#( verse : high lady of the dusk court )

[deathsconsort]

@valkyrd

how can things change so drastically in such a short amount of time? one moment she was blissfully happy with her mate, excited to tell him they were expecting. she saw their future so clearly, the two of them ruling the dusk court together, their friends by their side, and them spoiling their baby with so much love. it was perfect and more than nesta could have dreamed for herself, so it shouldn’t have crushed her the way it did when that future crumbled right before her. whenever things seem to be going well and she’s happy it never lasts long, something always happens to ruin it.

however, there was one blessing; the fact that she didn’t tell cassian about her pregnancy before he made his decision. she still didn’t know all the faerie laws, didn’t know if any existed for such a situation, nor did she care. she didn’t know if she would have been stuck there in the night court or if rhysand would have forced her to stay because she was carrying cassian’s baby. not that she’d listen to him, but it would have made things more complicated. and there was no way she was going to tell cassian about the pregnancy in an attempt to get him to go with her, she couldn’t stand the thought of him only agreeing because she was pregnant.

upon rebuilding the dusk court and setting up the valkyries, as well as welcoming people to live within the court, nesta had been keeping her pregnancy hidden. using her magic she is able to disguise her scent, not covering it up completely but just enough to alter it so no one can detect she’s with child. thankfully it takes a good few months for a bump to show and when it started to it was small enough for her to cover it with looser fitting gowns and blouses. the last thing she needed was someone finding out and gossiping about her, then somehow getting to the night court. a visit from cassian was the last thing she wanted to deal with.

nesta was nearing six months now and it was beginning to be impossible to hide her bump or how easily tired she became. she knew this day would come, but she still didn’t know what to do or how to tell her friends, if they’d react badly or think her a horrible person for keeping it a secret from them and the baby’s father. nearly every night since becoming high lady she contemplated her plan, lying in bed wide awake as the thoughts nearly suffocated her. and still she doesn’t have the faintest clue on how to go about it.

her best plan had been to invite gwyn to her chambers for a girl’s night, slumber party included if she wanted to end up sleeping in the same room with her once she told her the truth. maybe it was cowardly, but she didn’t want to tell emerie and gwyn together in case the reaction wasn’t one she’d hoped for. one of the wondrous things about this palace was that it was alive in the same way the house of wind was, whether they’re connected or just similar was unknown to her, but it gave her comfort. it had laid about a bunch of sweet treats for them, books ( some of which were questionable smut ), tea and juice, materials for bracelet making, and a table filled with things for manicures. nesta wore an oversized fuzzy sweatshirt and pajama shorts, knowing it probably looked a bit ridiculous since it was still summer.

they were a little over an hour into their girls night when nesta finally conjured up enough courage…if gwyn was going to get mad at her and leave she’d rather her do it now rather than when they’re too deep into it. they sat on nesta’s bed while making bracelets, nesta now better at braiding the string than she was when gwyn first taught her. “so..” she started. her eyes didn’t stray from the bracelet she was working on. “there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you and i waited so long because i didn’t know how to tell you or anyone. i still don’t. and i’m afraid of what you’ll say. but i know it’s impossible to keep hiding it.” nesta blew out a big sigh and looked up from her bracelet to gwyn. “i’m pregnant…nearly six months pregnant.”

[silverflamcs]

@wyrdbones​

     “gwyn, i have something to ask of you.” nesta tried to sound casual, but there was no mistaking the slight edge to her voice. grooming the pegasi had kept her occupied this afternoon. it was her attempt to not think about the letter she had received this morning and the anxious feeling that had been gnawing at her ever since. “there was a letter brought to me this morning about a high lady and lord meeting.” she began braiding a small section of calista’s mane. “it’s going to happen three weeks from now. i feel like a coward for asking this, but will you come too? i’m going to ask emerie later today. i’ll feel more at ease with both of you there. especially considering who will most likely be there…” nesta couldn’t stop the ache in her heart when thinking about cassian. if she could reach inside her own chest and pull out her heart so she never has to feel again she would. the prospect of seeing cassian again made her blood turn to ice after everything that happened between them. “rhysand will have cassian and azriel there, so it wouldn’t be odd to have my two best valkyries there.”

[maybeiwasjustjade]

Upcoming ACOTAR fics: Little Sprout Verse

A series of one-shots set before, during, and after Koschei’s War, and mostly focuses around Tamlin and his various relationships as the years change.

Set twelve years after the events of HOFAS (bare knowledge necessary), and nearly three after the end of Koschei’s War, Prythian has entered an era of peace unseen since the days of King Fionn himself.

To an outsider, anyway. The reality isn’t as pretty.

The Seasonal Courts have finally found a balance in their coexistence. Autumn finds itself in an era of prosperity and growth under its newly crowned High Lord. Summer staggered at first, but with the finalization of its codified equality laws and a first successful season of its Council of Voices, High Lord Tarquin’s dreams are soon to be a reality. Winter has welcomed a new heir—a son, to join their growing family.

Spring has been revitalized, nearly comparable in splendor to how it was in the years before Amarantha. Cities have been rebuilt, and more and more of Spring citizens have returned from their refuge. Century-long alliances respected; a family reunited at last. And soon, its citizen will celebrate in the most grand celebration: the upcoming nuptials between their beloved High Lord and High Lady.

The Solar Courts, however, have increasingly found themselves in disarray. Though Day prospers as it always has, High Lord Helion finds himself heartbroken over the discovery and subsequent rejection of his only son, who has returned to Spring. Dawn stands strong in its neutrality, but chaotic forces from the north seeks to destabilize their hard-earned peace.

A rebellion has formed in the far north. Citizens have fled in dead night, with no traces to be found. Dead, maimed males found scattered over the Illyrian Steppes. Natural disasters ravage the western bank of Night. The Night Court stands alone, its Inner Circle fractured beyond repair as sides are drawn, and mating bonds break. The newly risen Dusk Court has returned to stake its claim on what is rightfully theirs.

The agreed biennial High Lords meeting is soon upon them. A recon mission gone wrong has resulted in multiple hostages in the hands of Night’s sworn enemy. Grudges will be settled; recompense will be delivered. For the High Lady of Spring is out for blood.

[foxcort]

Nesta should’ve known better than to tell her not to do something.

written for day 3: alternate universe of @feylinweek. / or dusk court princess feyre and spring court prince tamlin au 🌹

a/n: a note beforehand for some revised world building: so instead of the canon version of everyone celebrating 'holidays/events' in their own court, i thought it would be cooler if the celebrations were held in the court themed after it! for example everyone would go to the spring court for calanmai, summer court for summer solstice, night court for starfall, etc. and i've done just that for the summer solstice celebration in this little fic! oh and also high ladies are just a normal Thing in this au.

tw: it gets kinda risqué towards the end but nothing explicit

“Keep clear of Bhaltair’s sons.” Nesta’s whisper, so close to the shell of her ear, sent an involuntary shiver up Feyre’s back, even as she glanced up and across the crowded Summer Palace at the three honey-blond males standing near the High Lord of Spring like sentinels.

An irritated gust of wind left Nesta’s lips. “Don’t look.”

