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Nightlight (Part 3 of 4)

"All of the laughter, all the sleepless nights, waiting for ever after... keeping on the night light."

Pairing: Rhysand / Night Court Emissary (Pixie!) Reader

Format(s) and Word Count: Headcanons and Drabbles, 2.11k words (the longest part yet!)

Summary: Amarantha's reign over Prythian continued as the years progressed, but you and Rhysand preserved in hopes you'd find a way out. A bargain is made behind closed doors and there are feelings left unspoken, though everything changes when you infiltrate the Spring Court.

Tags: Moderate Angst, Hurt / Some Comfort, Implied Violence, Torment, and SA, Set During Under The Mountain

Notes: Another continuation, thank you everyone who has liked, reblogged and commented, it means a lot to me and has made me want to write more for this series ♡

You can read the first part here and the second part here if you're new, enjoy!

A few more years passed before Rhysand convinced Amarantha that your pixie form could be used to her advantage, that your miniature eyes and ears were perfect for gathering information from the Spring Court. It was clear what he had done to persuade her, but it allowed you to accompany him whenever he had to leave the accursed court.

He asked you to make a bargain with him shortly afterwards: a small fraction of his power in exchange for your re-established camaraderie. It was a simple bargain, one that he wouldn’t make with anyone else, and it would allow you to protect yourself if anything happened whilst you were in the open – but you didn’t accept the bargain at first.

You had been trying to reminisce about the past when Rhysand appeared in the dark and lifeless room, the room that was supposed to be his when he wasn’t attending to Amarantha. He didn’t hesitate to make a bargain right then and there, but you wouldn’t take his hand when he placed it on top of the bed. “...What do you mean ‘no’?” He raised an eyebrow as you crossed your arms and turned your head. “You can’t fight in this form and you can hardly fly with those wings.” He pulled his hand back to his side and crouched down to the bed to look at you closer, though you simply shook your head and expressed your disapproval with sharp, brisk chimes. There was a minute of silence before Rhysand said your name with a low growl, a warning.  “There’s no telling what you’d attract now that you’re a pixie, there’s a reason why no one has seen any for centuries – they’ve been killed and enslaved for entertainment.” Your body stiffened from his words, the Attor and dark faeries’ laughter resounding in your head, but you refused to respond. You couldn’t bring yourself to take his hand, take part of his power, not when his powers were restricted as is – and you would never forgive yourself if something happened to him because of it. Another minute passed before he placed his hand back on the bed, his voice soft. “...It would let you speak to me through your head, you know – if you had part of my power. You could speak normally that way.”  You turned to look at him, his starry eyes looking down at the black silk sheets. “I haven’t heard your voice since that night, that party,” he paused to relive the memory. “I was trying to get through her mental shields when you warned me about the wine, but I cast those words away and paid the price and now– now I can barely remember your voice.” His hand made a white-knuckled fist, his eyes closed to try to conceal his pain and regret, his self-hatred. “If anything happened to you, if you died, I wouldn’t know what to do. I’d probably lose all hope.” You walked towards the edge of the bed and pried his fist open before reaching out to place a hand on his palm. His magic pierced through your body, and it was painful for a brief moment before you saw the tattoo emerge in the centre of his palm – the black star constellations making your chest tighten when you saw it on your own. “I don’t regret the things I had done that night, at her party.” You couldn’t stop the thoughts, the words that left your head when you finally spoke to him. “I forced you to take me, and I would do it time and time again if it meant you didn’t go through this alone, whether I turned into a pixie or something else.” Rhysand opened his eyes to meet yours, tears being held back as you continued. “I won’t let you endure all this pain and suffering by yourself, not when I’m here – I’m still your emissary, even under her ruling – and I refuse to serve anyone else but you.” Everything was still for a few minutes before you saw his lips curl up slightly. It wasn’t a full smile, it wasn’t even half of one, but it made something pull and yank at your chest before you willed it away.  “...I’ve missed your voice,” he murmured, blinking the tears away. “You always have a way with words, it’s why I made you my emissary.” He got up from the floor before sitting on the bed, seemingly waiting for Amarantha to summon him before you flew up to his lap. “Through the hardships and to the stars Rhys,” You reminded him, the words making him place a thumb on your cheek to caress it softly. Your chest wrenched again as he repeated it back to you. “Through the hardships, and to the stars.”

