability to rip their throat out?” your voice stuttered to a halt when you took in where you were standing. You felt so small as you surveyed the shelves surrounding you and covering every wall, “there can’t be this many books.”

Jeongguk choked a laugh, already walking down the stairs as he stopped and turned to look at you, watching as you wiped at your eyes, wondering if you were about to cry, “times like these I wish I’d listened when Jin taught me and Hoseok how to read.” You grinned at Jeongguk before running down the stairs, embarrassed by your accidental display of vulnerability, especially to your captor.

And you had meant it, because whilst you had been outside learning how to set rabbit traps and shoot an arrow, Jin had taught Hoseok how to read and write, how to use the wisdom of others to inform how you live your life.

It felt like you had wasted so much time, and now, living in a realm where time was practically non-existent for the fae who lived hundreds of years longer than a human, you wondered if you were being given a second chance.

“I can teach you?” Jeongguk questioned, he was sitting in a low leather seat, one leg crossed over the other whilst gazing at you, obviously watching as you had skimmed your fingers across the spines of the books. He seemed to sense your hesitation, “I know how to read and write the human language, as well as fae, your father was able to do the same.”

For a second you were tempted to let your anger and frustration at the situation you were in getting the better of you, clutching your hand until a fist was formed at the mention of your father. Then your mind filled with thoughts of Jin and Hoseok in that small cabin and exhaled. “Don’t talk about my family so casually, but I guess it’ll help me kill time.”

Jeongguk placed both feet on the floor, leaning back in his chair and before you could think about the implications, your gaze fell on him with a build so different to both of your brothers and more similar to the warriors who would pass through the village every now and then. One of whom had thighs almost identical to Jeongguk’s and you had spent one of the hottest night of your life with Jimin.

“What have you got there?” Jeongguk asked, snapping you from your lust filled memories to stare down at the book in your hands, opening it softly as you worried that you might rip it. He stood behind you and watched as you began to turn through the pages, staring in awe at the illustrations on each page and for a second you let the feeling of his breath brushing against your neck, calm your confused mind.

Until you realised where you were, why you were there and jumped away from Jeongguk, brandishing the book as if it were a weapon, managing to ask, “why are you so comfortable with me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, “humans don’t scare me, they are merely small annoyances.”

The book fell from your hands, “why didn’t you kill me?” His hospitality had been endless since that first mouthful of food and your eyes widened as you began to back away, “what am I doing here?”

“This is all a bit sudden,” Jeongguk laughed, bending over to retrieve the fallen book and tap your head lightly with it, “what’s ruffled your feathers now?” But you shook your head, trying to think why a fae who had no interest in humans would spare your life but then bring you back to live with him. Your father had told you that fae always had a motive; was his to make himself feel better? Or something more sinister?

Your heart was racing as Jeongguk placed a hand above your head and leant into your neck, taking a long inhale before smiling at you, “I made a promise to never kill a human and why would I kill the mistress of this house?”

“Mistress?” You tried to duck out of the cage he had created with his muscular arms but to no avail, as Jeongguk licked his lower lip before smiling at you and pulling away from his hands, sauntering back to his seat.

“I called you Persephone, didn’t I?” you nodded cautiously and walked to sit on the window seat which was far enough from Jeongguk that you could hear him but still feel safe, “Persephone was the mistress of hell because she ate the food. When you ate the food I offered you, it sealed a fae contract that you not only belong to this house but are its rightful mistress.”

“How can someone you’ve never met before be called rightful?” you ventured, smiling to yourself at just how blind and ignorant you had been, trusting a fae, you tried not to laugh at your own idiocy.

“Magic?” Jeongguk gave you a goofy smile but nothing about your situation felt funny, only worrying.

+

+

“Then I’ll just lock the door,” you grumbled listening to the laughter of the man behind you as he opened one of the pastel coloured boxes surrounding your new bed,

His name was Yoongi and he had greeted you with a sullen glare when Taehyung had taken you to your room for the night. It was Yoongi who had told you with a smirk that there were no female servants in the house and that he was your appointed guard.

“A mere iron lock is not going to stop a fae from entering your room,” Yoongi replied, pulling out a long white dress and grinning to himself as he laid it on the bed as if to point out that you were to sleep in.

“If he touches me, I’ll kick him.” you replied, folding your arms over your chest and watching as Yoongi shrugged at your comment, deciding that wasn’t the reaction you were looking for, you threw yourself against the bed, “or I’ll push the wardrobe in front of the door so he can’t even open it.”

“A better plan, but still no good. You have to sleep in the same bed as the Master, or else the consequences could kill you.” The boy’s dirty blonde hair looked like he’d been sleeping before you’d seen him and you frowned at his words but didn’t bother questioning him like you had done relentlessly when he had first explained your sleeping arrangements in the fae household.

“Yoongi!” you shouted, sitting up so quickly your head ached with pain, “you said I had to sleep with him.” When Yoongi had first mentioned it, lighting the fire at the end of your room, you thought you were going to vomit. The idea that Jeongguk was going to force himself upon you, ruined any image of him being a better fae than you had first thought until just now.

“With. Next to. Same thing.” Yoongi grunted, grabbing your wrist and hauling you off the bed so he could pull back the multiple layers of blankets and covers so you would be able to get in when he left.

However, you turned and climbed onto the bed, bouncing on the mattress that felt impossibly soft before stopping to point at him, “That’s where you’re wrong!” So wrong, maybe Jeongguk wasn’t as bad as the beast he transformed into would suggest, that there was a small chance he was a nice guy. But then you thought about this weird condition that you were to sleep in the same bed as him and held your face in your cold hands to try and calm the raging blush on your face.

Yoongi grabbed your ankle and tugged to pull you back into the future, handing you the dress and watching as your eyes widened as you felt the softness of the fabric between your fingers, Yoongi grunted, “Can you stop complaining and get changed?”

“I wish he’d killed me.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, “But then he would’ve broken his promise and unlike you lying humans, Fae are bound by their word.”

The beginnings of a plan began to formulate in your mind as you started to shove Yoongi out of the room, if fae were bound to their word then you would make sure that Jeongguk would never come back to your room. Although it was if Yoongi had read your mind when he turned and grinned, “Jeongguk has to be in your room, he’s cloaking your presence from the other fae who might come and steal you,” he paused for dramatic effect which you sniggered at, “Or eat you.”

“Then why would he keep me here?” your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of the confusing situation you were in, hands resting in your lap as you fiddled with your fingers trying to make sense of everything.

“Tae told me you accepted fae law, so Jeongguk can’t kill you due to his promise but you have to pay for your murder so here you are.” You laughed in disbelief at Yoongi’s blunt explanation, although that was most likely why you had already taken a shine to him and just before Yoongi shut the door his face returned to being serious, “you cannot turn the light on when he is here.”

+

+

It was stupid to be daydreaming about your captor but you could tell that he was more than the rude and aggressive beast, he had first come across as. Obviously, he was more civilised than you, but offering to teach you to read was something that still made your heart race at the thought.