“Sorry.” She wasn’t. Nesta should’ve known better than to tell her not to do something.

“Just— Be careful.” Her sister’s eyes rolled, mouth set in a thin line. “From what I hear, they’re not a far step from their father.” And with that she set a path towards the gardens, no doubt seeking Elain, the dusky purple of her dress trailing after her.

Sipping delicately at the faerie wine clutched in her hand, Feyre risked another glimpse at the offending High Lord and his sons, eyes peering over her glass, guided by the almost electric feeling in the air brought on by the Summer Solstice celebrations.

The eldest was standing closest to his father, an air of arrogance strong enough for her to feel from even across the room surrounding him. He spoke in tandem to the High Lord’s cadence — learning how to play court politics from someone who was well versed in it — as other High Fae sought them out.

The second, most distinguishable from the generous length of his hair, did nothing to hide the bored, irritated look on his face, though he stood diligently by his father and brothers’ sides.

The youngest . . . Feyre’s gaze lingered on him where he stood behind them all. He was dressed similarly to his brothers, in rich, airy clothing of warm greens and wood brown, though the tunic clung a little tighter to his chest than the others. His head was angled slightly downward, arms loosely clasped behind him, a neutral expression on his face.

A flicker of kindred loneliness flew through her. Bhaltair and the High Lady of the Dusk Court were not so different in the ways they showed their youngest children affection.

As if he could feel that twinge of emotion, his eyes suddenly lifted, brilliant green cutting through the room and snagging onto hers. Feyre nearly jumped, dropping her gaze and taking another sip of the faerie wine to busy herself, as her heart thundered in her chest. When she gained the courage to peek in his direction again, she saw he was no longer looking at her, but a wide, dimpled smile curved his mouth.

It was her turn to make an irritated noise, setting her glass down on the nearest table, and weaving effortlessly through the crowd, intent on not sparing the youngest another glance. The cacophony of the celebrations slowly died out as she walked further and further away, making the sound of following footsteps all the more prominent.

Still, she didn't look back.

Not until it felt like she and him were the only two people in the entire Summer Palace. Only then did she stop short, abruptly grabbing the door handle to what she knew was an empty room and threw it open. A soft laugh chased her in, and the two of them stumbled into the dark room, his hand finding hers, fingers twining as he placed a kiss upon the back of it.

The door closed shut. "Did I do something wrong?" Even in the dark, she could hear the smile in his voice.

Feyre didn't pull her hand from his — she'd missed the touch of him too much — but she held herself from completely melting in his embrace. "Besides making it very obvious that we're not exactly strangers?"

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb stroking over her skin. "It's not easy when you look at me like that." Something kicked in her chest at the soft way he teased her. Not at the insinuation that her own perusal of him wasn't very stealthy either. But at the thoughts, the feelings that had occupied her for the briefest of seconds.

He had felt it — that drop of loneliness welling within her — even with a crowd of fae between them.

Understanding that she wasn't ready to speak about it yet, he went to his knees in front of her, one hand stroking up her bare leg, through the slit down the side of her dress. "I know a few ways I could beg for forgiveness."

Heat scorched through her and his palm felt like a brand upon her skin. Feyre's breath hitched, "Then beg."

A sharp, feral grin replaced his moments-ago soft laughter and Feyre was reminded that despite all the pleasantry and the fine clothing, he was as wild and unbidden as a spring storm.

But before he could put that mouth to good use, her fingers clutched at his chin and she tilted his face upward, earning a low chuckle of approval. "Tamlin," she warned, "Watch your claws this time." Feyre felt his fingers flex over the back of her thigh, rising higher. "It was easy to convince mother the tear in my dress was my own clumsiness, but I think Nesta's suspicious."

Tamlin turned his face into the palm of her hand, placing a kiss there as he murmured, "I'll be careful. I'm sorry."

Again, she felt that kick to her heart. And the image of him kneeling in front of her, the husky confession falling from his lips, the thrill of being cloaked in darkness— control and caution was quickly slipping through her fingers.

Feyre pulled him upward even as she descended, meeting him halfway in a searing kiss. He quickly rose to his feet again, lifting her into his arms, her thighs framing his hips, her back pressed against the nearest wall. Until there was not even a breath of space between them.

"Tamlin." A breathless gasp of his name. Somewhere between a demand and a plea, and he understood as he traced his affections over her skin.

Here, in this clandestine pocket of their world, she could pretend they were miles away.

Here, she felt the rhythm of his heart beneath her palms and knew that it beat for her.

a/n: basically what if the secret rendezvous utm was done in a less stressful (less lives on the line) situation. named after the moonvine flower because they bloom at dusk (feyre) + they're flowers (tamlin) can you tell im so good at fic titles. hope you guys enjoyed this one!

[ehlane]

canon verse. post-sf, headcanon based.

first, some disclaimers: my ideas here do not represent any theories i have about the future plot of the books. additionally, if your character is mentioned below, we do not have to do this nor do you have to subscribe to it! i’m happy to redefine and replot things for our threads and dynamic. this is just a general starting point.

shortly after the events of acosf and hofas, elain decides it’s time to take more of an active role in the events transpiring to her family and in prythian; she enlists the help of rhysand and nesta to become tutors of history, politics, and physical training. although elain has no aspirations of becoming a warrior like her sisters, she knows the importance of having that skillset. her gardening business becomes a lower priority, and outside of devoting her time to the above avenues, she begins to try and manage her seer powers with help from multiple sources (feyre, amren, and/or morrigan.)

this then splits into different potential plotlines.

day court. amongst all the large changes in elain’s life, spending time with lucien and eventually accepting their mating bond is one of them, and his learning of his true heritage is another. they leave behind their political ties to the night court and relocate to day, where, after some time, helion and his high priestess perform a ritual that passes the high lord’s powers to lucien without death being a component. the newly mated couple then take on the mantle of leaders, focusing on allegiances that can help in the upcoming fight against koschei.

dusk court. when nesta and elain are spending time together, learning the history of the fae they now find themselves a part of, they discover they both possess an intrinsic tie to the ruins of the dusk court and its prison. (i know this is going to be something featured in the upcoming books so i won’t waste time on creating a large amount of lore that will be retconned.) they decide to leave the night court, nesta and her valkyrie’s becoming the military faction of the rebuilding territory and elain their high lady.

the canon crossover. elain decides to explore the ruined dusk court and prison, unwittingly opening a portal to either erilea or midgard.

[siderealxmelody]

Does anyone want to plot/do a thread set in like Night Court Lady Feyre verse 👀 where like Feyre and Remus are together and she is trying to prove herself and buts heads with Seraphine?

And like is trying to establish herself and learn the courtly ropes??

I feel High Lady Seraphine has Ianthe vibes in being super sweet and will use information against people who piss her off 👀

I mean super loyal and loving to those who've earned it (ie Remus, Night Court family) but lol shes bitchy to outsiders. And she grew up in Hewn so you know she has that sharp tongue/double speak training 👀

@sankta-alina-s - Okay but I made Aemma (Annie's older sister) and Viserys (Heir to Dusk) have a child before they died. Silas was like 18 or whatever when the war ended. Anyway, Alina's Tsarina verse 👀 where Silas abdicates and passes Dusk to Ivan and Alina??