You and Rhysand went to the Spring Court’s borders when you learned that Tamlin had become more fierce and merciless with Amarantha’s faeries in recent months. It didn’t take long for you to realise that he was trying to hide and protect something from Amarantha, and you had risked your life to fly to his manor and look through one of the windows.

There, Tamlin and Lucien were speaking to a female that you couldn’t recognise, and she didn’t have any pointed ears or any magic about her. You could hear nothing but your heartbeat as you pieced everything together, and by the time the High Lord and emissary realised something was amiss, you had flown back to Rhysand.

You landed on Rhysand’s shoulder, gasping for air as you opened your mind and shared everything you had seen moments before.  “They’ve done it– They found– There’s a human woman in the manor–”  Rhysand had told you about the Spring Court and their curse from Amarantha when you tried to think of ways to break her spells and ruling. Tamlin had forty-nine years to find a human woman who’d kill a faerie but still fall in love with him, and if he broke the curse in time, he would surely bring Amarantha’s reign to an end. “–They still have time to break the curse, there’s four months left!”  Your wings fluttered from all the information you uncovered, but Rhysand was still deep in your thoughts and didn’t respond until he had taken everything in. “That woman has been there for a while if she hasn’t tried to leave the manor or cross the wall, but there’s no telling if she truly loves him, and if she’d tell him word for word.” “Maybe she can’t bring herself to tell him right now – or maybe she’s waiting for the right time or place.” You could tell that he wasn’t completely convinced, but there was nothing else that could be used as leverage against Amarantha at this point. The Day, Summer and Winter Court had tried to rebel early on, but there was no stopping the High Queen’s magic, not when she had most of the High Lord’s magic. “But the most important thing now is that woman, she’s all that’s left – Calanmai is next month, and the manor will be left wide open while everyone else attends the Great Rite – there’s no telling what could happen to her then if no one’s there to protect her.” You spoke like an emissary then, your words firm and unwavering. Rhysand had stared for a moment, as if he’d forgotten that side of you, the side that held strength and willpower whenever you were doing negotiations and alliances. It seemed that he was in awe, though there was another emotion there that you couldn’t discern. “I’ll convince Amarantha to let us attend by bringing back traitors,” he finally said. “She’ll also want to know who Tamlin picks as the Maiden before she has their head.”

And on the night of Calanmai, right before the ceremony took place, you saw the human woman being cornered by three picts as they tried to drag her to a secluded part of the forest. Her hair and face were slightly concealed by her hooded cloak, but there was no mistaking that human scent when it stood out from everything else.

Rhysand’s presence was enough to make those dreaded lesser faeries scurry away, though the human pulled out a dagger to try and defend herself. You flew in front of the blade, and Rhysand nearly grabbed you to pull you back to safety before you raised your empty palms and opened your mind to speak aloud.

“You shouldn’t be here, it’s not safe for humans to walk around on Calanmai.” Your voice was soft and gentle, and the woman lowered her dagger slightly before taking a step back. “I’m not alone, my friends brought me here.” Her eyes shot to the bonfires and the cave in the far distance. “I got separated from them before I got lost.” A lie of course – she was most certainly looking for Tamlin, though it was clear she didn’t know what she was getting herself into, and what Calanmai was all about. Rhysand took a step closer to you, which made her raise her dagger again. “Your friends shouldn’t have taken you here, the ceremony is about to start – the High Lord of the Spring Court will become a Hunter and choose a female faerie to make his Maiden, while everyone else engages in physical, carnal activities to help restore the magic in the lands for Spring.” Her eyes widened at your words, her face going red while her grip on her dagger faltered. “But my friends, they’re looking for me–” “There will be other faeries, like the ones you met, who will think you wish to join in.” Your voice became firm, and she stilled at your words. “Please, go back to where you were before, and make sure you don’t come out until morning.” She hesitated, unsure whether to believe you or not before Rhysand spoke up.  “My friend and I mean you no harm, truly.” He looked at you before looking back at the woman. “You should go somewhere far from here, before more faeries pick up your scent and start to look for you.” Everything was silent for a moment, and you thought that she would run to the bonfires and cave before she put her dagger down. “...Thank you.” She murmured, before she turned to the other direction and hurried back to the manor. It hadn’t taken long for Rhysand to find the picts and rework their minds to make them the traitors that Amarantha had been looking for, but you couldn’t stop thinking about that human woman. Should you have tried to tell her about the curse, all the spells? Would she have believed you?  “There’s two months left,” You whispered to Rhysand when he came back into the dark room. “Do you think that woman loves him? That she’ll tell him?” You waited for his response, and he looked as if he didn’t know whether to tell you what he truly thought or try to lie. He sat beside you and stared at the floorboards. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. Amarantha doesn’t know about that human, and Tamlin’s managed to take care of her all this time. Maybe she’ll be the one to do it.” Maybe, that was his true answer. He was uncertain himself, and truthfully, you were too. There wasn’t much you could do now, all you could do was wait. But two months passed, and you and Rhysand had accompanied Amarantha when she marched into the Spring Court with the Attor and the other dark faeries. Tamlin and Lucien had been waiting in the dining room when she entered the manor, and the human woman was nowhere to be seen.  The High Lord and his emissary didn’t put up a fight and went willingly, and you had screamed and cursed at them both in your head, paying no mind to when Rhysand looked at you for a brief moment before he went back to playing his part of Amarantha’s dutiful pet. And when you were back in that dark room, you had collapsed on the floorboards and wept to the Mother.  Forty-nine years, that’s how long you had been a pixie, how long Rhysand had been Amarantha’s slave. There was no telling how long Amarantha’s reign would last for now, whether the other High Lords would try to organise another rebellion or the King of Hybern would finally step in. But you couldn’t bring yourself to lose hope now. If Rhysand hadn't lost hope, then neither would you. The human woman was strong-willed enough to go to Calanmai with nothing but a hooded cloak and a few daggers – maybe she’d come back for Tamlin and come Under The Mountain. Maybe.