Then there were the boxes Yoongi had been rummaging through earlier; presents from Jeongguk. Each one contained an exquisite dress, as well as pairs of sparkling shoes and on your nightstand laid jewels that would have put the stars that twinkled in the sky to shame.

If you didn’t know better you would have fallen for his pathetic attempt at bribing.

It was something you had been subject to before, and although the dresses were beautiful, you had seen similar when Jimin had tried courting you by trying to buy every expensive piece of jewellery and clothing he could find. Although your clothes were old and stained, it was a decision of utility rather than beauty to wear them. So it amused you to see that even the fae tried to use those silly attempts to win the affection of a woman.

You sat up in your bed, crossing your arms as you looked around the pitch black room wondering how you had managed to get swept up in the luxury so quickly. With a shake of your head, you slid out of the bed and laid on the floor, the carpet still cushioning your back and making it more comfortable than your hay stuffed mattress.

But it reminded you that there was no way you were staying in this house, full of fae and sleeping in a bed next to the person with the capability to turn into a beast for long. It didn’t matter that something about Jeongguk made you feel safe, he was still your captor and you refused to let your heart race anymore thinking about the soft smiles he gave you today or the times you would turn to find him watching.

With a yawn, you wondered if there had actually been something in the food after all. A weird fae curse that made people lose their ability to think rationally but you were going to keep fighting for your freedom until you got it back.

Sleep came to you quickly, a long day that had started waking to the morning sun streaming through fae windows, meals you were forced to eat and now with your soul yearning for your brothers and your heart confused.

+

+

The gardens were your favourite part of the house, so different to the small, cramped one surrounding your cottage, this one was practically endless. The high hedges were perfect for hiding behind and escaping meals, preferring to grab a few slices of bread and cold meat from the kitchen than to dine with Jeongguk and any visitors who he deigned to invite and show you off like a prize.

It had been a few days after you had arrived that you awoke to Jeongguk standing in your room, holding a piece of fabric that looked like someone had cut it from the night sky, although it was only dark blue fabric with small diamonds on it that created this illusion. You had teased him that you would only wear the real night-sky as a dress and he had rolled his eyes and told you to get dressed.

This had ground your gears and you had sat on your floor refusing to move until Jeongguk gave you something in exchange, which he argued was the dress itself but you shook your head, asking for more freedom than just being able to walk around the house that was beginning to feel cramped.

That was how, having met his favourite musician, Kim Namjoon and listening to the pretty melodies he played on the piano, were you allowed, two weeks later to go in the garden. The two weeks had been full of language lessons and when you could finally read, Jeongguk allowed you to explore the gardens.

Ever since he had allowed you outside, you returned home to collapse on your floor, exhausted from a day exploring the garden and trying to find the boundary. Each morning you would awake to the soft mattress of the four poster bed and look around to find no trace of Jeongguk, just a red rose petal on his pillow.

The petal, you assumed, came from the rose bush you had just wondered upon, sitting in front of them to admire the brilliant scarlet red against the vibrant green of their leaves. The green reminded you of those wild eyes you had first seen when you met Jeongguk and a shiver ran down your spine at the memory, he had been so filled with rage.

Reaching out, you cupped a flower in your hand, yelping in surprise when a thorn caught your finger, blood welling to the cut. You decided it would be safer to keep a distance, pulling a book from your bag and reading aloud to them until a low voice interrupted you, “do you like my roses?”

“Who wouldn’t?” you replied to Jeongguk, leaning forward to smell the closest one whilst trying to hide your book within the folds of your trousers. But to no avail, as he sat down next to you, giving you that wide, innocent smile and retrieved the book.

“So you’ll read to my roses but not to me?” Jeongguk wasn’t wearing his usual formal wear and the loose fitting pants suited him, you wondered what he had been up to before managing to find you in the depths of the garden. “It’s okay,” he reached a handover and ruffled your head before standing and going to leave, “I talk to them too.”

“Wait!” you had leapt to your feet and now your hand was wrapped around Jeongguk’s wrist before you could really think through all the implications of what you had just done, he grabbed your hand and pulled you down to the grass to sit back down.

Jeongguk looked down at where you were still allowing him to hold your hand, eyes wide before he looked up at you with a smile so bright his eyes seemed to shine, “this is the first time you’ve let me touch you!”

You frowned at his suggestive sentence, blushing and trying to tug back your hand but not before he raised it to his hand and pressed a soft kiss to it, “there’s so much that you don’t know, you’re more important to me than you could ever know.”

“You sound super creepy right now,” you shuffled away from him with a laugh as Jeongguk blushed, shaking his head slightly in a rare show of embarrassment.

The fae boy fell back on the grass, staring up at the blue sky and let his forearm fall across his eyes, “I wish we didn’t have to meet the way we did.”

When you thought back to that afternoon with Jeongguk, lounging on the grass as you kept reading to the roses, your mind would wonder why he had looked so sad, as if he were on the verge of tears. Why was it that his vulnerability only made you safer near him? Was it merely a fae trick to manipulate you?

You would shake your head because no man, or fae could act that raw sadness in those deep brown eyes. Melancholy is not an emotion that is easy to pretend.

+

+

“Look who’s sleeping in the bed tonight,” Jeongguk laugh filled the dark room and you heaved a sigh in reply, shifting to get out until his hand grabbed your wrist, softly asking the question, “stay?”

That surprise vulnerability, again.

It was if someone had set a spark in you, pulling Jeongguk’s hand to your mouth where you placed a kiss to his palm, “if I stay, do I get a reward?” Although there were no lights on in the room, the moon shone through the blinds allowing you to see the smirk that spread across Jeongguk’s face as his voice lowered and he pushed you onto your back, pushing your hand above your head.

“Little lamb,” he dipped his head into the curve of your neck, breathing in before pulling away again, “do you know how tempting you’re being right now?” His voice sent chills down your back and your thighs rubbed together with need at the husky tone it had taken on.

Jeongguk was offering you a choice, he was warning you of what was to come and you blinked, stupidly overwhelmed as you felt his breath against your lips and squeezing your eyes shut, you lifted your head up to kiss him.

He pulled away to suck on your bottom lip, nipping at it slightly before pulling away, “princess, you don’t have to do this.” Jeongguk’s lips began to work at your neck, teeth grazing your jawline as he felt your body respond beneath him.

“I want it,” you whispered, your hand moving up his back, feeling the muscles move underneath your hands before your wove your fingers in his hair and tugged so he was no longer biting hickies into your neck and gasped against his lips, “I want you.”

“Say that again,” Jeongguk brought his knee between your legs, using it to keep your thighs apart and you knew he would be smirking when with a small gasp you ground into the hard muscle of his leg. “Come on princess, who do you want?”

“You,” you moaned as one of his hand came up to cup your breast over the thin fabric of your night dress, squeezing at the flesh before he pressed another kiss to your jaw, hot breath fanning across your neck and causing pleasure to wash over your body.