@luxmaeastra - I feel Ella or Emmie would be friends with Feyre? Idk

@starlsssankt - lol you know Rhys finds this entire thing amusing

[erobret]

Acotar!midna headcanons p1

the court dusk was more "tribal" with their clothing. I imagine not only did they dress like tp twili but also totk zonai people

Midna has the ability to levitate like in tp and hw

She is able to use the shadows to fight by either having them physically attack or even morphing them into shadow beasts or weapons.

Since her shadows were once her people it means they have names

The one shadow on azriel thar doesn't shy away from the sun is link ( I decided to incorporate him in her acotar verse by having him being a young fae male that she was very fond of )

She can still use her hair as like an extra hand like in the game

Shadow singers are strongest during the hours of Twilight

Midna is the tallest of the high lords/ladies ( she'd be taller by a few inches of the tallest )

She is very talented at the harp

She is skilled with spears

Her people were culturally known for their dancing which was more sensual ( belly dancing and tango and such )

She'll constantly question her place in the world now that she no longer has a court or a people to rule over

[ariadnethedragon]

ACOTAR & CC Theories (Part 2): The Starborn, Queen Theia and her daughters

DISCLAIMER: I appreciate others may have already thought of this, i just finished HOSAB last night and my brain is reeling so I made this post to organise my thoughts/theories and wanted to share it.

Where did the Starborn Fae come from?

At the end of HOSAB when Bryce discovers the Asteri's secret, Rigelus reveals to her the origin of the Starborn Fae:

A 'lovely verdant land, rich with magic'....ughh PRYTHIAN.

'The mainland had all manner of climes'....SJM is definitely alluding to the courts there which all have different weather

So if the mainland is Prythian then this small Isle must definitely be the Prison, which was originally the eighth court, the forgotten DUSK Court!!!

Also, in ACOSF, when Nesta goes to the Prison to retrieve the Harp, it is located on the centre of an eight-pointed star--a symbol of the Starborn fae and the same-shaped star that marks Bryce, the Starborn heir's chest

***

Who was Queen Theia?

So in CC HOEAB we learn that Theia was a Starborn Queen who entered Midgard during the Crossing. Based on the previous evidence, she most definitely is part of the Dusk Court.

Also since she was a Queen rather than a High Lady, this must have been during the time that Prythian was ruled by the Fae High King mentioned in ACOSF.

This Fae High King, Fionn, owned a magic sword known as Gwydion, which we find out in HOSAB is the Starsword.

The Queen here could definitely be Theia and the High general could be Pelias. Why they betrayed/killed the High King, I don't know, but I feel like Pelias is a manipulative and sneaky fucker who could have tricked Theia.

This capacity for betrayal makes sense when we find out in HOSAB that Pelias sides with the Asteri, kills Theia and forces her oldest daughter Helena into marriage, making himself Prince.

We find out in HOSAB that the Fae (Theia, Pelias and her people, the Dusk Court) were lured into Midgard by the Asteri. They make this crossing through the use of Luna's Horn:

This could mean that the Horn could be the fourth item in the Dread Trove. This makes sense when we remember the vision Lanthys shows Nesta in ACOSF:

Also in ACOSF, Amren says that Gwydion vanished long ago, along with fourth item in the Dread Trove. This matches up with the time line of Theia and Pelias stealing the Starsword from Fionn and using the Horn to make the Crossing.

And if the Horn is the fourth item then, the other item Rigelus alludes to is most definitely the Harp as it can 'open doors, physical or otherwise. Some say between worlds'. Also, the Harp is found by Nesta in the Prison which we said is the eighth court.

We can also assume that the Asteri are the original owners of the Dread Trove, which explains how they had been able to access and control various different worlds.

Back to the Crossing--after entering Midgard, Theia and her daughters realised too late that they have been tricked:

Presuming the Prison/Eighth Court was where the Fae had made the Crossing, this location would have been one of the 'access points' that had been sealed and this would explain why the walls of the Prison seem to have people trapped in them:

Furthermore, in Part 1 of this post, I mentioned that Koschei and Stryga (the Weaver) could be or be related to the Daglan/Asteri. This is significant when Rigelus talks about the 'access points' hidden by his 'siblings' in the ACOTAR-verse that Theia or her daughters manage to close.

In ACOWAR, the Bone Carver mentions that Koschei and Stryga had long ago been tricked and confined to certain areas in the ACOTAR-verse: Stryga to the Middle and Koschei to a small lake in the Mainland. This confinement was carried out by an ancient Fae warrior whose existence predated the High Lords, i.e during the time of the High King:

What caught my eye here was that although the name of this Fae warrior had been forgotten to time, a trace of her still runs through some'human line'...could the Bone Carver be talking about half-human Bryce who is the Starborn Heir.

The Fae warrior could have been Theia or one of her daughters.

Queen Theia's Daughters

Theia has two daughters, the oldest Helena is forced into marriage by Pelias after he kills her mother. He uses Helena to establish himself as a Starborn Prince.

In CC, we actually get a description of Helena's colouring: 'Night haired Helena, from whose golden skin poured starlight and shadows'. This is similar to Ruhn's colouring and subsequently Rhysand's.

Which brings me back to the younger daughter, who 'got away--vanished into the night'. Presuming this daughter looks like her older sister, she could potentially be Rhys' ancestor, if she managed to escape back into Prythian.

This makes sense when it's revealed in ACOMAF that the High Lord of Night's blood is keyed to the gates of the Prison, the original Eighth/Dusk Court. It would make sense that the blood of these High Lord's can open the Prison as they are descendants of the original Dusk Court rulers.

[daevastanner]

Gwynriel: Starfall

Gwyn and Azriel re-evaluate where they stand

(Warning: trope and fluff overload incoming)

Azriel arrived at the river house with a half hour to spare.

The stars would begin falling soon, but that wasn’t why his footsteps were taken with haste or why he nearly tripped over his own feet entering the foyer.

He was late and nearly five minutes from breaking his promise to Gwyn.

At their last training session she’d informed Azriel that she was leaving the priestesshood. That she no longer felt she required protection and that there were other people more in need of sanctuary than herself.

“I feel… liberated. But also sad,” Gwyn frowned as they did their cool down stretches. “Does that make sense?”

Azriel nodded, stretching his arm behind his head. “Of course. It’s always sad when something comes to an end.”

Gwyn smiled wryly. “They said I’m still welcome to the dusk services to sing. Though I will admit, the crowd at Rita’s is a far more interactive audience.”

Azriel had smiled fondly. This past summer Gwyn had taken to joining the inner circle at Rita’s and in autumn she’d allowed Morrigan to drag her to the platform for a duet. At first her teal eyes had been wide with fright but the moment she had opened her mouth, harmonizing with Morrigan and saw the patron’s enthusiastic response any sign of stage fright vanished. She had been radiant. Azriel’s jaw had dropped at her voice, at her smile, and when he applauded their performance it hadn’t just been to flatter Morrigan as usual, it had been pure awe that brought his hands together.

“You are becoming the bar’s most infamous customer,” Azriel grinned. “But it’s understandable to miss what you no longer have.”