Taglist: @saltedcoffeescotch ʚїɞ

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Nightlight (Part 2 of 4)

"All the laughter... waiting for ever after..."

Pairing: Rhysand / Night Court Emissary (Now Pixie!) Reader

Format(s) and Word Count: Headcanons and Drabbles, 885 words.

Summary: Amarantha was High Queen of Prythian now, and you had become her cronies' new plaything while Rhysand was somewhere out of sight, out of reach. You endured her ongoing torment, but at least Rhysand was safe and had not been harmed - right?

Tags: Heavy Angst, Hurt / Little To No Comfort, Depictions of Violence, Torment, and SA, Set During Under The Mountain, Things Get Worse Before They Get Better

Notes: A continuation of my previous post, thank you for reading!

Update: The third part can be read here!

You were tossed into an old silver lantern when Amarantha finished using you as an example for what other spells she could cast on the high lords and their courts. You could hardly make out what she said from within the lantern, her voice muffled, but you heard the words ‘new plaything’ before she passed you to the Attor.

And when the Attor had taken you away from Rhysand, from the party, you placed a hand on the lantern’s glass and tried to reach his mind, to tell him that he was not responsible for what was happening – but there was nothing but a few drops of magic left in your new body, and that was all that would remain.

The first thirty years of your imprisonment mostly consisted of the Attor and the other dark faeries drowning you in faerie wine and making you sing and dance for them when they were bored and had nothing else to do. You were nothing but a pretty songbird to them, and they would poke and prod at your body to hear the sounds of bells leave your mouth.

“Why’d you stop?” They hissed, their talons and claws gripping your head and shoulders to make you stand upright, but it was no use. They had emptied three bottles of faerie wine, the amount too much for you to handle as you collapsed on the table and threw everything up. But they wouldn’t stop, not now, not when the night was long.  Instead, they made you their little doll and forced your body into various poses and positions that would’ve had you screaming if you were sober. You could hear them laughing and sneering at you, but the room was spinning and you couldn’t do anything but close your eyes, waiting for it to end. By the time they were done, they had left you on the table in that puddle of wine, your hair and body stained red. You couldn’t wash off the stench, but you had crawled back into your lantern and made yourself small, your body trembling as you cried yourself to sleep.

You hadn’t seen or heard Rhysand during that time, and you had convinced yourself that Amarantha hadn’t done anything to him, that all she had done was kill half of his court and turn you into a pixie. But on the thirty-first year of your imprisonment, on the night of Starfall, she had your lantern moved to her bedroom.

“I thought you would like a change of scenery,” Amarantha purred. “It is Starfall, in case you had forgotten.” She placed your lantern on-top of her dresser and had it face her bed before the door opened and someone else entered the room. You couldn’t stop the broken chime that left your throat, the sound making those old violet eyes meet yours for a moment before she spoke again. “I thought I would give you a surprise, Rhysand,” she smiled. “For servicing me and my body all these years.” You didn’t recognise your High Lord, not when he was wearing those exposing sheer clothes and turned to Amarantha with a smile. You thought it was a trick, an illusion, that she had merely found some other high fae who resembled him well enough. Those thoughts faded when a familiar darkness surrounded you as she beckoned Rhysand to her bed, making it nearly impossible to see or hear what was happening, what he was doing. But you had known, and that was all it had taken for you to fall apart.

