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mare-jeon-calore-haviliard · 8 months

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Waiting Room

You see Astarion again, years after the final battle of the Elder Brain.

Pairings: Ascended Astarion x GN! Reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, sad girl hours, discussions and allusions to sex but no smut, NOT a happy ending. MINORS DNI 18+

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Based on "Waiting Room" by Phoebe Bridgers. Get ready to cry because I love hurting my own feelings. Graphic made by me, I do not consent to my work (graphic or writing) to be shared without my permission

The first time you had fallen in love with Astarion was the first time you laid eyes on him.

Sure, the handsome, charismatic vampire had threatened a knife to your throat at first meeting, but that was only because he was scared – unsure if you and the other companions were trustworthy. Though there were ups and downs throughout your journey, eventually you had all fallen into a found family dynamic – looking out for one another as if you had all grown up together, though you were all as different as the next.

It only took a few days for the magnetic connection to take hold between you and Astarion. Once the initial shock of the parasites wore off, you often found yourselves near each other. In battle, tents next to teach other, nights around the fire…where one of you was, usually the other was as well.

The romance started the night of the camp party with the Teiflings. You were sure Astarion was only looking for sex – which, to be fair, was the most incredible sex you had ever had in your life – and that was how he acted.

For a bit.

Late night sneaking into your tent turned into talking until the sun rose, or secret walks alongside creeks, or stolen kisses when the companions weren’t looking. The secretive nature of your love was exciting – a bright light in between the doom and gloom of the Ilithid, and battle, and blood. When Astarion finally started to open up, and the reality of his traumatic past set in, you were there for him in more ways than one.

Soon, the others in camp started to notice. There was no denying how you stole glances at him, or how Astarion looked at you, totally enraptured as you spoke. His smile when you entered the room, or the gleam in your eye as he teased others.

“You two have been in love since the moment you met,” Karlach had mentioned one night, smiling, “We’ve all seen it. There’s no denying it. It’s a beautiful thing to witness throughout this whole thing…in a way, it’s giving us all hope.”

Heavy breathing, gentle touching, hair pulling, and names muttered like prayers. Silent laughter while the rest of camp slept, promises of finding a ring so Astarion could walk freely in the sun, admitting to fantasies of your future together. A renewed hope in both of you, finding solace in each other’s hearts and bodies. Trusting each other with stories of your dark pasts, pacts to never lie, promises to love each other for ever. And ever. And ever. And ever.

Your love. Your light…your life.

“I will love you for my lifetime,” Astarion had promised one night, his voice barely above a whisper. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear gently, “You have brought me a happiness I had never thought possible. My whole life I have lived in fear…only after meeting you have I finally begun to know joy.”

Eventually, you had made your way to Cazador’s palace – the plan in place to stop the ritual, kill him, and set free the rest of the spawn. Astarion came face to face with his past, and confronted his actions and decisions head on, ready to settle the score and start anew. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before – Astarion stabbing Cazador so many times it seemed like there wasn’t any blood left. His body covered, as his heaving sobs wracked his body so hard he shook, his cries echoing through the dark hall. Tears in all of your eyes – Karlach and Gale holding you back to give Astarion his time to mourn the past 200 years. All he needed to do was free the spawn, to give them another chance at life, and you could leave, Astarion leaving behind the trauma and hurt.

But something happened. Something went wrong.

Before you knew it, the ritual was completed. The cries from the bodies of the dying spawn had infiltrated your ears before you could figure out what was happening – Astarion had finished the ritual, ascending. Never to fear again, only to be feared. Tears fell openly from your eyes, screams from your throat, fear in your heart. Why Astarion did it, you would never know.

All you knew was that the future that both of you had longed for was gone, never to be seen again.

You tried your hardest to stay with Astarion, to be by his side like you promised. But when you tried to discuss his newfound love of evil, he turned on you – he didn’t want a partner, he wanted a slave. A pet in a way…someone to follow exactly what he wanted to do, and say. His offer of turning you into his spawn made you sick – the words he spat at you when you told him “no” forever ingrained in you forever.

“I can’t believe I thought you were worthy of a life with me,” He said, his dark eyes shining, “When this little journey to finish the Elder Brain is done, so are we. I never want to see you again – the very sight of you makes me sick.”

Your whole life turned to tragedy in the blink of an eye, and you were so depressed, you didn’t even truly feel there. In fact, you and Astarion never spoke another word to another the rest of the time around each other, which only worsened the blow of your depression.

Numb the rest of the journey, you tearfully finished your task, saving Baldur’s Gate and more. The months you had travelled together, you had envisioned a giant sendoff together when you were done – food, drinks, dancing, music…to celebrate your victory and time together. One last party before you parted ways.

Instead, you silently slipped off into the night, never saying goodbye to any of your companions. Thinking it would be the easiest move for your shattered heart, you decided to push that time in your life aside, even though it was the most important time in your life.

A shell of your former self, constantly thinking about Astarion. About the Astarion that once was. Life returned back to “normal” – back to working in Baldur’s Gate, pubs with friends, research on magic in your library. Trying to enjoy the life you had desperately wanted to return back to when you were first infected, only to miss the life you had cultivated while in the midst of battle.

Trying to return back to him.

Even though he no longer existed.

The moon shone high in the night, a starless sky. You were leaving the inn; a party for a friend’s birthday. You were the last one to leave, helping them close down the bar. Even though you didn’t have much to drink, you tried to stay around for as long as possible, desperate to not be home alone.

The pub was in an off street of the main road, and its location combined with the late time of night made for a quiet walk home. You’d be back in a half hour or so…you tried to enjoy the warm evening air, reminding yourself of the beauty surrounding you.

The moon is beautiful, You thought, trying to look for happiness in the small things, The air smells nice. The warmth feels good.