Gwyn exhaled, a lock of copper hair blowing out of her sweaty face. “I haven’t decided if I’m attending the priestess’s Starfall party. I know I’m welcome but… it feels strange.”

Azriel didn’t waste a breath. “Come to the river house.”

Gwyn’s brows raised and a smirk spread on her lips. “How very forward of you, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel was grateful they’d been sparring or else she may have noticed that he was blushing furiously. It had been a little less than a year since that night by the Sidra. That night where they had both confessed their feelings for one another… and decided to hold off. Hold off until they were ready.

Well, Azriel was ready now. He had been for sometime. But the shadowsinger didn’t dare make the first move. Of the two of them, Gwyn needed to be the one to initiate. The one to take that first step. It was an unspoken agreement. She was in control of what happened between them, but it wasn’t a mystery that her feelings had persevered despite her hesitance to move forward.

The two had become well versed in flirting and exchanging banter. It came second nature. So second nature that Azriel’s entire family snickered and teased that the two were blind. That they were oblivious to one another’s affections. How very wrong they were and how little desire Azriel and Gwyn had to correct them. Not out of fear but because they didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

“I’m sure everyone would be glad if you attended, Gwyn,” Azriel added, trying to sound nonchalant. “Your call. It would also be a good way to ask Rhysand about employing you full time as a Valkyrie.”

He glimpsed in those clever eyes that she had seen right through him. That Gwyn knew this had nothing to do with the convenience for her recent life change. No, this was all Azriel wanting her to come to Starfall. To spend the evening with her.

“Very well. I’ll go. But promise you’ll be there…”

Azriel sent a crooked smile her way - the one he knew made her knees weak. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

And so she had agreed, grousing that she had nothing to wear. It didn’t take much convincing the following day to get Nesta to take her shopping.

And now here he was, straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair in the foyer of the river house.

He leaned against the bannister of the staircase to catch his breath, all the while he felt his shadows dancing excitedly on his shoulders.

…Gwyn? Gwyn? Gwyn?… they chorused.

“Relax,” Azriel muttered. “She’ll be here.”

“Look at you,” Rhysand whistled, striding into the room with Nyx on his hip. “Since when do you take this occasion so seriously, Az?”

Azriel gestured to Nyx. “It’s the heir to the Night Court’s first Starfall. It’s a serious occasion.”

“Mm, I’m sure that’s it.” The High Lord locked eyes with his son. “Yes, I’m sure it has nothing to do with the priestess upstairs pacing a hole in my floor.” He cast a knowing look Azriel’s way. “Or former priestess, as it were.”

Azriel felt his chest swell with pride. So it was official. She’d come out with it. “She told you then.”

Rhys nodded, returning his full attention to his son. “We’ll set her up with some quarters in the House. I’ll have her on my tab by the end of the week.”

“Thank you, Rhysand,” Azriel said, his gratitude nearly palpable.

But the High Lord shook his head. “I’m lucky to have her in my employment. She’ll make a fine member of our defense.” He smirked. “And she will continue to put you and Cassian’s reports to shame.”

Azriel ducked his head, smiling to himself. He was so, so very proud of her. Not just for already being such a promising member of Rhysand’s inner circle but also for her courage.

So many bold steps forward she had taken. Never once looking back. Always taking a deep breath and then plunging head first into uncharted waters.

She’d left the library. She’d started taking on assignments. She’d roamed the streets of Velaris. And now she’d left the priestesshood.

Azriel marveled to himself about what she would do next.

Joint laughter sounded from above drawing Azriel’s eyes up to the top of the staircase.

Feyre, Elain, and Morrigan softly treaded down the steps. Each of them looked more dazzling than the last.

At the foot of the stairs Feyre outstretched her arms for Nyx, smiling ear to ear. Rhysand surrendered his son and the High Lord and Lady took their leave cooing at their nearly one year old heir.

Morrigan and Elain cast a quick look Azriel’s way. He greeted them both with a wave to which they responded with knowing smiles.

Azriel’s brows furrowed at their behavior, but his attention didn’t linger on their retreating forms for a second longer. His shadows very quickly herded his line of sight back to the top of the staircase.

He heard her before he saw her.

“You look amazing,” whispered Emerie.

“You’re going to pull a thread loose if you keep up your fidgeting…” said Nesta.

Azriel’s lips parted as Gwyn, Nesta, and Emerie came into view. The three of them wore matching shades of silver. Nesta in a backless, beaded dress and Emerie’s gown bell-sleeved and form fitting.

But between the two of them, freckled cheeks pink, was Gwyn.

And he had never seen her so exposed. So… exquisite.

Her glossy copper hair was pulled over one shoulder, and she wore no jewelry, exposing the slender column of her throat.

But most startling, most ravishing, was the gown she donned. The straps were slim and put her freckled shoulders and clavicle on display, the neckline plunging down all the way to her breastbone.

The shadowsinger struggled to keep his eyes from roving lower and admiring how the dress hugged her waist and flared out subtly at her hips and thighs.

Gwyn ran her palms down the front of the soft, silver fabric, grumbling something to Nesta. The eldest Archeron elbowed her in the ribs then jerked her chin in Azriel’s direction.

Gwyn’s head snapped up and he saw her jaw tighten. She paused at the top of the stairs meeting his gaze.

Azriel swallowed hard, and felt his knees go weak. He nearly slipped from his position leaning on the bannister but quickly caught himself, standing up straighter.

When she didn’t move, Nesta and Emerie linked their arms through hers and the three descended the stairs.

Watching them Azriel was reminded of the Valkyries in their armor. A unit that made one another stronger. A group that brought out each other’s best traits.

Emerie leaned in whispering something to Gwyn that made her smile.

Arriving at the bottom of the steps, Emerie split off and Nesta practically pushed Gwyn into Azriel, smirking.

… beautiful…. beautiful… beautiful…

I know.

But they were taking it slow. They were not moving forward just yet. Gwyn was not ready.

And that was fine.

The shadowsinger was merely glad to be in her company. All along, his shadows singing that familiar melody he couldn’t exactly make out.

He smiled at her, taking in her appearance from head to toe. “You look incredible.”

Gwyn’s fingers combed through her hair and she grimaced. “Nesta picked out the dress. I agreed to matching with her and Emerie but I didn’t agree to something so… so…”

“It’s perfect,” Azriel finished with an encouraging nod. “It’s… You’re perfect.”

Heat bloomed in her cheeks once more. “Thank you.”

Azriel bowed his head then gestured to the double glass doors that led to the patio. “Shall we?”

“Mm.”

The two headed outside and Azriel felt the strangest sensation to take her hand.

But he refrained. Not yet. Perhaps someday but not tonight.

“I heard you told Rhysand the news.”

“I did,” Gwyn confirmed. “I pretty much told everyone.”

“And?” probed the Shadowsinger. “How did it feel?”

“Exhilarating,” she smiled. “Freeing.”

The patio was dimly lit by fae light so they would better be able to see the stars. The inner circle mingled over food and drink, and Azriel saw before him nothing but pairs.