From that night onwards, you remained in Amarantha’s bedroom for ten more years, and Rhysand would continue to pull that darkness over your eyes and ears. It didn’t take long before you became unresponsive and stopped chiming, and eventually she asked Rhysand to move your lantern to another room.

You had thought he’d take you to a room with more dark faeries, but he placed your lantern on-top of a bed in a dark and unused room. You didn’t dare move, didn’t blink until he finally spoke your name, your eyes meeting his for a moment before they welled up with tears, the sound of cracked bells filling the room.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he murmured. “When she shoved you into the lantern and ordered the Attor to take you, I thought that was it.” Rhysand leaned down, his arm outstretched and his hand upward. When you walked to his palm, he slowly lifted you up until you were close to his star-speckled violet eyes. “Through the hardships, and to the stars,” he said, the words evoking a distant memory. It was something the two of you had told each other before you attended a meeting with the Illyrian lords or a conference with Keir. They reminded you that regardless of the long hours or the late nights, that you had been doing this for something important, something that involved a distant night sky with faces that you couldn’t remember, but loved nonetheless. He placed you back down on the bed before turning to leave, most likely being summoned by Amarantha, but he turned back to look at you one more time. “We’ll get through this, I promise.” And with those words, you slowly put yourself back together.

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Tamlin for most (if not all) of the ACOTAR series:

(Rhysand's art was created by @/frostbite.studios on Instagram, but I had found it on atouchofmagicdesigns.com)

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Nightlight (Part 1 of 4)

"All the sleepless nights... keeping on the night light." - Laufey.

Pairing: Rhysand / Night Court Emissary! Reader

Format(s) and Word Count: Headcanons and Drabbles (though it reads like a one-shot due to the drabbles length), 998 words.

Summary: You managed to stop Rhysand from going to Amarantha’s party by himself, having threatened to tell the rest of the Inner Circle if he didn’t at least take you, his emissary. But you hadn’t predicted the spells that Amarantha had up her sleeve, especially not the one that’d turn you into an old and forgotten lesser fae.

Tags: Hurt / Little To No Comfort, Brief Depictions of Violence and Torment, Set During Under The Mountain

Notes: My first ACOTAR post (not including the memes, though they may cheer you up if you need a laugh)!

Update: The second part can be read here, thank you for your support!

Rhysand was careful not to tell any of the Inner Circle about Amarantha’s party invitation, not even his brothers, but you noticed how he slowly became distant. He assigned everyone various tasks that he said were important, but they had been time-consuming and were also restricted to Velaris’ walls, not even Hewn’s.

Your tasks consisted of drafting negotiations, and gathering information from multiple libraries, but the Mother had been on your side then, because you managed to complete your tasks a day before Rhysand had planned to leave, his shoulders tense and his knuckles pale before you saw a glimpse of bloodlust in his eyes.

“...Rhys, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” He did not respond, and had turned his back on you before you spoke again. “Are you going somewhere? I don’t remember you telling me about any upcoming meetings with any of the High Lord-” He turned around at those words and reached into your head, your mental shields being torn apart when he tried to override your mind – but Amren had taught you how to protect yourself well, if not for a few moments against your High Lord. “You’re not supposed to be here,” He whispered harshly, gritting his teeth. “No one’s meant to be here, you should be doing those tasks I assigned-” “I’m your emissary, I’ve been doing similar tasks for centuries!” You closed your eyes and swore as you felt him, felt his claws tear down your last line of defence. Your heart was racing while you tried to think of something, anything, to make him loosen his grasp, at least for a moment. You’d never had to fight him like this, it usually involved future plans with the Illyrian camps or Keir, but nothing like this. “I don’t know what you plan on doing,” You fought to breathe, your eyes meeting his pained ones. “But I swear on the Mother, if you don’t at least take me with you-” You took another deep breath before you grabbed the front of his black tunic and pulled him closer. “-I will scream until you break my shield completely or until someone, most likely Azriel, will hear me.” A moment passed, then two, before his claws drew back.  “...Don’t make me regret this," were the last words he said before he gripped your wrist and winnowed you to Hewn City, where the Court of Nightmares waited for him to lead the way to Amarantha’s party.