Jeongguk moved his knee up, allowing you easier access to grind into it and he pulled his lips away from your neck with a small laugh, “such a dirty little lamb,” your hands reached up, blindly trying to find his face in the dark, which you did and used your hold on his neck to pull his head down. But he laughed and instead of kissing you the way you wanted, he licked a strip of your cheek, “you’re quite needy tonight aren’t you?”

“Are you always like this?” His hands began to trace down your body, his mouth attaching to your nipple through the thin fabric of the dress and nipping at the raised flesh, “who knew you would be so sensitive.”

Something about his words were hypnotic, causing you to let go of any semblance of control and allowing your moans to speak for you, falling from your mouth with each brush of his hand or well-placed kiss and nip on your stomach. He continued working down until he reached the bottom of your dress, tugging on it slightly as if to draw your attention back to him, “princess?”

“Jeongguk,” you replied mockingly until he pushed up your skirt and dragged a finger up and down your inner thigh, dangerously near the area that if he touched, would cause you to lose any chance of a rational thought.

You weren’t wearing any panties, and it seemed Jeongguk knew this as he pressed a kiss to your thigh, positioning himself between your thighs being kept open by his strong grip. Gasping you squirmed as he ran a finger through your folds, he was teasing you and the low tone of his voice confirmed this, “don’t be so formal.” You huffed in response until his fingers found purchase on that small button of nerves and gave it a tight squeeze, causing your legs to tense as your back arched in a mixture of pure pain and pleasure, “you won’t call me Jeongguk again, here me princess?”

He let go and you sighed, worried by how close you had been to orgasming from one touch, managing to stutter, “Y-Yes,” as he went back to pressing kisses to your thighs and stomach.

This answer however made Jeongguk growl, hand reaching up to take your pert nipple in his hand and roll it between his fingers, “yes what?”  A dozen ideas of how to tease him arose in your mind, Jimin had moaned when you called him Daddy and you’d slept with men who enjoyed an array of nicknames: master, sir, prince.

A gentle squeeze of your thigh brought you back to the present and you closed your eyes in embarrassment, “yes Gukkie.” Jeongguk let out a girlish squeal and you burst into laughter, blindly reaching out for his head and weaving your hands through his hair before tugging it bashfully.

“You’ve never called me Gukkie!” He laughed and kissed you, moved his lips against yours with so much passion and you laughed against his lips, “it’s not even a sexy nickname but I’ll take it!” Jeongguk was obviously excited and you felt overwhelmed with adoration for the boy, who went from sexy and dominating to behaving like a little child.

But the more he kissed you, the more your thighs tingled with need, “please Gukkie?” The giggles faded, and you held your breath as his fingers walked down your body, slipping to your crotch and dipping his fingers into your wetness.

“Are you begging?” Jeongguk chuckled as he pulled his fingers away and slipped it into your mouth, pushing his fingers slowly pushing further and further into your mouth until you gagged. “Princess you sound so pretty gagging for me,” your eyes had begun to water and your hands gripped his wrists, trying to pry his fingers away.

“Beg me,” Jeongguk sat up, pulling you to sit on his lap, whilst continuing to gag on his fingers and the bitter taste of your own wetness. You could feel his hardness poking into the soft flesh of your thigh and you ground down into it, drool was beginning to dribble down your chin.

Gripping his hand and pulling it back enough to choke out, “please touch me!”

“Who do you want?” He slid his fingers out of your mouth, using the wetness to slick his way into your depths, feeling your back arch into those two fingers.

“I want you!” you moaned, leaning backwards and digging your fingers into the flesh of his thigh as Jeongguk curled his fingers within you, “please Gukkie, more!” It wasn’t enough, just his fingers moving slowly in and out of you, stretching your insides whilst staying purposefully away from the button that would bring you hurtling towards an orgasm.

Jeongguk’s teeth bit into your ear, his hot breath made your insides heat up as he whispered, “you feel so tight little lamb, you’re so wet and ready to take my cock in you.” You nodded, reaching a hand back to feel his hardness, his groan was low and sent pleasure racing down into the pit of your stomach as you continued to grind your hips into his fingers.

“Gukkie, I want to cum,” you moaned in frustration, reaching a hand down to your clit and beginning to rub the bundle of nerves in circles, frantically chasing your high until Jeongguk found your hand and grabbed it. Stealing your high as soon as you climbed up to it before patting your thigh with a chuckle.

“Little lamb, you want me to touch you?” You mewled in response, legs feeling weak from being on edge for so long and as Jeongguk ghosted his thumb over your clit you thought your legs were going to buckle, “beg princess.”

The thoughts in your head were barely coherent as you turned in his lap to wrap your legs around his waist “please touch me.” He pushed your back into the soft mattress, and held your hips as he pressed kisses to your bellybutton, “no Guk!” You grabbed fistfuls of his hair and shoved his face into your heat, grinding as he opened his mouth to lick at the wetness collecting in your folds.

“What should I do princess?” Jeongguk blew against your opening, laughing when your groan turned into an elongated moan, his tongue licked at your entrance as he slid his two fingers back inside you.

It was then, your orgasm so close you could almost taste it, that you snapped, “touch my clit! Fuck me until I cum and then more, load me up with your cum so it drips out of me. Make me yours Jeongguk.”

“With pleasure my sweet princess,” Jeongguk continued to move his fingers inside you, attaching his lips on that small nub of nerves that he began to suck on, listening to your moans get louder and more airy. Pulling away he used his other hand to rub quick circles atop your clit, listening to you pant and moan beneath him. “You sound so pretty when you cum little lamb.”

You tried to catch his hands and push them away, legs shaking with an orgasm that was lasting so long your mind was unable to form words as pleasure became the only thing you could remember, “F-fu-fuck, Gukkie. P-please.”

“Please what?” Jeongguk slowly slid his fingers out of you and you listened to the sound of him licking up the juices, before his lips touched yours allowing you to taste yourself on his soft lips. He brought out a sense of lust you had no idea slept within you, and as Jeongguk sucked on your tongue before pulling away, whispering, “beg for my cock princess.”

You had other plans though, feeling like he’d been in control for too long as you grabbed his shoulders and used it to push him onto his back, straddling Jeongguk’s waist, you grinned to yourself, “how about you beg for it?”

The boy laughed, his hands sliding up your legs to squeeze your ass and pull you forward so your wetness was atop his hardened cock, “fuck me little lamb. I want to hear you moan my name,” he helped to pull of your top and in the moonlit room, you could see his shirtless figure, leaning forward to run your hands over the smooth expanse of his chest.

He bucked his hips up, and you fell forward onto his chest, body overwhelmed with pleasure by a single thrust moaning “Jeongguk, harder.” The band of his trousers wasn’t hard to find and you quickly used it to slide down his thighs, allowing yourself to squeeze the hard muscle and bite your lip to suppress the urge to ride them until you came.

“My trousers are off now, hop on for a ride princess.” Jeongguk grabbed your hips, helping to keep your balance as you aligned your heat with him and slowly he brought you down.