Emerie making Morrigan laugh by the lattice. Cassian with his arm around Nesta’s shoulders. Elain and Lucien conversing quietly. Varian resting his hand on the small of Amren’s back. Feyre and Rhysand kneeling on the patio, helping Nyx stand, beaming with pride.

Perhaps he and Gwyn weren’t a pair in the same sense as everyone else at the party. Not like Emerie and Morrigan openly flirting. Or Lucien and Elain tentatively courting. But that was surprisingly fine with Azriel. He felt no envy walking to the patio by Gwyn’s side. He only felt a warm sense of content.

“You look nice too, by the way,” Gwyn said as they joined his family on the patio. “Sorry I didn’t say so sooner.”

“Oh, my feelings were very hurt,” Azriel smirked.

Gwyn snorted and grabbed two glasses of champagne off of the round table at the edge of the patio. She handed him one and before she could take a sip, Azriel raised his glass to her.

“To you. To Gwyn the Valkyrie.”

Gwyn delicately tapped her flute to his then took a sip, smiling behind the rim of her drink.

The two turned their attention to the sky that seemed to glow brighter with every passing moment.

“I’m excited,” Gwyn said. “From the House we could watch the stars, but I’ve heard that in Velaris you can see them overhead.”

“Lucky for you, I know the best way to get a view of the stars.” He leaned in. “But it involves potentially dirtying your dress.”

Gwyn tore her eyes from the sky and gaped at the shadowsinger. “Well, fuck this dress in that case.”

Azriel met her gaze, arching a brow. “You’re sure?”

She bobbed her head enthusiastically.

“Very well. Once it starts I will share my secret with you, Berdara.”

She beamed at him and Azriel nearly gasped at how breathtaking the sight was. The way her teal eyes lit up and the freckles on her nose scrunched.

It did not escape Azriel’s notice, the murmurs and the glances of approval that were sent their way. The secret smiles and snickers of how blind and oblivious that Gwyn and Azriel were. He could practically hear Cassian and Nesta making bets.

Azriel grinned to himself as he imagined disclosing to his family that he and Gwyn were more than aware of each other’s affections. He imagined how Cassian’s jaw may drop as he took offense. He imagined Rhysand scoffing at his brother for keeping it all a secret from them.

“What are you smiling about?” Gwyn asked, tilting her head at Azriel.

The shadowsinger nodded his head towards Cassian and Nesta who eyed them both circumspectly. Upon noticing that both Gwyn and Azriel had caught them, the couple quickly averted their gaze.

Gwyn snorted. “Subtle.”

“When has that ever been the case with them.” He laughed into his champagne flute, taking a gulp. “They’ve been hounding us for ages.”

Gwyn did not share in his laughter. She only held her glass in both her hands and turned her eyes back to the sky.

Azriel felt guilty for saying the words. For pointing out the fact that it was obvious to everyone how happy they would be together. They didn’t know everything. They didn’t know the truth. That happiness would only come with their relationship if they waited till Gwyn was ready.

“Listen, Gwyn, I—“

And she gasped, eyes widening. “Look!”

Azriel followed her gaze to the sky where a single star streaked across. Gwyn took a step closer and the patio hushed.

“Did you see?” Gwyn said, eyes still skyward.

Azriel couldn’t help the way the corner of his lip lifted at her startled expression. “I did.”

Another star fell and another and Gwyn staggered forward, off the patio and onto the lawn.

“Oh!” She looked over her shoulder at Azriel, eyes sparkling and a heart-stopping smile on her face. “Az! Come here!”

Az. Az, she’d called him. Not Shadowsinger. Not Spymaster. Az.

Just Az.

Azriel felt Rhysand’s stare and glanced over at his brother who watched with a fond smile.

The High Lord angled his head. What are you waiting for brother?

Azriel’s ears were hot as he turned back to Gwyn. “Coming.”

He stood at her side, looking up at the sky with her as more and more stars made their way across the heavens. With each one Gwyn bobbed in place, gasping.

Behind them he heard more whispers of excitement from his family and an eager shriek from Nyx.

Azriel shifted his gaze to Gwyn. The starlight made her teal eyes sparkle and the moon set her skin glowing. Her lips parted in awe, Gwyn gazed upwards in wonder and Azriel couldn’t help the slight smile that broke out on his face.

He inclined his head, letting his knuckles brush against hers. “Follow me.”

She met his eyes with an excited grin and nodded.

Azriel started for the back of the river house. His family continued to watch the stars, only Morrigan glimpsed the two of them disappearing to the back lawn. She said nothing, only observed with a warm smile.

Alone behind the house, Azriel reached for Gwyn’s hand. She accepted and let him guide her to the center of the grounds. Then, slowly, he lowered himself to the grass, gently tugging Gwyn with him.

Without protest she descended, carefully smoothing her dress beneath her.

“Alright, lay back,” the shadowsinger said, reclining to lie down.

Gwyn mirrored his action and shivered against the grass, damp with night dew.

Azriel frowned. “Too cold?”

“No. I’m already used to it.”

And as though for once the Mother was blessing Azriel, the stars fell in a glorious parade overhead.

Gwyn gasped, hands raising to cover her mouth. “Oh, you were right. This is… amazing.”

Azriel smiled smugly, turning his attention to the night sky and the luminescent orbs that streaked across.

He remembered when it used to be him, Morrigan, Cassian, and Rhysand doing this. Watching the stars in the grass and musing softly about the future. What sort of lives they’d build and promising that it would always include one another.

It was strange to think he’d known Gwyn for only fourteen months. It felt like she’d always been there. If he didn’t think about it too hard, he could’ve sworn she’d been there during those Starfalls from centuries past.

Azriel turned his head in the grass to look at Gwyn. She watched the sky with a plaintive smile, one he could barely see.

Azriel sighed contentedly, and though above him the stars fell, he only had eyes for the female beside him. The female with eyes like shallow pools and freckles like constellations.

And then… her hand found his. She turned his palm over, eyes not leaving the sky, then threaded her fingers with his.

Azriel felt the kernel of warmth in his chest expand. He cleared his throat and looked back up at the star streaked sky.

After a moment, Azriel realized that he had never, ever, been this happy. He realized that time after time he felt this way around Gwyn. That he often found himself remarking he had never been so happy as he was in Gwyn’s presence.

“Az.”

“Yes?”

A pause. “I’m… I have a question.”

“Sure.”

She took a shaky breath and Azriel did her the courtesy of not observing her. Though he was curious as to why she’d become this quiet.

“Do you still,” she finally began, “want me?”

Azriel tried not to grip her hand tighter. His heart skipped a beat and he struggled to get himself under control.

Azriel worked a swallow down his throat. “I do.” He brought himself to turn his head and found she was staring at him. “If you’ll have me, Gwyneth Berdara, I do.”

She smiled at him.

“Are you… are you ready?” Azriel asked.

Gwyn didn’t answer. She only shifted close enough that their arms touched. Then, she tilted her head to rest on Azriel’s shoulder.

They laid in silence a few moments longer.

Azriel finally summoned the courage to speak again. “So… this is it then? We… we are… erm…”

“We are,” she said. “But let’s wait another day or so to say anything. Tonight… I want tonight to belong to us.”