Rhysand used his magic to make your hair and clothes match his attire before the entire court strode past Amarantha’s stone doors and into her chamber. His warriors were allowed to do as they pleased, but you didn’t leave his side when he stared at Amarantha with his eyes unblinking.

When Amarantha had made glasses of wine appear in everyone’s hands, you could not shake the feeling that something was wrong, especially when she revelled in the sight of the High Lords raising their wine glass and placing it to their lips. Rhysand had taken a full sip of his before you grabbed his arm.

“Stop drinking it,” You turned to Rhysand and smiled, speaking through your teeth as your grip tightened, but he was lost in his head and couldn’t see or hear you. “The wine, I think there’s something in the-” You felt the magic leave the room before you saw it, saw how the other High Lords seemed to look dull and tired while Amarantha became more lively. Rhysand’s eyes finally met yours, his eyes wide and caught off-guard when he realised what was happening before he entered your mind for a single second. “I’m sorry,” he said in your mind, then you felt it – felt your mind being overridden by his, all thoughts and memories of Velaris, of the Inner Circle, misting away until all that was left was nothing more than Rhysand, Hewn City, and the Court of Nightmares.  You could see that he was using the remains of his magic to cast a shield and send a message out to someone, but you weren’t sure who, not when half of the Court of Nightmares collapsed a moment later. Then you felt Amarantha’s eyes on you, her eyes narrowing when she looked at how you held onto Rhysand’s arm and how he had barely touched his glass of wine. She smiled, and you found yourself standing before her in the blink of an eye, your heart pounding in your ears when she raised her hand. “I’ve been meaning to try this spell out on someone – you’ll do perfectly.” One moment you were standing, the next you were convulsing on the floor, screaming from heartrending pain as your body started to shrink, your bones and organs compressing and curling inwards. Your wings were next, and you were certain you were crying out for Rhysand, for people you couldn’t name when they cracked and bent into new shapes. Your tears dripped onto the marble floor until the spell stopped, the transformation complete. You couldn’t move, but you could hear someone walk towards you and pick you up like you weighed no more than a feather, as your body laid on a soft piece of leather. When you had the strength to raise your head, your eyes managed to find Rhysand’s, who looked completely shattered. Why did he look so far away? “You look much better,” You heard a voice from above you, and you raised your head further to see Amarantha smiling down at you, her teeth resembling headstones made out of pearls.  “Why, I can’t remember the last time I’ve ever seen faeries like this, they’ve been wiped off the lands for centuries now.” You looked at your bare exposed body and turned around to look at your wings, now thin and delicate like tulle. You then looked down at where you laid, slowly realising that you were in the palms of Amarantha's hands. And when you cried, you could only hear the sound of a miniature bell leave your mouth as you clawed at your throat. “Yes, you look much better as a pixie.”

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Feyre in the early ACOMAF chapters trying to get Tamlin to let her leave the manor:

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What I read in ACOTAR Chapter 21:

As I scanned the crowd, my eyes met with those of a masked faerie across the path. One was russet and shone as brightly as his red hair. The other was—metal. I blinked at the same moment he did, and then his eyes went wide.

What I pictured in my head:

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Hello! Welcome to my ACOTAR side blog.

I stumbled on the series by chance when I scrolled through the /Reader tag on AO3 and read an Azriel/Reader fic set in a Modern AU – I later picked up the first book before falling in love with it. ♡

It's been a couple of weeks since then and I've read most of the books now (halfway through ACOSF❃), and I've also been listening to the Graphic Audio Books for extra immersion!

I'm still getting used to writing the characters, though I can do the following for the time being:

⋆⁺₊☾⋆ The Night Court

• Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel

.‧₊˚❀. The Spring Court

• Lucien

I'm open to requests if you'd like me to try and write an idea for these characters, though I'll be mainly writing headcanons and drabbles before I work up to one-shots!

And please also note that I don't write anything involving NSFW because I'm not good at it, at all.

Requests are closed!

Masterlist

/|㇏Rhysandノ|\

Nightlight (Headcanons and Drabbles) (Angst) (On-going) | 1 | 2 | 3 |

I also sometimes make memes / edits to make myself and others laugh – I'll make sure to tag them accordingly (e.g. #acosfspoilers) in case there are any new readers who are scrolling through.

Thanks for stopping by, and take care!

Last Updated: 27th of June