Even having been meticulously stretched out by Jeongguk, the head of his length stretched you out and made you kick back your head, “fuck Jeongguk.” Your moans only got louder when Jeongguk, having gotten bored of how long you were taking to slide down his length, thrust his hips up, so you took his length all in one.

Jeongguk’s voice was raspy as he grunted, feeling your nails dig into his shoulders before you slowly pushed up, and let him hit that spot in you that made your toes curl with pleasure. It was all becoming too much after a few thrusts, and you decided, instead, to grind your hips on his length so it hit every sensitive part inside you.

“You’re such a well behaved little lamb,” Jeongguk moved his hands up from your waist, small grunts continuing to leave his mouth, as he cupped your breasts in his hands. The soft flesh was pliable in his hands and the small grunts continued to leave his mouth as he thrust up into you beginning to chase his building high.

He fingered at your nipples, playing with the hardened tips as you arched into his touch, “Guk, I can’t do it anymore,” you gasped, hoping he would understand that your muscles were beginning to burn from sitting atop him and Jeongguk’s smirk was audible in his voice.

“Weak little lamb, are you sure you can take my rough fucking?” He flipped you over, so your hair was splayed on the pillow and began to snap his hips inside you with a deadly rhythm, hurtling you towards an orgasm, faster than any man before.

Jeongguk could sense this, his hand cupped your face as he squeezed your jaw, “open up princess,” you did as he asked and seconds later you could feel his spit dripping into your mouth, and all over your face for that matter. It only made your heat throb more for him and with that Jeongguk moved a finger up to dip into your mouths, collecting the mixture of both yours and his before dipping his finger down to press onto your clit. “Cum for me again little lamb, squeeze my cock so I can cum inside you.”

You gasped at the thought, pussy beginning to tighten as the beginning of an orgasm hit you, body squirming in sensitivity as Jeongguk continued to thrust inside you. He stopped suddenly and you felt his length pulse within you, hot spurts of cum hitting the entrance of your womb as you continued to arch your back due to an overwhelming feeling of pleasure. Until you reached up and grabbed the back of his head, “kiss me you beast.”

+

+

“Another book?” Jeongguk laughed as you pulled a colourful spine from the shelf and placed it on the pile he was currently holding, turning to stick your tongue out at him as you continued to load up on all the books you wanted to read.

When you finally pulled the last book, one about gardening, you turned to smile at him, “you shouldn’t have taught me how to read if you didn’t want to carry all my books.” It was a new ritual that you had created, wondering the library and plucking books from the shelves to nestle up on the window seat to read.

You were wearing one of the dresses Jeongguk had gifted you, finding you enjoyed the fullness of the skirt more than your trousers. As you sat at the window, pulling your feet underneath you and grabbed a book from the pile that Jeongguk had just delicately placed on the seat.

Jeongguk sat opposite you, his eyes trained on your face as he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. Glancing up from your book to see this sight, you pushed your foot out and kicked over the pile of books, giggling as Jeongguk cursed and swiped them on the floor, “you think you’re funny little lamb?”

“The funniest,” you tilted your head up with a laugh and watched as he stood up, sliding his hands under your knees and the other on your back as he hauled you up, sitting back down and holding you to stay sitting on his knee.

For a while you were content to sit like that, back resting on Jeongguk’s chest as played with your hair. Until you caught sight of movement outside and once your gaze landed on the gardens, you found it almost impossible to drag it away, Jeongguk pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, asking, “Are you still planning your escape?”

The question took you by surprise, laughing you turned to face him and press a gentle kiss to the tip of his curved nose, “maybe.” His eyebrows fell and he looked out at the garden as if trying to search what you were looking at but it was something he could never give you. Although you know slept on the bed every night and spent all your time practically joined at the hip with Jeongguk, you still dreamed of seeing your brothers again, to make sure they were okay.

You missed them with every fibre of your being.

“I’d let you go,” he whispered and you pulled away from him in surprise, searching his eyes to see if he was joking or not, but the fact that he couldn’t meet your eyes told you all you needed to know. Jeongguk was being honest, he would let you go home.

But you didn’t run to pack your bags, instead, only one word stuck out in your mind, “why?”

It was weird to watch one of the strongest men you know cry, but a tear slid down his cheek as he looked in your eyes, “if you love something then let it go.”

You wiped away the tear and smiled at him, “did Taehyung tell you that?” it wasn’t the sort of mentality Jeongguk had to allow things he liked to leave, because he was someone that seemed to keep everything important to him, next to him.

You cupped his head in your hands and pressed a firm kiss to his lips before pulling away with a grin, “I have to figure out how I’m going to escape first.” He laughed, a slightly choked sound before nodding and leaning his forehead against yours.

Every time you thought you’d seen all of Jeongguk he would show you another side of him and throw your head for a loop.

+

+

It should have been a normal lunch, enjoying food whilst animatedly debating with Jeongguk if the death of your favourite character in a novel was necessary. He was trying to persuade you that it added depth to the protagonist whilst you refused to listen to him slander your man and write him off as merely a tool for self development.

It was just as you slammed your hands into the table in mock anger that you felt like something was wrong, proven by Jeongguk’s gaze snapping to the window as he stared out of it, followed by Yoongi slamming open the double doors into the library.

“The humans! Jeongguk they found you,” Yoongi was standing panting, his fringe stuck to his forehead and you sat there in shock watching as Jeongguk slowly stood up and placed his hand on your shoulder, as if to protect you before Taehyung slid into the room.

Jeongguk looked down at his hands, before balling them into fists, “tell them to leave.” That was when something smashed the window, you jumped and laughed slightly when you realised it was only a stone.

Slowly bending down to inspect it, you gasped at the familiar scrawl on a piece of paper attached to the rock, you looked up at Jeongguk and he knew before you even said the words, “can I at least talk to my brother?”

You watched him stare at the floor before lifting his gaze and slowly nodding, “you are free to do as you please. But Yoongi tells me that it is not just him, so to be safe why don’t you stand on the balcony and quell their anger?”

In the seconds it took for you to process what he had said, more stones had already begun to be thrown at the window, shattering the glass and the small red rose pane and you watched Jeongguk’s shoulders rise in anger before he stormed out of the room.

For a second you were split between running after him and trying to calm him or seeing your brother, your feet had already begun to walk you towards the balcony and you nodded at Taehyung with a resigned look as your friend sprinted after his master.

The balcony was surrounded by high white stone pillars and as your bare foot hit the cold floor, you flinched wondering what Jin would say when he saw you. Instead of overthinking, you sprinted towards the end of the balcony and leant over, “Brother!”

There was a gasp from below you and that was when you saw him, tears already streaming down your face to see Jin standing there beneath you, “why are you here?” you smiled, tucking your hair that was being blown about by the wind behind your ear.

“To call off the bargain the only way we can,” he shouted, “to kill the beast!” With that hurrah he raised a sword in the air that you recognised to be your fathers and you watched in horror as the men around Jin shouted in agreement, raising their weapons.