Where he mustered the bravery Azriel wasn’t sure, but he allowed himself to do what he’d wanted to for so, so long.

He pressed his lips to the crown of Gwyn’s head.

Gwyn. Gwyneth Berdara.

He belonged to her and she him.

And all the while his shadows watched and sang in that same note that continued to elude him:

…mate…mate…mate…

[ofthornsandfury]

Verses I need to do more in...

Any verse where Roisin is actually Tamlin’s and the identity of her mother has been hidden leading to SURPRISE REVEALS. Cause, you know...drama. And angst. 

Verses where Elain and Azriel rule over the Dusk Court. Cause Cassandra in the Dusk Court. And Elain being a badass High Lady with Azriel at her side. Plus random Dusk fae. :)

[tenaciouscupcaketaco]

1989-2020 Poetic Work Of Mario William Vitale

1989-2020 Poetic Work Of Mario William Vitale (Manuscript of Poet Mario William Vitale) From 1993-1997 - Attended State University in Connecticut,Attempted plays : Tartuffe, Miracle Of St. Anthony and Balm in Gieade,( His poetic aspirations had in 1989 from submitting his first poem entitled, "Remembrance Of A Loved One"- (Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum)Next from 1989-1997 ( Wrote primarily for Poetry.com and The International Library Of Poetry),* Received editors choice award in 1997 for poem, " A Beacon Of Light ",(1998) Sent poetic manuscript to N.Y. Time Magazine and Chief Editor " John Hyland".Back with rave reviews !* ( From 1999-2008:Had adapted a real keen sense of style for writing poetry: ( 1999- Sent Editorial to:New Man Magazine for the Passion of Christ Movie;Sent followup letter to company with poetry platform information attached,* 2000-2007 : Magazine : ( Catholic) Maries Rose Ferron Magazine submitted poem" Beacon Of Light", which had excellent editorial reviews as the outset !2008- Wrote poem entitled: ( The Heavy Cross) to Poetry.com* Achieved Poetry status of work of Excellence in writing from the Academy Of American Poetry in which still having received rank and status as a member of Academy;* ( The Connecticut Poetry Society)* Short story submitted entitled, "China Dog Ray" submitted to Virginia WritersQuarterly, West Virginia, Also having member status on their board of Poetry.* ( Attribute Poetry to an ever increasing love of God and his unconditional love that he has for us in return,Thankfulness toward family and friends.( To our past ancestors who fought to uphold freedom that far too many of us take for granted ?One needs a pure heart that's fixed on truth,This is in order to withstand the true great test of time !Life is way too short,Press toward the goal or mark of our high calling that is in Christ Jesus The Lord !~My contempoarry artists include that of ellan Bryant Voight, Kay Ryan and carl Phillips.Which all three are Participants in the Academy Of American Poetry.* Having been a member since 2006,My work reflects the likes of past poets such as C.S.Lewis, Hawthorne and edgar Allen Poe.Most of my work reflects with the values of religious beliefs intact,( In my personal view it is essential in demonstrating a real heart of creativepassion !The reader I believe will benefit by my artistic style of development in a verypositive light.)To further the need for poetry to become more main stream, Mario Vitale was born in Bristol , Ct Has developed a skill for writing poetry in the free verse form. has been featured on Hubpages.com, Starlitecafe.com & Poetry soup. Vitale lives with his elderly mother Ann Soulier in Wolcott, Ct. Currently has written well over 1,000 poems & 2 short story's toward credit platform. Vitale has taken the poetic world by storm being featured on Google, Yahoo & MSN. Looks up to contemporaries in the poetry industry such as John Ashbery & Major Jackson. Has been a favorite featured poet reader at Barnes & Noble in Waterbury, Ct. Also featured on such sites as Poetry soup, Writer's café & Neo Poet. Mario William Vitale 1 Winfield Drive Wolcott, ct 06716 A Beacon Of Light Written by: Mario Vitale A beacon of light to a much hurting world in need ! Can't help but to claim.., Some sense of identity, Stregnth and encouragement only come from above ! Amidst in the distance, the trapped seagull.., Lieth frightened but still yet adrift ! In a most vengeful fashion striking the passing fish, A true source of hope, Yet a most triumphal beam ! This beacon of light shineth forth, Passerby's can err' escape the helping hand.., To the most sparkling of radiance ! (2)Thanksgiving Dinner by Mario Vitale Home for the holiday from New Orleans, with Mother and Father at the tiny drop leaf, brown rosewood, mahogany table with the gold, grinning claw feet; Father, choler- red-in the-face, short- sleeved white shirt and cane, says the blessing as Mother brings in the turkey and cranberry. Then Mother asks, “Won’t you have more?” and father : “Do you think Moll Flanders was a *****?” (I have suffered and bleached my hair blond.) I am silent before their replies. Mother sighs. “I can scarce speak to her.” And Father, too, quotes Shakespeare. (I am thin as paper and the rose- colored bowl of blown glass sitting on the silver stand, half- filled with water.) “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless daughter” (3) Song of Spring Today I heard a robin sing heralding the coming spring A song of exultation to the sky an ode to earth's awakening I saw a willow on the hill It's branches greening in the sun and all the earth seemed hushed & still sleeping streams began to run I heard a softly rising breeze whispering through the grass singing through the still bare trees waiting winter's chill to pass I saw the sun, so bright and warm warming the earth after the rain the buds and leaves, no frost to harm at least, at last, it's spring again. (4) The Ancients It's my last day with the old giants In mourning I hike the lost trails, sniffing the aroma of the bark, that cinnamon of the forest Under tepees of wood in a membrane of shadows, I stalk the earth, its mammal traces, its elusive tracks, to sit on a fallen log where spiders macramé, moss sloping to my knees unaware of invisibles within, grubbing in their tunnels A lizard taps my foot, responding, I muse to its touch, my thoughts like Indian visions, And when daylight mushrooms into night, and an owl hoots from cedar, I still sit with a lizard on my shoe Huddled with the ancients of the woods (5) Epiphany Written by: Mario Vitale It clings to the cliffed shore, to the wintered face of the thistle path, to the fingers of the old man's glove as he waves his memory homeward In that breath between come and go she moves up from the bay; gold turns her stride, the line of her dress, the soft sea pulling at her feet When he reaches out and the frail birds fly and the sun and the sky have married deep into the sea, it clings Even as his shadow threads retreat, it clings, even now as it dissolves to mist (6) A Return Home, Only Time Will Tell Written by: Mario Vitale Oh blessed hope ! Both hardly a believable dream, Sweltering heat with bloodshed in the street... Send the troops home ! There is no clear reason for them to roam.., These are desolate times ! For we have chosen ill faded rhymes.., The casualties are enormous ? For a stated cause that clearly atrocious.., A mother's cry as the door chime rings, A vanishing salute to freedom as the church choir sings ! Let us look above to all the heavenly love.., Merciful one, take this chip off my shoulder.., Stop the senseless fighting before our dear nation grows a bit colder, Suddenly, seeds were dropped out of a farmers bag, In time roots spring up fresh out of the fertile soil... As the sun heats up, Time will tell when this harvest will soon boil... In the vast game of life, One's time is so very brief ! The soul yearns for its' heavenly relief.., Share with others who may want to turn over a brand new leaf.., Time will tell of the true importance of helping one another, To never give into the finish line.., Nor harsh criticism that our society puts out ! Like a famous fighter in his final bout ! Time will tell of the return home, To the open arms of a loved one ! (7) A Valiant Knight Written by: Mario Vitale A Valiant Knight Death springs a new day basking in the breeze In solemn moments lets pause to think of a place A far off castle in the mountains away from it all A valiant knight lived in the structure of it's dwelling Those days of old where mere men had a noble demise A beautiful maiden was in waiting for her knight He would often fight for the cause of stregnth and dignity The