Your footsteps echoed in the night, your arms wrapped around yourself like protection. You tried to not think too hard about feelings often – even after two years, your thoughts would always wander back to Astarion, given the chance. As if you had no choice in the matter.

Suddenly, a rustling. You stopped walking, trying to get a better idea of the sound. You narrowed your eyes, your heart immediately racing. You didn’t dare move, but instead swiveled your head so you could stay put.

Nothing. Silence.

You had just began walking when you heard the voice.

“I never thought I would see you again.” He said.

You stopped in your tracks, your body turning to ice. Slowly, you turned towards the voice, your heart racing so hard you could feel the blood pumping in your head. Your fingertips buzzed with adrenaline, and your throat immediately became dry. You instantly met his gaze.

Astarion.

Standing in the shadows of the back alleyway you were walking down, he took a step forward. In an outfit adorned in shining black metal, intricate weavings fit for a king. His trademark smirk was nowhere to be found, only his dark, ruby eyes.

He looked absolutely breathtaking.

“You said you didn’t want to.” You finally were able to manage, your voice more of a whimper. Your worst fear coming true – you knew that Astarion had resided in the same city as you, but you didn’t think you would ever come face to face with him again. The city was big, he was a vampire lord…so many variables.

He chuckled – one quick sound. “I can’t believe you remember what I said.” He took a step forward, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You could feel the frown on your lips.

“I’ll never forget it.”

Astarion paused to look at you, his expression unreadable. Finally, he took another step closer to you and spoke again, “I smelled you…a bit ago. At first, I thought I was going crazy – I thought it couldn’t be. But I decided to investigate and…here you are. After all this time.”

You were not afraid. You knew he would do nothing to you – your fear of seeing him again was not rooted in fear of your life. It was rooted in fear of your heart – how long would it take you to numb yourself again, now that he was standing in front of you again? Weeks…months…years? You had barely begun to feel normal again.

“I hope you are faring well after our adventure,” He spoke again, his voice far away. He was close to you now, a foot or so away. “I’m assuming you are living here now.” He spoke as if we were old colleagues, not former lovers. Not as two people who thought they were destined for one another.

You nodded, “I’ve came back home. After we were done.”

“You didn’t say goodbye.”

“I couldn’t.” Your voice began to catch in your throat. Astarion noticed, nodding. Giving you space to feel for a moment. After a minute or so, it seemed he was done – he turned to walk away.

Just like that.

“Do you regret it?” You called after him, causing him to stop. He didn’t turn around, but merely stared straight ahead. Your tears threatened to fall as you spoke, “Ascending. Do you regret turning into this?”

Astarion stayed so still you had thought time stood still. Crickets chirped around you, and you could hear the blood pulsing in your body the silence was so heavy. Eventually he turned slowly, taking a few quick steps to you, a smirk on his lips.

“Regret it? Regret it! Regret being one of the most powerful vampires, of never living in fear? Of having every desire, every want, every need met?” His eyes darted between yours, “Of having any body I want, whenever I want?” A blow to your heart – Astarion had added it to hurt you, of that you were sure. “No, darling, I don’t regret it at all. I savor it.”

You nodded, unable to say anything. His smile was a slap in your face – the Astarion you had once loved was completely gone, washed away with everything you had known about it. Instead, standing in front of you was someone you didn’t even know. In that moment, you realized something: ever since he had ascended, you were grieving the death of him. And grief, you knew, never went away, which is why it was so hard for you to think about. The death of who Astarion used to be never left you.

“I loved you,” You said. You shook your head slowly and smiled, embarrassed you were even discussing it. “I loved you more than I had loved anyone ever in my entire life. I will never love someone the way I loved you. I loved you so wholly and completely and fiercely, I-” Your voice broke, the tears steadily streaming down your face now, “I wasn’t sure of anything – if we would survive the journey. If we would defeat the Elder Brain. I wasn’t even sure of who I was half of the time…but there was one thing I was sure of: I was sure that if you were by my side, I would always have the courage to try. I’d have the courage to keep going.” You had to stop yourself, the tears turning into sobs. Your voice trailed off as you wiped the wetness from your face.

Astarion’s face was a snarl, almost disgusted with what you said. He took a small step back, as if he was unable to deal with your emotion.

“Why did you do it?” You asked through your sobs, your voice almost a scream, “How could you finish that ritual? How could you ascend? After everything we talked about, everything we promised each other…you became the very person you hated!”

“You have no idea!” Astarion shouted, his face suddenly centimeters from your face. You felt his hot breath on your cheeks, his voice causing you to jump, “You have no idea what I had been through in my life. That ritual? The ascension gave me freedom! I have become exactly who I was destined to be,” He laughed, extending his arms, “I am exactly who I want to be. I was not meant for a soft life – for a life of love or domesticity, or stillness. I was meant for more.” He started to pace, seemingly overwhelmed, his voice never lowering below a shout, “And you could have lived that life with me! You could’ve had everything you ever wanted…a castle. Jewels. Servants. The finest garments…we could have made love every night until the sun rose. I would have had you screaming my name so regularly, it would become commonplace.” He stopped his pacing and was close to your face again. He was red with anger, his finally lowering to a murmur, “But you were weak. You were…pathetic. Saying no was the biggest mistake of your life.” He was breathing hard, his shoulders moving up and down so harshly they seemed to move on strings.

The silence between you was so loud that your ears rang. You took a deep breath in, trying to steady yourself. “That isn’t love, Astarion. I wanted nothing but you. I didn’t need a castle, or servants…I just wanted you. The you that was before.” You took a step back, overwhelmed. You were so overcome with emotion that you felt like you were going to faint. Finally, you decided you needed to leave. Taking one last look into his eyes, you spoke again, “I’m sorry you felt you weren’t worthy of a life of love.”