“I’m fine, there is no bargain,” you replied, smiling at Jin and wondering how you were meant to persuade him on a fact that he seemed adamant on. You wondered what bargain he was speaking of, maybe the fae law of exchanging a life for a life and suddenly you wished you had visited home when Jeongguk had allowed you to go, if only to calm the worry Jin must have had.

Jin pierced the grass with his sword, looking up at you with a shake of his head, “it was a bargain between the beast and our Father! Y/N!” Jin shouted up to you, calling your name as if to make sure you were listening to what he had to say, “he stumbled into the realm of the fae and exchanged your life to save himself.”

Your knees gave way beneath you, as you shook your head in disbelief, was that how Jeongguk had known your father could read both human and fae? Was that why he had been so kind to you? Known all your favourite foods? Was the flower of love that begun to bloom in your heart planted in lies?

A second later you heard a growl, the hair’s on your arm rose as you looked back down to where Jin had been standing to see Jeongguk, but he was no longer human. Your heart raced with fear as you watched Jin point the sword at Jeongguk and without thinking you held onto the balcony once more, “Is it true Jeongguk?” you couldn’t bear to look at him but you did and what you saw made tears spring to your eyes.

His eyes turned from their piercing bright green to brown and even though you were standing on the balcony, the change in his demeanour told you all you needed to know. And yet, as you turned to run from the balcony, not wanting to see his sad form anymore or your brother’s anger you wondered who you were running downstairs to protect.

Was it your brother, who had come to save you and risk his life in the process or the beast, the mysterious man whose company had become something you looked forward to? Or was it your own soul, as your feet slipped against the marble and you fell, accidentally ripping the hem of your dress.

You stood back up on shaking legs and began to run again, sprinting through maze-like corridors until you reached the back door, hand resting against the handle which you turned to find it was locked. “Please don’t go out there,” Taehyung was wearing armour, a sword sheathed at his side and without a fully thought through plan or purpose, you grabbed the handle of his sword and stole it.

“No Y/N!” Taehyung yelped as you used the hilt of the sword to shatter the window and then climb through the hole you had created, running towards where you could hear shouts in the front of the house.

That was where you found Jeongguk and Jin fighting, the men around them had since dissipated and you could hear shouts from inside the house but you weren’t worried about that. The idea that Jin was about to kill the man - fae or even beast made your chest tighten with worry, gripping the handle of the sword you ran towards where they were fighting.

“Please stop!” you yelled but neither paid you attention, instead Jin turned his head and barked at you to be quiet as he took a step forward and jabbed into Jeongguk’s thick pelt causing him to groan in pain.

That sound broke your heart and as you watched him collapse forward onto his knees, Jin pulling back his arm for one last thrust when you jumped in front of Jeongguk, wrapping him in your arms as you felt the dull pain of steel entering your back.

“No-” Jin pulled the sword out and you heard him collapse behind you, turning your head to smile sadly at your brother, “I’m so sorry my baby sister.” He moved forward but you shook your head and cupped Jeongguk’s face in your hands, smiling at the softness of that dark fur.

Jeongguk looked at you through watery eyes as he placed a shaking paw to the wound in your stomach, pulling it away as you gasped in pain but you focused on the boy in front of you, so gentle and kind and when you felt your strength begin to drain, you leant forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love him Jin, I’m sorry.” You felt your brother take your hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to it and with a final push of strength you let go of Jeongguk and let your body drop into Jin’s open arms. “Jeongguk offered me the choice to leave but I couldn’t Jin. I love him so much.”

As your vision faded to black, the stories your father would tell you came to mind of the fairytales that always happened with a happy ending, “My little girl,” he had pressed a kiss to your forehead, “a princess like you will always have a happy ending. I know you’ll find your prince and together you’ll live happily ever after.”

Happily ever after, you would describe your time with Jeongguk as just that. There was no regret as the darkness enveloped your mind but right as when you thought you had come to the end, a brilliant scarlet rose bloomed in front of your eyes.

You will have a real happily ever after.

+

+

What happened that day could only be described as magic and a blessing from the Fae Gods.

Jeongguk would hold your hand most nights and recount how, when he felt his beast taking over, a rose had sprouted over the wound in your chest and filled the air around you with the scent of roses. It had been fae magic that had saved your life and broken Jeongguk’s curse.

He had felt his beast melt away and he was so busy staring at his hands that now showed fingers instead of furry paws that when he turned to see you sitting up, the tears that fell from his eyes were unstoppable.

The tears that slipped down his face were unstoppable and then loud sobs wracked his body when your arms wrapped around his chest and you squeezed him tightly, “you are my happily ever after Gukkie.”

Jin laughed as he watched his little sister looking happier than he had ever seen before, smiling as he joined in the hug with a laugh that conveyed the relief of having somehow not killed his sister, “you two really are a beauty and a beast.”

A/N: I have never written anything quite like this before or in such a short amount of time. Please give me some praise and compliments to provide me with the power to write Rapunzel ( kth )

ps. before you tell me i “ripped off” A Court Of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas (which i encourage you to read as it is an amazing story) I’d also like to point out that ALL of this series use the ORIGINAL fairytale as inspiration.

In this particular imagine, the beginning does pretty much copy the beginning of her book, however the rest of the imagine is all inspired by the original beauty and the beast story !!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beauty_and_the_Beast .

On further research, I’m certain Ms Maas’ work was also heavily inspired by that tale, so please please please, do not accuse me of plagiarism. I write and produce this stuff for free, I’m human.

[thehobbycollector]

The Seer and The Wolf - Ch. 1

The sky was lightening to a pre-dawn grey on the eastern horizon when Kestra Nightshade limped into the city. Her paws were raw from months of travel, and her stomach was an aching, empty maw. She’d run out of food two weeks ago, and only the instincts of this form had kept her alive. Gods, she hated eating in this form. It always felt like the fur of whatever she was eating got stuck to her tongue, tickling the back of her throat till she gagged. She snarled softly in disgust, her lips barely lifting from her teeth.

She was so tired. She’d been running for three months, trying to make it to this city. To the temple at its center. Narene had said the priestesses would offer her sanctuary. She hoped it was true. She needed sleep, real sleep. Not the half-awake sleep she’d settled for while traveling, always aware of her surroundings, terrified someone would find her.

Kestra finally limped into the square surrounding the center of the city, and stared up at the temple. Walls of black onyx curved away from either side of where she stood, held up by pillars of red jasper. Golden urns of fire stood between the pillars, lighting the temple and the square, and setting the shadows jumping. The road she had followed into the city ran right up to the set of doors set into the northern side of the temple.

As she approached the doors, a voice reached out of the shadows to say, “Animals are not allowed inside the temple.”

Kestra whirled toward the voice, the hair along her back standing on end and bared her teeth. It took a second for the words to penetrate the exhaustion in her mind. Animals are not allowed inside the temple. Right. Kestra reached inside herself, searching for her last drop of power. Finding it, she pushed and, with a flash of light, shifted back into her Fae form.