draw bridge where the castle stood had a very unique aura A mystery of sort sought up in the vast array of crowned nobility For the king on his thrown was humble yet greedy Always would take care of himself caring nothing for the needy A valiant knight was concerned about the kings trust Often they would disagree on who it was to serve A joker came in front of the king one day with a magic wand Waving the wand in the air then there floated ivy everywhere For the court jester was a fool in the making of his legacy The maiden would often come forth and see For she treasured a red rose that was plucked sometime before Cherished the calling of her stature to the glory of the throne A valiant knight would often sing sweet songs in the night Had a following of village people that would sit before his feet Having a way of words that he would often share The castle was filled with dragons and warlocks searching for love A cause to be brave amidst uncertainty of the kingdom The legacy of golden capulets filled ardent vestibules Let us toast to the valiant knight who keeps a watch on all that is good (8) Hampton Beach The smell of fresh fry doe Time had elapsed playing at the casino Fresh lobster with a side order of fries Those spacious wonderful sky's Down at the shell the continental were playing A walk by the lady of a statue in waiting Flip flops and the sound of laughter A playground for kids in the middle The boardwalk with seagulls flocking over head Fire works in the midnight air with a cheer (9) God's World It is raining again. Summer will be over before it ever gets here Thunder rolls far away, drops hit the windshield, the sky turns gray The Sunflower, the blue Delpinium, the white Stinkwood drink the moisture greedily. The green and silver leaves of the Aspens sparkle as the rain hits them, and the wind turns them round and round The creek flows on, oblivious to the change in the weather. A break in the clouds allows a bit of sun to hit the side of a towering mountain Three cows slowly wend their way homeward. It is dusk. The gray clouds lift and the sun bursts through, before sliding behind the hills for the night It is God's World. He gives it to us to enjoy and to share with each other (10) Jake's House There was a man whose name was Jake Who had a house upon the lake Every morning he would wake And for breakfast have a piece of cake He had a private fishing hole; He always used a long cane pole He fried his fish on red hot coal And served it in a great big bowl For a pet, he had a cat (11) In The Zone Written by: Mario Vitale In The Zone whispers... through the dark deranged portals you evoke fear filled with angelic fervor on it's textual base yet we dig much deep then ever before cries in the dark will light the spark of what we need to know still we stand idle as the average novice introduces its spell along again then the sadness evokes a newer feeling dwindling through the vain extraction of the never world we visually see a flash then a new day approaches on the lawn two lovers having passionate *** the screams of vile extreme explodes throughout perhaps this is the place where Nero tread yet again I sit alone in my house now huddled in the corner the twilight sun has tainted my inner vision the howls of Satanic laughter gives a piercing shriek through a candle was lit by the edge of my bed One can remain lax in the quietness of the moment yet again the setting of the sun a new day has begun as we embark on the moment Does death hurt you the most or is it fear You can equate logic through a firm grasp of the hand whispers again... then a faint cry, we construct living pyramids to honor the dead A stroke of luck an the impulse ensues onto so much more but for what are we grasping for straws what are we searching for ? quietness again this time I'm in the zone as if zombie creatures with viscous long fangs that bite dripping blood off side we run away to hide no one questions anymore no one has a voice alone one last time yet feelings of grandeur awake to the message of hope that spills from the sky a challenge to be free is a question of time eyes with spots digging holes in a pool of blood Satan laughing again spreads his wings Suddenly I awake but to what ? (12) An End Of The Age Of Innocence Part III Written by: Mario Vitale In our fast paced twentieth century world.., We oft' have neglected to stop to smell the roses, Oft' we used to bow our heads silently to pray, As we reflect back to the sixties is had launched a pad to rebellion ! With a vast amount of liberal bias and thinking, No wonder why our nation is sinking.., Sinking amidst a cuss pool of mere morality.., For now it is a quite different time, A very unique but different type of day.., An end of the age of innocence, One hath been enlightened.., From seeking truth, Some fresh out of a garbage can.., Yet for Gods' sake, He hath such an amazing plan ! Hence, to shun the broad road, Yet to seek to venture in the narrow.., Such as a distant bird in flight ! You might see this creature venture out at night ? Of the Eagle nor the Sparrow.., It used to mean something to have a sense of common courteous.., To hold open the door for your neighbor ? Yet for the time being we relent and waiver.., Would you prefer another taste of a certain ice cream flavor ? To ponder we must be content with who we are in the inside.., Nor, a mere fancy suit or blazing sport's car, Life is a roller coaster.., In what you do while busy making other plans.., Finding solace among the height of nature., Such to think at what is quite simple, As a young child reflects on his or her poster board, Playing with their magic crayons.., For in eternity it is such a very long time ! Take heed in what you do, Now is the expectant hour ! What will one choose to do ? There can be no place nor need for any compromise, Within it's vast perpetual spectrum ! One just can't put a price tag on a genuine but unique heart ! Hence, with honest integrity.., The time for change is today ! (13) He Was There by Mario William Vitale From the inner silence of the lamb he was there In welcoming to the world to share Within the multiple of words the mouth speaks As a heart beats through the passage of time To every poem that was ever written To every burden ever lifted To rivers crossing where people living Sometimes loving other moments giving In storms that were outside brewing What is the significance of this love In painted pictures from above To every soldier in a battle To every cow amidst the cattle Not a second glance at any real romance A field of dreams throughout our head From both fire and ice will make you think twice Perhaps another chance at a roll of the dice When every kingdom comes thy will be done Shadows in the shining morn if there's a rose it bears a thorn, He was there in every circumstance When they tried to throw stones at her He was there drawing a line with his finger in the sand It is my hope that some day all will understand A glance at the past will tell us of our future Amidst the inner pain & uncertainty Through shadows in a field of dreams In moments of solace amidst the pain A light moved out upon the street outside A day that wasn't meant to be Thorn crown was pulled upon his head Those shouts of intense anger from the mob There was only one who would help him back on his feet, A light that brought only a few to greet Let us not run away & hide Each one of our sins was placed on that cross To lose the battle now would end in tragic loss Father please forgive them for they know not what they do He said the prayer now the rest is up to you That cross that broke a sinful world apart With his blood-soaked crown with spear in side To show the whole world he had nothing to hide The summoned cry brought about healing in the sky Watch the free angelic dove fly! (14) Momma Of Pearls by Mario William Vitale Since there's nothing I could find That was worth giving you, I sat down to think a while And write a line or two If I had a magic wand I'd wave it just for you, And give you anything you'd like No matter how many or few If I could give you back the years You so willingly gave to me I'm sure that you spend them over again The same as they used to be Remember when those days and nights Instead of going to the fair I'd always say tell me again The story of the three little bears I tried to get a strawberry pie But they were out of season Then I thought of gold Mario William Vitale Written by Mario William Vitale 48/M/Wolcott, Ct 310 Please log in to view and add comments on poems