Without waiting for a response, and hoping you would never see him again, you turned to walk away. Yu had only made it a few steps before Astarion spoke again.

“You were a gift, you know,” He said, so softly, that if you weren’t listening, you wouldn’t had heard him. You stopped, but didn’t turn. “You are someone who deserves a life so full of love, that every day you are reminded of how much. I…” He sighed. “I am not a someone who could have given that to you.”

Stifling a sob, you finally turned. You looked at Astarion, and for a moment, you saw a flash of the old Astarion, before the ascension. He looked at you, and for the first time in gods knows how long, he looked unsure of himself. His expression reminded you of the first time he had told you that he loved you.

“I’ve never done this before, but…” Nervously, Astarion took your hands, looking into your eyes, “But I love you. At least…I think I do. I’m not quite sure that I know what love is, really, but darling what you make me feel? Is unlike anyone has ever made me feel…and it’s a good feeling. And incredible, perfect feeling, actually. And I promise every day to try and make you feel the same…to remind you how much I love you.”

You smiled softly, sadly, unable to do much else. Fully facing him, you stood tall. “Astarion…I hope the life you chose fulfills you…I hope it’s worth it.”

Astarion looked at you for a minute more, and for a moment, you thought he would smile. That he would smile, and rush to you, and kiss you – that somehow this was all a spell that needed to be broken. That this could’ve been the beginning of the rest of your lives together…the life that you both had spent nights fantasizing together.

But he nodded curtly, and left, his footsteps silent in the night.

The feeling of sadness crushed you, sending you to your knees. You let your sobs echo into the night, releasing everything you had left. You could only hope that this could act as some sort of closure, that the grief you’d feel wouldn’t ruin you.

That it was a way to move forward, not backwards.

No, it’s for the better,

I know it’s for the better.

---

As always, comments, reblogs, likes mean a lot (especially comments and reblogs!) brb gonna go cry now bye.

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mare-jeon-calore-haviliard · 8 months

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Alternate timeline for TFBU where Astarion goes to the underdark with the other vampire spawns? He still leaves the group permanently after you kill Cazador without giving him the chance to choose to do it himself, but he never actually comes back.

He spends decades—maybe even a century in the underdark while you spend the rest of your days with that day haunting your dreams. You never pick up your lyre again, you eventually stop coming back to the house to your other companions at all, and you become a ghost of the city. While everyone moves on, you're just numbly existing in a time that only freezes for you.

But you still make sure to visit Astarion’s grave every few days. You don't know how you managed to find it, but you'd recognize the name carved into the headstone anywhere. And every day you leave flowers, and it’s the most you can do to cope with the unresolved feelings he’s left behind.

He spends years with the other spawn, mending his relationship with some of them but finds himself constantly thinking back on the day he left you. The day he nearly killed you. He's not sure how long it takes, but eventually, after so many years, he begins to understand. Living without Cazador’s dreadful presence makes him realize that perhaps power wasn't what he needed along—he only wanted to be free to live. This, of course, makes him realize how much in the wrong he was for reacting that way toward you, and he finally ventures back into the city.

But when he gets there, you're no longer there.

Too much time has passed. Too much of which he hadn't even noticed, because the sun doesn't rise in the underdark.

He finds his own grave where there’s a pile of dead flowers surrounding all parts of it. And despite how old it is, his tombstone is far cleaner than he remembers it, as if someone was taking care of it until recently. Carefully. Lovingly.

Then, he sees it. And he cannot deny how his stomach drops.

Your own headstone, on the opposite side of the graveyard.

Yours, is stuffed in the way corner, where nobody but the ones who actively search for it would ever notice its presence. It lies under a tree, and he doesn't have the heart to even read the years etched into stone, because he fears knowing how much time he wasted in just being able to understand you. To understand you'd done what you thought to be best for him.

He places a hand on the top of the stone. You feel cold now. No longer can he feel the warmth of your skin, see the gleam of your eyes, hold your soft hand against his face. No longer can he do what he came here to do, if you'd pity him enough to allow it. Instead, all he can do is stare at a stone with your name on it.

This is not you. You are not here anymore.

He rather wishes he'd just died the day of the ritual in Cazador’s plans. He would've died knowing how your warmth felt, but now—all he has is the memories of someone he threw away.

If there’s truly any merciful god left in this world, he's sure they'd kill him now.

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mare-jeon-calore-haviliard · 8 months

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Petty Jealousy ❣

Tav's companions cannot fathom them potentially having other friends. ❥ Astarion/reader, Astarion/Tav, but also Companions/reader. I'm a Tavrem supremacist. ❥ Contains my own personal headcanon for why the companions call them "Tav" instead of their first name, which is justification for me loopholing the eternal problem of xreader writers having to wince when they use "F/N" or "Y/N". ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav/reader!

“Look,” Astarion hisses, “look at that!”

5 pairs of eyes land on the offender of the night (which, to their surprise, isn’t Astarion) who conversed pleasantly with the leader of their party. A half-elf with a sharp jaw, proud brow, and mirthful eyes looks extraordinarily ordinary compared to their merry band of freaks.

“Who is that, again?” Shadowheart asks absently. “Tav suggested I rest for today instead of mapping out the Underdark with the party, and the next thing I know, they’ve brought back another little companion.”

Astarion’s jaw twitches. He snaps out, “Companion or complication?”

Gale crosses his arms, shrugging, used to Astarion’s temper running hot then cold. “His name is Nilmorn - a luthier. Tav took an interest in his wares. He makes a living selling stringed instruments in the Underdark. Strange place to sell such things.”