She swayed where she stood and vaguely wondered if she should have identified who was speaking before she had shifted. If this was a trap, she’d have a better chance of escape as a wolf. She swayed again, putting a hand out to catch herself against a pillar, as a figure stepped out of the shadows beside the door. Even with the lightening sky and her ability to see in the dark, Kestra couldn’t tell if the person was male or female. They studied each other for a moment before the voice again spoke, “What brings you to the Vareshi temple?”

Kestra opened her mouth to explain that she needed sanctuary. Tried to say the word. Before she could make a sound though, she swayed again, this time over balancing. She thought she saw the figure lunge toward her as her eyes rolled back in her head and the ground raced toward her.

 ***

             Kestra woke in a sunlit room, her mouth dry and her head pounding. She was lying on a cot near a wall, covered with a light blanket. She turned her head, squinting against the sunlight. The room was small, barely big enough for the cot, a small side table, and a chest on the far wall. The side table held a pitcher and a cup, and her pack was leaning against the wall next to the door. No wall coverings, just the same black onyx walls from outside.

             Kestra glanced at the closed door, then pushed herself up to a sitting position, reaching for the pitcher and cup. She filled the cup with water, splashing some due to the weight of the pitcher. She was leaning against the wall, sipping her third cup when the door opened and a woman walked in.

             The woman was wearing an ankle-length, straight black skirt, with the sides slit open from ankle to hip, revealing blue leather leggings and black boots. Her top, also black, was sleeveless, tight across the chest but loosening where it hung across her ribs. The top stopped short of where the skirt began, leaving a sliver of her abdomen visible. She was carrying a tray with a few dishes on it, but stopped in the doorway when she saw Kestra was awake.

             “Don’t drink too much water,” the woman said. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

             Kestra glanced at her empty cup, and put it back on the table. The woman set the tray next to the cup and pitcher and sat on the other end of the cot, watching her. She didn’t look much older than Kestra, but it was hard to tell with humans since they aged so differently.

             “What’s your name?” the woman – girl? – asked.

             Kestra watched her for another moment, silently debating whether it was safe to give her own name. Finally she said, her voice raspy, “Avenna.” Her mother’s name. That might not be safe either, but… her mother had been dead for 10 years. And this wasn’t Doranelle. No one here would recognize the name.

             “I’m Keina. Welcome to the Vareshi temple.” Kestra didn’t respond, so Keina continued, “We would have done your intake when you arrived earlier this morning, but you weren’t up to it.”

             “Intake?”

             “Just a few questions,” Keina assured her. “So we know what to do with you. Everyone has to answer them.” She reached for the tray and set it on the table between them. “I brought some food for you. You can eat while you answer, ok?”

             Kestra surveyed the dishes: some type of brothy soup, a plate of sliced meats and cheeses, a few pieces of bread, and some fruit she didn’t recognize. She picked up the soup and sniffed at it, then leaned back against the wall and took a sip. It slid down her throat, warming her against the chill of exhaustion.

             “What brought you to the temple?” Keina asked, taking Kestras acceptance of the food as permission to begin.

             “I was told I could find sanctuary here.”

             “Are you running from someone?”

             Kestra peeked inside herself, at the well where her gift lived. It wasn’t full yet, but there was enough magic swirling for her to check back along the route she had traveled. It only took a moment to be sure. She looked up from the soup. “No one is looking for me. I’d like to keep it that way.”

             Keina nodded to herself, as if tucking that information away for later. “How old are you?”

             “15.”

             “I’m 17.” Keina picked up a piece of fruit and popped it into her mouth, then stood. “Finish the food. There’s a washing room down the hall on the left.”

             “That’s it?”

             “For now,” Keina moved to the door. “The High Priestess is away for a few days. She’s the only one that can decide who gets to stay.” Keina studied her for a moment. “On the off chance that she kicks you out, I’d spend my time resting. Pamona said you nearly cracked your head open on the steps when you passed out this morning.”

             Kestra watched the girl close the door behind her and blew out a breath. She ran her hand over her head, looking for a bump, but only found a small tender spot on her temple. Her magic had already healed whatever had happened. She silently finished all the food, savoring the tangy juiciness of the unidentified fruit. When she was finished she set the tray on the table, grabbed her pack, and went to find the washing room.

 ***

             By the time Kestra returned to her room after relieving herself, washing both herself and her clothes, and changing into a clean set from her pack, the sun was starting to set. She dropped her pack next to the door and laid her wet clothes out to dry on the end of the cot. Then she curled up under the blanket and went back over everything that had happened. She hadn’t let herself think about it while she was traveling. She was pretty sure she would have lost her grip on … everything … if she had let herself do anything but put one foot in front of the next during the last few months.

             But now… now there was a roof over her head, and a pillow under it. Now, she could look past the silence inside her and remember.

             She and Narene had been in the garden, practicing Kestra’s self-defense techniques, when the vision had torn through her like wild-fire, destroying everything. One second, she was surrounded by towering trees and bird-song and the scent of summer flowers.

The next, she was kneeling on a sunny stone veranda, the sound of a river roaring nearby, a throne in front of her. The voice she was speaking with wasn’t hers, but it was one she knew as well as her own. The words were in the Old Tongue, but she couldn’t focus on them past the overwhelming emotion whirling through her like a storm. Anger, rage, disgust, love, loyalty, and, above all, the need to protect. The eyes she was seeing through glanced toward the wolf, dark as a moonless night, that lay in front of the throne. She knew that wolf as well as she knew the voice coming out of her mouth.

             A movement at the throne caught her eye, his eye, and she/he looked up. She was terribly beautiful. Dark hair, pale skin, cruel mouth. Her eyes glinted with something like triumph as she stepped forward and held out her arm. A knife appeared in her other hand, and as she cut a line down her arm, she spoke in the Old Tongue – and Kestra realized what she was seeing. The Dark Queen offered her bleeding arm, and as she/he drank the vision skittered into a million pieces, like a broken mirror, each scene worse than the one before.

             Blood and pain and rage and despair. Hate and horror. Years of it. Decades.

             The vision shifted again. She was still looking through his eyes, but this time when he looked up, he saw her. She was older, this future version of herself. Filled out in areas that were currently gangly, even with her Fae grace. When his eyes landed on her… she/he felt the mating bond shimmer, like a tremor under sand.

             Everything skittered again. And it was worse. It was so much worse. She saw, how the Dark Queen would use her against him, against them. In so many horrible ways. On the battlefield, in the bedroom, in public, in private… she would never stop. Never stop, until they were all irreparably broken.

             When she had come out of the vision she’d been on the ground, sobbing, covered in vomit. Narene had been kneeling beside her, trying to hold her hair back, asking what she had seen. Kestra couldn’t speak past the horror and the sobs. It had taken hours for Narene to calm her down enough to get anything out of her, before she finally put her to bed. When Kestra had woken in the middle of the night, Narene had made her go through the vision with her again. Some things Kestra had been unable to repeat. Afterwards, Narene had handed Kestra a pack, already full, a knife, and a map. Kissed her on the forehead and shoved her out the door. Told her to go southeast, to Varesh. And to never come back.