Ugh. Astarion sighs, shaking his head. Leave it to Gale to traipse over the obvious. A sharpened mind like his would surely know that this Nilmorn has no place here, if not to be a bloodbag for him to slurp on. Beyond that, what use does this pretty boy have? Nilmorn sells wares that are utterly useless to them. He’s quite boring and one-dimensional, too, a character that strays too much into the side of “moral good” for Astarion to tolerate.

“Yes, yes, Gale, but have you considered how strange it is that he has invited himself to our camp?” Astarion flares out his hand towards the wizard, as if handing him common sense on his palm.

“I,” Gale begins, blinking his wet, beautiful brown eyes at Astarion, “invited myself to this journey, Astarion. I am quite hurt you forgot. I thought what we had was special!”

“Yes, but you’re weird!” Astarion exclaims. “You’re a freak with a bomb in your body because of your situationship with Mystra! That,” Astarion points an accusatory finger in the direction of Nilmorn, in which 5 pairs of eyes look at him again, “is someone so unbelievably normal he doesn’t even have any, any…” He gestures, articulates with his hands to placate his words.

“No dubious motives?” Shadowheart offers, a smirk coyly playing on her lips.

“No complicated backstory?” Wyll pipes in. Astarion’s eyes flicker to him, and irritation seeps into his skin when he finds Wyll smiling wryly, as if the warlock is in on some joke he is not picking up on. “No, I don’t know, god that has let him down in some way, shape, or form?”

“Certainly no skills for fighting.” Lae’zel, thank the gods for Lae’zel. Her smooth voice hides none of her displeasure, and those sharp, slitted eyes stare across the fire to dig daggers into Nilmorn’s back. “Useless. We have no need for string-ed instruments. Let Tav pick one, and send this half-elf on his way.”

Yes. Yes. Astarion nods eagerly.

“Hmmm. I almost envy his mundaneity,” Karlach adds, “but I mean, he’s not that bad, Astari. Man’s just trying to make the world a better place, one string at a time.”

Astarion almost throws up. He looks to the other companions helplessly. “Darlings. Please tell me you are not going to let Karlach get away with saying something so putridly motivational.”

Karlach tosses her head back and cackles, much to Astarion's chagrin.

“Something is obviously bothering you,” Shadowheart states bluntly. Her green eyes watch his expression carefully in the firelight; she finds something there, but does not say it outright. With an exhale through her nose, as if it is painful for her to attempt a conversation with him, Shadowheart decides to throw him a bone: “Are you jealous?”

He does not catch the bone. The bone slams right into his head as he stares at Shadowheart, slack-jawed and scandalized. Him? Jealous? “You must be joking.”

“Aw,” Shadowheart croons, another one of her insufferable smirks toying on her lips, “you are.”

If he had mindflayer powers beyond reading her reprehensible surface-level thoughts, he would make Shadowheart’s head explode. Or something.

He must establish his dignity in the group once more. He cannot handle more of this, especially not with Wyll grinning so wide, not self-aware enough that if he did not have a sexy demon controlling his life because he didn’t read the terms of conditions of a motherfucking contract, Astarion would bully him more.

“That is not the point here. Look,” he says. “I am just saying that our Tav is desirable in every way. Physically, we can all agree that Tav is attractive. Yes?”

Yes. They all nod their heads.

“Tav is a little strange, but they are our leader, and they got us this far somehow. Who knew caring about other people could go a long way.”

Yes. They all nod their heads, except Wyll and Karlach, who look amongst the group with sheer disappointment on their faces. “Gods,” Karlach groans into her hand, “we– we need to unpack that later, gang. That’s just really sad.”

“Lastly, Tav is strong. Strong enough to split apart the mountains and the sky, I imagine.” Strong enough to bury Cazador into the ground, hopefully. “Strong enough to face a god unwaveringly. Strong enough to persevere. Strong enough to be kind, despite everything. Despite what they think, they are charismatic, and they are the entire package. The only person who does not know of their value is Tav themselves.”

They watch Tav’s lips quirk into a smile as Nilmorn holds a lyre out for them upon his smooth hands. Smooth, no sign of scars, no sign of complications. Just so unbearably mundane. Unbearably good. Unbearably kind.

Unbearably unaware of their true nature.

Nilmorn does not know why they nicknamed them Tav, despite their name being [F/N]. Their unstoppable quench to loot everything and anything set back their timeline by weeks, no doubt. Reaching into barrels, reaching into the pockets of bandits, reaching into damn silk cocoons, reaching into whatever their curious little hands can salvage. It annoyed Astarion at first, but then Tav would find all of these weapons and armors and foods and coins and books. Normalcies and luxuries that made camp life feel less of a drab and more exciting.

The gleaming, golden dagger at his side? They found it. The boots, the armor, the enchanted rings and necklaces they either found, bartered, or killed for their companions. Thus - Tav, short for tavara, the word meaning wares and merchandise; a clever little nickname Gale came up for their leader who is too good for all of them combined.

“Any other party could whisk them away, you know,” Astarion says. “Tav could find a party of good, decent people, unlike any of us, without the mess and complication and hurt we cause them, and leave. Remember, my dears. It is not us who is irreplaceable. It is Tav.”

How long would Tav tolerate him? Not long, he thinks. Long enough until he has expended his use for them, surely, but not forever. That's why anyone who wants Tav beyond sex or strength is a threat. If he hadn’t seduced his way into their heart, he wouldn’t be here where he stands, with a group of people who make him feel a little less alone.

No doubt he would be in a cage on the back of a covered wagon that belongs to that disgusting gyr, Gandrel, his chain to Cazador growing shorter and shorter.

Silence. Tense and still. They watch as Tav laughs lightly, eyes alighting with amusement as Nilmorn cracks another joke.

"You should meet my other companions," they hear Nilmorn offer, "I just know they would love to have you."

Revelation slams into each and every one of them like a magic missile.

“He’s not that funny,” Shadowheart mutters. She bends down, hands gripping tightly around the handle of her mace. “I don’t know why they are laughing that hard.”

“He can try to leave with his head on his shoulders,” snarls Lae’zel, “just say the word, Astarion.”

Excellent.

“What-” Wyll turns to Gale and Karlach. “We should stop them, shouldn’t we? There are no implications of this man trying to steal Tav away, he's just being nice, you worthless cunts! This is not fair to him!”

“We’re in the Underdark, aren’t we? Super deep. Doubt anyone who cares for him will come looking for him.”

“Karlach!”

“Astute observation! To make this all a little easier on us, I can most certainly put this man to sleep.”

“Gale?!”

“Go on, Lae’zel,” Astarion grins wickedly, “attack!”

“Oh, hells,” Wyll stumbles back, then turns quickly to the other direction towards Halsin. “Halsin! Halsin - they’re trying to murder someone again!”

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

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mare-jeon-calore-haviliard · 9 months

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Love and Loss: Ch.4

Warnings: Angstttt, Some Violence

Ch.3 Here

***

Feyre was here again. You knew the deal Rhys made, that every month he would go retrieve her. You understood he had to keep it up, had to play by the rules of his own game. He was as loving and kind to you as ever, but there was a growing divide between the two of you.

You were losing your husband.

At first you cried, eaten up by the sadness and pain. Until you had no more tears left. It hadn’t been the same since he came back from Under the Mountain. You had lost him 50 years ago, when you begged him to not go and he went anyway.

You accepted your marriage was coming to an end. Whether Rhys wanted to admit it or not, he could never love you the same again. Not after the trauma of what he went through, and not after realizing he had a mate. A mate that wasn’t you.

The day he brought Feyre to Velaris was the day it all finally ended. You knew Rhys would never look at you the same now that she was here, living in the Night Court. You waited for the pain in your heart as you watched him care for her, but it never came. There wasn’t anything left.

You moved your stuff out of Rhys’ room, asking Azriel to help bring it up to the House of Wind. You had no desire to stay in the townhouse anymore, a place that felt less and less like home everyday. You chose one of the unused bedrooms close to your friend, knowing you would feel less alone if he was nearby.

Rhys hardly noticed you had gone.

You waited for him to come ask for a divorce. You waited for him to say a single word to you. All you got was silence. You kept to yourself most of the time, not having the energy to be around the others. You stayed in your room and read, allowing the made-up stories to swallow the nightmare you lived in now.

It was some days after Rhys brought Feyre to Velaris that he called a family dinner. You dressed as usual, playing the ever-dutiful role of the High Lords wife. You kept your wedding rings on, the tattoo on your arm that matched Rhys’ visible as always. You would play the game until he admitted it was over.

You entered the dining room, not at all surprised to see Feyre in your usual seat next to your husband. You sat next to Azriel, acting as if this was all normal. You noticed the way her curious eyes rested on you, taking in your appearance. “Who are you?” She asked, rather politely.

You gave her a small smile, opening your mouth to respond when Rhys interrupted. “This is one of my dear friends.” Your ears roared at his words as he said your name. Dear friends? 150 years of being his perfect wife and you got reduced to a ‘friend’. Tension flooded the room as your friends took in what be said.

A tension Feyre noticed.

“Oh,” she said, understanding that he was hiding something. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you Azriel’s wife?”

The shadowsinger choked on his drink next to you, a laugh bubbling out of you in shock at her words. Feyre’s cheeks colored as she realized her mistake. “I’m sorry, I noticed the ring and assumed.” She looked down at the table in embarrassment. Rhys shot you and Az a nasty look, angry that you had upset his mate.

“Oh, it is okay!” You consoled, waving away her worry. “No, my husband sits next to you.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at Rhys, who was in turn glaring daggers at you. You gave him a sweet smile, done playing his game. He could either man up and divorce you, or treat you like the wife you were. “But you said she was your friend?” Feyre asked him, confused by the whole situation.

“Our marriage was one of duty, not love.” Rhys told her, the lie falling from his lips so easily. The tattoo that matched his burned against your skin, a signal that the marriage pact was breaking. You snorted, standing from the table.

“If that’s the story you wish to tell, Rhysand.” You shot at him, disgust dripping from your words. “As it stands, i’d say our marriage no longer matters.” You slid the rings you’ve worn for a century and a half off your finger, setting them down on the table. “Welcome to Velaris, Feyre.”

***

The second you were out of sight of the dining room you took off running. You wished more than ever that you could fly, that you could run away from the House and never return. You knew you would have to answer to Rhys, and it wasn’t his anger that scared you. It was yours. You didn’t regret what you said or how you acted. After so long of playing the docile female, you had decided that version of you was dead.

Rhys had killed her.

You stopped running in front of the doors to the library. You may as well reside in a public area, waiting for Rhys to come find you. You grabbed a book and settled on the couch as if nothing was wrong, opening it and beginning to read.

It did not take long before he showed up.

“What, may I ask, is wrong with you?” He demanded from the doorway.

“Me? The question, dear husband, is what is wrong with you?” You asked, not looking up from your book.

“This isn’t like you.” He said, his voice quiet.

“No, it isn’t.” You agreed, still continuing to read as if he wasn’t there.

Rhys walked over, coming to stand in front of you. “Tell me how to fix it. How to fix us.” He begged, pushing your book down gently.

You sighed, looking up at him. “You can’t.”

Anger flooded through the male in front of you, not used to his charms not working. “You are being ridiculous.”

“No, Rhys. I am simply looking at the facts. Our marriage has been over for a long while.” You spoke nonchalantly, as calmly as if this were a conversation about the weather.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re allowing jealousy to cloud your love for me.” You laughed at his words.