             Kestra lay on the cot in the temple, lost in her memories, and did not feel the tears that soaked into her pillow as she wept.

 15 years later

               Kestra picked her way across the battlefield, trying not to trip on limbs and bodies and weapons. Her limbs were heavy after a full day of swinging her sword and shield. The battle had raged since dawn, but now that the sun was sinking in the west the war bands had separated for the evening. Her foot squished into something, and she gagged at the scent of offal that wafted into her face. Gods, she hated war.

             In the 15 years since she had arrived at the Vareshi temple, she’d fought in three of them. All within the last 5 years. All the same war, really. An ongoing territory dispute with a neighboring kingdom. Kestra didn’t really care. But the Vareshi Warrior Priestesses had taken her in, trained her, and promoted her through their ranks – so she fought for them. For the women who had given her something resembling a home, when she had had nothing. For the women  who had taken a lost 15-year-old and turned her into a warrior.

             Kestra was nearly to the back lines of the battlefield when Keina stepped out of the line of tents, a pack in her hands, and headed toward her. As she approached, Kestra realized that the pack Keina carried was her own, and every sense went on alert.

             “What’s wrong?” she asked as Keina came near.

             “There’s a Fae warrior male in the High Priestesses’ tent,” Keina said softly, as if afraid someone would hear.

             Kestra glanced toward the camp. “Who?”

             “I didn’t catch his name.”

             “What’s he look like?”

             “Silver hair, green eyes, a tattoo down the left side of his face,” Keina supplied. Kestra let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, but then Keina handed the pack to her, and Kestra caught the scent on it.

             “The White Wolf is here?” Terror skittered down her bones.

             “I caught him nosing at your pack as I passed your tent, so I grabbed it. The Lion is here too.”

             Shit. Shitshitshit. Kestra looped the pack over her shoulders, its weight pressing down on the scabbard tied to her back. She looked at Keina, at her friend, saw the sorrow and understanding on her face. Keina still didn’t know what it was that had brought Kestra to the temple, still didn’t know her name wasn’t Avenna. Kestra had never told her, or anyone, what had brought her here. And she never would. But… Keina was her friend. And she was going to miss her. She stepped forward and embraced her, whispering, “Thank you.”

             Keina squeezed her for a moment, then stepped back. “What should I tell the High Priestess?”

             Kestra glanced at the camp again, then the battlefield, then back to her friend one last time. “Tell her thank you. And I’m sorry.” She looked into the well of her magic, pulled up the battle that would happen the following morning. “And tell her to put the Wolf on the left.”

             Keina nodded as Kestra shifted into her other form. She glanced at her friend one last time, then headed east, cutting across the right side of the battlefield.

 ***

             When Keina entered the High Priestess’s tent a few minutes later, she and the tattooed Fae warrior were standing at the center table discussing tactics for the battle the next day. She hadn’t seen the Wolf or the Lion anywhere in the camp, but there were two new Fae warrior males also at the table, both blonde. The High Priestess looked over as Keina stepped up to the table.

             “Where is Avenna?” she asked. “We have need of her.”

             Keina thought she saw one of the blonde males still at the name. “Avenna didn’t make it off the battlefield.” Sorrow crossed the High Priestess’s face and Keina carefully added, “The Seer said to put the Wolf on the left tomorrow.”

             The High Priestess’s brows creased slightly as she studied Keina for a moment, then turned back to the table where a map of the battlefield lay. She picked up a wooden carving of a wolf from where it had been on the right side of the battlefield and moved it to the left. She glanced back at Keina, “Our guests need a place to sleep.”

             One of the blonde warriors, not the one who reacted to Avenna’s name, interjected, “We only need one tent. Fenrys and I will sleep in our other forms.”

             Keina glanced between the warriors. “The only available tent is Avennas’.” The warrior, Fenrys, definitely flinched that time. She leveled her gaze on him and said, “The Wolf knows where it is.”

[whumpqhs]

Shrouded Shield, 1

Because I totally needed another story to work on...

If you sent an ask or tag, I do have a list for responding! I’ve been swamped lately with work and such. Sorry!

Yes, I still plan to continue my other writing, promise! I just wanted to get this down first.

Credit to @redwingedwhump for the setting this is in. Thanks!

TW: I’m not exactly sure how to tag this, because it’s not exactly dubcon or noncon, but this story contains parts where someone has to act like they’re okay with being touched when the writing is clear about how uncomfortable it makes them. So take that as you will, and please be safe.

“Gana?”

“Hm?”

“How’d you get that?”

Riva was pointing at the binding mark on the inside of her forearm. After today, she’d always remember to wrap both arms--for warmth, if you asked her. Right now, all she could do was silently curse herself for not thinking to cover it.

“You know what it is?”

“Yeah. It’s from the… the thing you bound yourself to.” This was, they’d established earlier that evening, Riva’s first encounter with a warlock. She was still talking to Marigana, and she’d been trying to act like nothing had changed, but her expressions were tight and her body was tense. Like she was afraid of being sacrificed on some altar somewhere.

“Yeah. Um… it’s a long story.” Marigana rubbed her fingertips over the mark, flat to her skin like a tattoo, or a birthmark. She wanted to give her (former?) friend one last chance to decide that, actually, she was better off not knowing.

“That’s okay.” Although it clearly made her nervous, Riva scooted closer. “I mean… If you’re okay with telling me.”

“...yeah. I’m okay. Do you… know whose mark it is?”

Riva shook her head. Her short dark hair flew back and forth with each twist. Marigana, against her better judgement, shifted over and stretched out her arm. Now both of them were tense.

“Alxaka. She’s… a demoness… according to some people. To others she’s an evil goddess. Some say she’s neither; instead, they think she's a powerful fae, strong enough to grant powers just like if she were a god.” 

"...oh."

She looked up briefly at Riva’s fearful, fascinated eyes, then said quietly, “You, um, can touch it if you want, it won’t hurt you.” She didn’t want anyone touching her, anywhere, much less her mark. It was the offering that was important; the willingness. She had to look safe. Nonthreatening. “And it won't make you turn evil, or anything.”

She’d been expecting a refusal, a murmur of Oh no, that’s alright, so she could feel justified in putting her arm back. Instead, Riva stretched out a careful, quivering hand. She brushed over the mark with her own fingertips, and Marigana kept her face and body perfectly still. 

“It doesn’t feel any different than the rest of your skin.”

“Nope. It’s just like a birthmark.”

“Your skin, it’s really hot. Are you too close to the fire, do you want to move?”

“Oh, um, no. I just… am like that, heh.” She gave Riva a sheepish grin as if to say, Sorry for my body temperature! And drew her arm back.

“...Alsaka?”

“Al-tsa-ka.”

“What do you think she is?”

“Me? I think she’s fae. Legend says she walked the fires of Hell itself to rescue one of her faithful, to take back what was hers. I don’t think a goddess would upset the rest of the pantheon that way. But a fae wouldn’t care.”

Riva nodded, solemnly. Marigana hoped she was satisfied, but she piped up again, “So--how did you get… how…”

“How did I bind myself to her?”