“My love for you? What about your love for me? Or was our marriage just an ‘act of duty’?” You quoted his words back at him, standing up from the sofa.

He rolled his eyes, exasperated by you. “I was trying to fix the mess you made!”

“The mess I made? By gods Rhysand, do you even hear yourself? You were the one who chose to introduce me as your ‘friend’!” You shot out, anger rising under your skin.

“She doesn’t need to know everything.” He defended, crossing his arms in front of him.

“Oh my bad, how silly of me. Of course your mate doesn’t need to know about your wife!” Your voice was close to a shout, but you didn’t care.

“Do not raise your voice with me!” He yelled back, stepping closer to intimidate you. “You could have just pretended to be Azriel’s wife!”

You blinked up at him, shock on your face. “There was a time when even the thought of me pretending that would have you fuming.”

“That time is over. I can’t feel jealousy for someone I no longer love.” His words were like a bullet through you, a knife in your heart.

“I see.” You said, moving away from him. “You know Rhys, you could have just asked for a divorce when you returned from Under the Mountain.” Your voice was devoid of emotion as you stared into his eyes. “I would have done anything to make you happy, as always. There was no need to force yourself to pretend you still cared about me.” You watched your words land, regret almost coming onto his face.

Instead, he scoffed at you. “I’ve never cared about you.” His voice was dangerously calm. “I married you because I like to win, my dear.” He came close to you, knuckles dragging across your cheek. “I never loved you. What I loved was dangling you over Azriel’s head.”

Your hand connected with his face before you even realized what you were doing. The smack echoed through the room, too angry to care about the consequences. In seconds Rhys had you kneeling on the floor, his power raiding your mind. He had only ever trained you to keep your shields up enough to deflect initial attacks, but never strong enough to deflect him.

You knew you were screaming, the pain unlike anything you had ever experienced. “Never,” Rhys roared in your mind, “lay your hands upon me again. You ungrateful, dirty bitch.” You were trying everything to push him out as you began to feel your brain turn to mush, unable to withstand the power he was sending through you. Your nails were scratching into the hardwood, blood coming from your fingers as they shattered.

Suddenly he was gone, ripped out of your mind. You crumpled into a ball, shaking as you curled in on yourself. You heard the distant sounds of fighting, someone picking you up. You recognized Cassian’s comforting voice whispering in your ear, trying to bring you back to the present. You opened your eyes, vision blurry while you looked around the room. You saw a great cloud of darkness, Rhysand’s power and Azriel’s shadows. Cassian set you down gently onto the sofa, running into the fight to separate his brothers.

“Enough!” He roared, pushing the two of them apart. The darkness on both sides dwindled, revealing two bloody males. “Rhys, I don’t know what has gotten into you, but if you think you can murder your wife in our home you are mistaken.” Cassian’s voice was hard, strained.

You watched as Rhys shook out his sleeves, pinning his cuffs back up. “She shouldn’t have acted so foolish then.” He said, sounding nothing like the male you all knew. He turned from his brothers, leaving the room. Azriel was by your side in seconds, eyes holding yours.

“Let me help you.” He whispered, pulling you into his arms. You nodded, laying your tired head on his chest. You faintly heard him and Cassian talking as he walked you to his room, some sort of plan being made.

“We can’t let him be around her alone again.” Azriel was saying.

“I agree. I think we should keep an eye on Rhys as well. This is most unlike him. We cant risk him attacking anyone else.” Cassian responded, ever the General.

Azriel hummed in agreement, too angry to say much more. You began to fall in and out of consciousness, the power Rhys had thrown at you too much to handle. The last thing you remember was Azriel yelling for a healer, placing you onto a bed that smelled like him.

***

You were laid out on a stretch of grass near the Sidra, a book in your hands. You hummed to yourself, turning another page. You were hardly taking the words in, mind distracted by your most recent outing with Rhys. The new High Lord was certainly charming, daydreaming about him every second you were apart.

You thought about the way he had kissed you when he dropped you off back home, the way his hands cupped your face. The gentle words he whispered into your lips, praising your beauty and mind. You hadn’t been in love before, but you were certain you were now. You smiled to yourself at the thought.

Footsteps approached you and you turned to find Azriel. “Hello,” you greeted, moving into a sitting position. You patted the spot next to you for him to sit as well.

“Hello,” he said back, sitting next to you. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, some new romance I found at the library. Truthfully, i’m finding it a little hard to focus.” You giggled, not having told your friend what’s been going on. You knew he and Rhys were like brothers, but something felt off about telling him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He pried, reading your body language.

“Okay,” you began, turning to face him. “But you can’t get mad!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I’d never get mad at you.”

“Rhys has been courting me, and I think he’s going to make it official soon.” Your words were met with a stunned silence. Your smile faltered, worried your friend was uncomfortable that you were going with his brother.

“Oh.” Was all Azriel said, staring blankly at you.

“Is that okay? I hope I didn’t upset you. He’s just so sweet and handsome and ugh!” You gushed, throwing yourself back down onto the blanket.

Azriel remained stoic next to you, sucking the joy out of your announcement. “That’s great.” He said dully, not sounding like it was great at all. He stood abruptly, beginning to walk away. “I have to go. Urgent meeting just came up.”

He was gone before you could say another word.

***

Ahhhhh I so hope you guys enjoyed this part!!! You got a little snippet of what happened all those years ago at the end, the next part will hold Azriel’s account of what happened between him and Rhys. Please let me know what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist!!!!!

Taglist: @amara-moonlight @tothestarsandwhateverend @onlyangellh @hnyclover @greenapplesaucepi @just-a-social-casualty-1 @heyyitsnat21 @mirandasidefics @bubybubsters s @mybestfriendmademe

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mare-jeon-calore-haviliard · 9 months

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The rant I want Lucien to have in his book

Lucien: I'm done, I quit. Rhysand: What? Lucien: I don't want to be your liaison to Spring anymore. I'm fucking tired of it. Rhysand: We have nobody else to do the job. Lucien: Well, that's not my fucking problem, is it? I risk my ass every other week checking in on my abuser in Spring because you're too prissy to do it. I'm doing my very best to keep Spring afloat all while you make my job harder by kicking a downed male. Rhysand: But- Lucien: Did I give you permission to speak, you prick? You force me to do this job because I'm the only one with halfway decent connections to spring. What the hell were you doing for diplomacy before I came here? No wonder every other court fucking hates you. I've done nothing but bail your asses out and I get no respect or appreciation from any of you. The one holiday I opt to come here for, your mate laughs at me for not having a home. Well, guess what? I did have a home back in Spring before you and your stupid Inner Circle took that from me! Rhysand: If you're asking me to apologize- Lucien: All I wanted was some fucking respect and appreciation for what I'm doing. But that's too much for any of you to ask. You can barely stomach the sight of me. Rhysand: You must understand, after what happened back in Spring- Lucien: And how was any of that my fault? I tried my hardest to support Feyre while also trying to keep Tamlin and Spring afloat. Tamlin physically assaulted me. I was forced to do Calanmai with Ianthe for the sake of my court. How dare you try to pin this on me after all that shit you pulled UTM. Rhysand: You will do as I say, Lucien, or else- Lucien: You'll what? Murder my mate? Absolutely no chance with Feyre and Nesta hanging around. Murder me? I'd like to see you fucking try, you overgrown bat. You think you're so creative with the death threats. News flash, Beron has been throwing them at me my entire life. While we're on the subject of fathers, what the hell do you think of yourself, trying to keep mine from me? Rhysand: Why would you want to be near Ber- Lucien: You're an awful liar, Rice Cake. Maybe if you'd actually practiced diplomacy over the years you'd learn to bluff and lie. As it is, I figured out my biological father was Helion. Were you planning on keeping that information from me until it suited you? Rhysand: Lucien- Lucien: Spare me the bullshit. If you really care so much, find somebody else for the job. My best friend is about to be repossessed by a death god and I really don't have time to be playing therapist to an overgrown beast. Rhysand: But- Lucien: Bye bitch!

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mare-jeon-calore-haviliard · 10 months

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[Name]: you were.. a wonderful experience.

. . .

Lyney: and you were everything.

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mare-jeon-calore-haviliard · 10 months

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Jude: *falls from the ceiling* *is bleeding to death*

Cardan: ok, real quick before I save you, you are a fucking LIAR—

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mare-jeon-calore-haviliard · 10 months

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Angstmas 2023: Day 9/25

9 - "Don't act like you care now" Azriel x ArcheronSister!Reader

Reader is jealous about Azriel's bond with Elain

Angstmas 2023

You’re my mate

That was the last thing Azriel had said to you when you had pulled yourself out of the cauldron, choking and coughing as you collapsed on the floor.

He had run to you, pulling you up and when his eyes met yours the words, “You’re my mate” had slipped from his lips.

You hadn’t spoken to him since. You had seen him, almost daily. But he never looked at you, his eyes always on Elain. He would walk with her in the gardens. He would fill her plate with food and bring it to her at the dinner table. He would read to her at the fire late at night. He was there for her like he had been there for you before the cauldron.

When Cassian and Azriel had come to your father’s house with Feyre, you had clicked immediately. You had tried to be the peacekeeper between your sisters, as you always had, but it ended up with Feyre and Nesta arguing and Nesta grabbing onto Elain’s wrist and going upstairs. Feyre had sighed and muttered something about getting some sleep and Cassian had followed her.

You hadn’t realized Azriel had stayed until you felt the presence of someone beside you at the kitchen table. You lifted your head where you had rested it when the yelling became too much and looked over to see Azriel looking down at you.

“It’s not your fault,” he says. You raise a confused eyebrow. “They are arguing. It’s not your fault. You tried to stop them and I watched the light behind your eyes disappear as your words went unnoticed.”

You stare up at him. No one had taken any notice of you, ever. Nesta was the oldest, regal and proper. She knew how to hold herself in a crowd and confidence oozed off of her, making every stare. Elain was gentle and kind, her long hair and big eyes had everyone calling upon her. Feyre was just as beautiful as her sisters, athletic and loyal. There was something about her that drew everyone’s eyes.

You were too young to enjoy life when your family had money and too young to realize what was happening in the dynamics of your family before it was too late. You hated when your sisters fought, tried to get Elain to help you create peace between Nesta and Feyre, but she was never any help.

“I always go unnoticed,” you say, regretting the words as soon as they’ve left your mouth. Nesta and Feyre had taken care of you. You shouldn’t be ungrateful, but Nesta would never care for you like she did for Elain.

There’s a long stretch of silence and you really regret saying it. He didn’t even know you, why would he care what you think? The insecurities and the trauma in your family? You look over at him to apologize by there’s something in his expression that stops you.

“I noticed you,” he says.

You scoff as you bring a glass to your lips, the alcohol burning down your throat as you try to drown out the memory of the first time you met Azriel. I noticed you, you snort. You’re my mate, you bring the glass to your lips, but a hand pulls it away from you and you turn to see Nesta leaning against the bar beside you.

“What number is this?” Nesta asks, setting it on the counter and sliding it back to the bartender.

“Why do you care? You were lost in the bottle a few months ago,” you snap, trying to wave the bartender back for another one but you almost slip off the chair. Nesta’s eyes narrow. “Let me cope how I want too, okay?”