Silent nodding, at first, and then she added, “If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” She smiled, making the expression relaxed. “It’s alright.” She couldn’t have secrets. Secrets made them afraid of you. Everything had to be offered, and okay to investigate. She had to make sure they felt safe. “Um, I was… I’d just turned eighteen. I had a really bad fight, with my parents.” Not completely untrue. And Riva started nodding, even relaxing a bit. This, she understood.

“Ohh. Over a boy?”

“Uh--yes. Mhm.” She nodded back, managing a sheepish little laugh. Now, that part was an outright lie. There had been no boy, no boy in her village wanted aught to do with her. There had been men, certainly, strange men with heavy chains who showed up at the door. Who’d heard from a reliable informant that there was a changeling lurking about. Who intended, as all good Iron Priests intended, to cleanse the land of evil… which, in this case, meant her.

Her father, the reliable informant, had opened the door to let them in. By now the panic of the memory had faded, but the hurt and betrayal still twisted in her chest when she thought about it.

“So--you left home?”

“Huh? Oh. Uh, yes.” 

“That must have been hard.”

Riva was looking at her, but she didn’t seem quite so afraid. Her eyes were soft, and her body wasn’t so tense. 

“It… it was. Yes.” She absently chewed at her lip as she remembered the crowded house full of running feet, the shouting, the chaos. And, before that, the thick frozen shock that was almost worse. How her father’s mouth formed a hard line when he looked at her. How it was one of the priests who broke the spell, turning to him, confused.

“You said there was a changeling. I don’t see one.”

“It’s her--I told you, she looks human. With that sigil. Mari, show him.”

She remembered the desperation, how she’d thought maybe if she complied things would go better. It felt dangerous to let go of her control, but she did it, cutting the power to the sigil that made her look human like everyone else. Letting them see her claws, and deep violet skin, and glowing eyes. Her long ears and the broken bits of tissue that had once been horns. 

“That’s not a changeling--” one of the priests started. 

Another cut in, “But we’ll take her.”

“No!”

The voice came from behind her, she remembered hearing it and knowing it was her mother but being unable to understand why. She thought of them as her father and mother, but that wasn’t true, was it? She’d taken the place of their real daughter. Her mother had told her so. Many times. They would never see their real daughter ever again, thanks to her; all they had was this… cheap imitation. This misplaced bit of fae.

“No? Why not?” Another one of the priests. He lifted those heavy chains and they clanked together, discordant, harsh. “Surely you want rid of that thing--”

“You can’t take my daughter!” Her mother’s voice had been thick with emotion. It had barely registered over the shock that rushed through her, stinging like icy water. She’d never been called anyone’s daughter before. Her mother had always been very clear that she was not their child.

“You can't have her! I won’t let you!”

“...your daughter? I thought she was a changeling?”

"She is. It's…" Her father shook his head. “She’s--um, my wife, you know, she’s easily upset. She gets confused.” But his expression hadn't matched. She remembered later how it was testy, tense. As if he was discovering something he didn’t like one bit. “It’s alright, I’ll help you get her into custody. Come here, Mari. Now.”

“--listening to me?”

“Huh?”

Riva patted her shoulder. Lots of practice kept her still and relaxed, as if she didn’t mind being touched. 

“You were lost for a minute there. I said… what happened after you left?”

“Oh. Um… well, it was winter. I ran into the woods… didn’t really have a plan, I was just so upset.” Panicked was more like it. Terrified. Upset would come later. 

Riva nodded as if wanting her to go on. She couldn’t explain to the girl--her friend, still?--that she was tired, that remembering this made her ache. That it drove her sleep into a fractured mess, reliving that night, that she’d be dreaming about it… because she couldn’t say no. Everything had to be offered up. Including her most painful memories.

“Um, it was cold. I come from up north, it was freezing… snowy…” And oh how she hated the cold. She just wasn’t built for it. She remembered how it felt, running out of the house without her coat or scarf; like jumping into a frozen lake. The cold had stabbed into her like thousands of needles. “It was… I didn’t have time to get anything warm for myself, I just left. It was so cold it hurt, the air hurt… it was painful to breathe. I ran for as long as I could.”

“You poor thing.” 

Marigana blinked and looked up at her, watching her face. She seemed sincere enough. Of course, Riva thought she was talking to another human like herself, not a changeling with a convenient illusion spell. Most assuredly, that would have changed her reaction.

“I… I’m okay. Um…” she tried to focus, to get through the telling so she could be done. “...they didn't come looking for me…”

“Oh,” said Riva, as if this were another tragedy. She remembered the wash of relief she’d felt, staring out into the shadows and seeing no spark of firelight, no torches coming after her in the cold. But if you’d had loving parents, them not caring if you froze to death would be sad, of course. She just shrugged. 

“It’s, it’s okay. Um, so--it was cold, I… didn’t have anything warm on.” This part of the memory was different. It didn’t hurt all that much, but it was heavy. Raw. “...I was freezing to death… um, I heard a voice. A woman. She said… it looked like I was one of hers. Said she could save me, so I could serve her cause.”

“And you said yes?”

“Mhm.” She nodded, looking at the mark again. Alxaka’s symbol was a shield, wrapped in a cloak. It made sense for the deliverer of undeserved luck and mercy. Protection, but not for anyone righteous or good. “I said yes. Suddenly I wasn’t cold anymore.” It wasn’t just physical warmth, though, that flooded into her when she accepted the offer. It was soothing, calming, a sense that she’d come home. That someone would protect her. Her eyes almost closed, remembering, trying to call that feeling up again. Lately it was so difficult. She tried… focused… 

But Riva was still watching her. 

“...um, she led me to this little cave. More of an overhang, I guess. It went far enough back that it was warm, and she gave me a spark for a fire. The next morning, I was able to make it to another village… then from there, I worked my way to this company.” It had been a lot more complicated than that, of course, but Riva hadn’t asked, and she was already so tired. She’d have to find somewhere lonesome to sleep tonight, in case her control over the sigil wavered or failed. If she looked anything less than human, she’d have a lot more problems than a nosy friend. 

“That’s so sad…” Riva nodded to her, and patted her shoulder again. Still intent on setting her at ease, and making her feel safe, Marigana kept still, smiling as if she enjoyed the gesture, the contact. As if it didn’t make her want to flinch away. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Oh, uh, of course. You know me, I’m an open book.” She smiled. “No secrets.”

“That’s good. Friends shouldn’t have secrets from each other.” Riva stood and stretched. “Ahh, well, it’s time for my watch. Get some sleep, hm?”

“Yeah. Sure.” She nodded back, waiting until Riva had wandered off to her post before she stood and walked off in the opposite direction, finding somewhere out of the way to tuck herself into the shadows. 

To all appearances, she was a perfectly normal human girl, twenty-or-so summers, sleeping under a thin woolen cloak. As her exhausted mind began descending into a nightmare about the Iron Priests, her last thought was the hope that she’d keep up those appearances until morning.