Nesta shakes her head as you step off the stool and begin to walk towards the exit, stumbling along the way. She grabs your waist to help you, you’re smart enough not to push her away. You weren’t the steadiest right now. “I shouldn’t have coped with alcohol for any reason, but I did it because of the cauldron,” Nesta states, as you step out in the cold night. You shiver as she begins guiding you to the TownHouse. “You’re turning to the bottle because of what? Azriel took a liking to Elain?”

You stop your sister before she can push open the door to the Townhouse. “He’s my mate, Nes,” you snap. Nesta’s face shifted into one of surprise. You shove open the door, stumbling as it swings with your weight. Nesta lunges to grab you before you fall and you shove her away from you.

As you straighten, you catch sight of two figures sitting on the couch in the sitting room. Azriel and Elain stare at you. Azriel’s eyes are full of concern. You groan and look up at the ceiling, wondering what you did to deserve any of this.

“I am going to bed,” you say, making a move towards the stairs but missing the step and stumbling forward.

Someone catches your arm and whispers, “What’s wrong?”

You glare up at Azriel, ripping your elbow from his grip. “Nothing wrong,” you say. His eyes narrow when he smells the alcohol on your breath. You cock your head to where Elain is still sitting, watching the both of you intently. “You better get back to her, wouldn’t want her to get lost without you to help her.”

You sober up enough to get up the stairs, using the wall to help you balance as you get to your room slamming the door shut behind you and collapsing into your bed. You awake to a sharp knocking on your door and then a stream of light pouring across your floor as the door creaks open.

You sit up and squint until Azriel comes into focus. He stands beside your bed with a tray of food, placing it beside you. “You slept through dinner,” he says.

You roll your eyes, laying back down. “Don’t act like you care now,” you state.

“What do you mean? I’ve always cared,” he says in confusion.

You scoff. “Sure,” you retort, your head hurting too much to have this argument with him. Your eyes drift to the food and you immediately feel nauseous. “Thanks for the food. You can go now.”

He shakes his head and says, “No, I want to know why you feel like I don’t care. What have I done to show I don’t care?”

You sit up and turn to stare at him. “What have you done after the cauldron to show you do?” you snap, “You came over to me, told me I was your mate, and then have barely looked at me since. If you didn’t want me as a mate, you didn’t have to shut me out completely.”

Azriel is silent for a long stretch of time. His face contorted with guilt. You swallow the lump in your throat, he was in love with Elain. He was mated to the wrong sister.

You break the silence. “Elain is easy to love and now that she’s Fae it’s even easier to fall for her beauty, her kindness, her gentleness. I get it,” you say, your voice catching with emotion at the end and you turn away from him.

Azriel says your name and moves around the bed to bring his hands to your cheeks, gently moving your face so you’re looking up at him.

“I thought you might love me before I went into the cauldron,” you say, it was as if you couldn’t stop the thoughts from coming out. “You always spent time with me. You made a point to make me feel seen, was any of it real?”

Azriel gives you a pained smile. “I do care for you. I’ve always wanted to make you feel seen, heard, noticed but-,”

“But you’ve always loved her,” you finish. You pull away from him as he gives you a small nod. “I am sorry you were mated to me. You should have been mated with her. She should be mated to you, not that male from Spring Court.”

Azriel lets his hands drop to his sides. “It’s better to be mated, but you don’t need to be with your mate.” It felt like someone had stabbed you in your heart as the words left his mouth. You gasp for air and look down at your chest to make sure you weren’t actually stabbed.

He quickly grabs your elbow, an apology slipping from his lips but you pull away from him as if his touch burned you. “That’s why I was keeping my distance, the more we are together the stronger the bond and the worse our distance will become,” he explains quickly.

You could feel it now. The need to be close to him. The need to kiss him, to touch him, to wrap yourself around him until you became one, but you could feel the foundation cracking. “We will need to continue our distance, until we can barely feel the bond,” he says.

Crack, crack, crack. You felt like you were going to collapse as your heart constricted with the pressure.

“It’ll become easier to ignore,” he continues, but you’re too focused on the pain. Did he feel like he was dying too? Did his heart feel like it would explode at any moment? “Despite this distance, I do care for you. Since I met you, I have thought of you as a sister. That’s why I went out of my way to make sure you were noticed, as I have felt that way many times in my childhood.”

You frown. First, you were a friend to him, and now a sister? You had fallen in love with him, the cauldron had deemed you mates, and he still saw you as a sister? You felt embarrassed and angry.

“Get out,” you say, cutting his monologue about how you were a sister to him short. He steps back in shock at your outburst. You point towards the door. “Get out.”

Azriel frowns. “I don’t understand. We weren’t anything before this. Why are you acting like this?”

“Acting like what?” you ask angrily, throwing your arms up. “I was in love with you before the cauldron and then we were mates, and I didn’t understand what that meant but then I saw Rhysand and Feyre and thought to myself, wow the universe also agrees that Azriel and I should be together, but then you ignored me. You waited beckon call on my sister, the sister that you knew I compared myself too, the sister that everyone preferred over me. Then the only person that had ever noticed me, who I love, who I am mated to, comes into my room and tells me he thinks of me as a sister. So, please, get out.”

Azriel looks at you in shock as you pant, because it felt great to get that off your chest. The chest that still was constricting and begging you to run into his arms. You cross your hands to stop your hands from itchy to reach forward to touch him.

“I didn’t know,” Azriel finally says. “I am sorry.”

You shake your head, turning away from him. “Just leave me alone,” you state. “Like you said, distance will be good for us.”

Your heart cracks with every step he takes away from you. You can feel the ache in your chest grow as you feel his presence move downstairs and then you don’t feel it at all. You collapse to the ground, a hand on your chest as you become overwhelmed with emotions. As you feel the ache in your chest disappear, the longing to be with someone dissipating, you didn’t even realize it was someone you could lose.

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