[deathsconsort]

“ you’re my friend, but… sometimes i wish you were more than that." 😈

the two stand alone in the palace, the sky outside is adorned with pinks, blues, and purples. the light from the setting sun beams through the glass stained windows and cascades upon gwyn. this is what angels look like, nesta thinks as she takes note of how the light sets the other female aglow. it was this moment she understood her sister’s need to paint, though she was sure no artist no matter how talented could capture this scene in its entirety. she would have been content to stand here and marvel at gwyn, but what came out of her mouth made nesta’s eyes go wide and her brain short circuits momentarily. gwyn’s words had changed the trajectory of their relationship for better or worse. “i–” for the first time in a long time, nesta is at a loss for words. she’s quiet as she searches her scattered mind and looks to her shattered heart for how to convey her feelings.

ever since ending things with cassian, she was content being alone. she had accepted that there was no one out there who could love her, who would choose her if her own mate hadn’t. so she never thought about the prospect of being in another relationship or starting a family of her own. her romance books were good enough for her, at least that’s what she told herself. but would they truly be enough? growing up she was taught she wouldn’t marry for love anyway, but now that she had a little taste of it she did crave it deep inside. did she even deserve happiness such as love?

her heart has been closed off for some time now, never daring herself to open it back up and look into it. she hadn’t been brave enough to see what was inside or if anything was left of it. looking to it now though…her hand fiddles with the neckline of her gown, suddenly she felt too hot, too vulnerable. releasing the iron bars she had slammed down on her heart and looking to gwyn now has her realizing she may have feelings she didn’t realize she was even developing. there aren’t many things nesta archeron is scared of, but this terrified her. “why? why would you even want someone as big as a mess as i am? you deserve someone better than me.”

[silverflamcs]

@keqinge

     nesta had spent two hours locked in her room trying to make the harp open a portal back up for keqing to return back to her own world. it started off with her being civil, but it didn’t take long for the mind games and riddles to set her temper aflame. it felt foolish to be standing in the middle of her bedroom yelling at a harp, plucking it’s string trying to open the portal. after nesta asked what the reasoning was for keeping keqing here, the harp’s only response had been that it wanted to play. that, along with hearing the harp’s hypnotic lilting voice for so long was enough to make her give up for the day. she locked it back up and headed toward the room where she left keqing upon her arrival.

     the harp’s words kept ringing in her head, i want to play, i want to play. it made sense for the harp to want to play around with her, but keqing? an innocent girl from another universe, why would it want to mess with her. guilt bit at her because she knew this was her fault, it was because of her this woman was thrown into a place unfamiliar to her. dealing with any object of the dread trove was risky, but dealing with time and other universes is even riskier. nesta knew this and yet she couldn’t starve her curiosity. she felt bad enough where she considered going to feyre and having keqing stay with her. after all it’s feyre who always seems to save the day while nesta has been a failure at everything. there was too much pain and heartbreak to return to the night court though, even for a brief time, even if it’s just to see her sister. the possibility of running into the others was far too great for her to go.

     she gave three quick knocks on the door before entering. the frustration was clear on her face, it seemed like one bad thing after the other kept happening to her. even worse, it seemed like those around her were always affected. everyone would have been better off if they had left her be in that apartment in velaris where she shut herself out from the world.

     “i’m sorry keqing, but you’re not going home.” her words came out blunt and harsh, even to her own ears, because of that she added gently. “not today at least.” she rubbed at the spot where a headache was beginning to form, talking to the harp that long really did a number on her. “the dusk court welcomes you though, you’re free to walk around as you wish and visit any shops or restaurants. whatever you buy you can put on my tab. this room is yours while you’re here. i don’t have servants, but this palace is enchanted, whatever you want it will give you since you’re my guest. all you have to do is ask it.” her face softened as she looked down toward the woman. “i’m really sorry this happened to you. i’m going to do everything i can to get you back home. for now though, is there anything i can do for you? or do you have any questions? i’m sure this world is strange for you.”

[pinkletterday]

In which Hussie says to hell with it and talks about all her slash WiPs even though she has no idea when they will be posted.

I love Olivarry and Coldflash. But my problem with reading those fics are that I miss Iris like a limb if she's not also part of Barry.

I felt the same way before I ever shipped Westallen, and I didn't even ship them for the longest time. Nor was I particularly interested in Iris as a character until sometime mid-way S3.

(It was when she burst into frightened tears in 3x9. Something in me immediately went PROTECC and it hasn't turned off since.)

I think it was more the sheer intensity of Barry's love for her that fascinated me. Not that a man fixating on a woman and obsessively pinning all his happiness on her is new or healthy phenomenon, but it was also deeper than that, character-wise. His love for her is so tied up in his self-definition, and the myriad ways their childhood bond helped mould their adult selves.

(And the fact that no matter how this love can change in nature, he will never be immune to appreciating her beauty and sexuality as a woman, which is so important to me as a slash fan and WoC. Seeing women be desexualized unless they're active romantic interests makes me want to scream. You can find people attractive af without wanting to bang them! It doesnt make you any less close! Not all close m/f relationships have to be sibling-like! Aargh!)

Regardless of how it came about, I need Iris to have that importance in Barry's life no matter who (else?) he's in love with. Which is why I started writing slash myself. It's a relief to me to know that she's there in every story I write, like a personal touchstone if nothing else. There you are my darling, you aren't forgotten.

Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam AU - Barry's love for Iris and the pain of her rejection is the springboard of the series. His struggle to reconcile with her over the years drives his character trajectory as much his love for Len and Oliver does. And there is so much she sees and evolves and goes through herself that the stupid boy cannot see until the very end, caught up in his own pain as he is.

The Assistant Verse - Barry and Iris are queerplatonic partners in a poly sexual relationship. Iris is the one who dolls up her boy in lipstick and booty shorts and sends him into Len's path in Paint It Red. Many years later, in Every Kind of Love, she descends wrathfully on Oliver from half a world away for doing her darling wrong, bringing her own broken heart for Barry to nurse.

This is one of the most wholesome Westallen relationships I have ever written, even though I'm pretty sure it will generate the least interest.

For The Good of the Realm - in the first draft Iris was Barry's first love and heartbreak pulled apart by politics, but in the second revision they're again queerplatonic partners and childhood best friends who call each other "soulmates". They had hoped to be married to each other and be kept safe from political matches. But then Barry becomes betrothed to High King Oliver and must be sent to Starling Court as the reluctant new Prince Consort, while Iris sets out on her mission to emancipate the tribes of the Middle Kingdom. They gift each other two halves of a magical "heartstone", a conduit of emotional resonance that connects two people across leagues of distance. In the fear, alienation and intrigue of the Starling Court, its Iris's love and safety that Barry holds onto, even while he falls in love with his husband.

Call Me By Your Name - Barry and Iris go to Greece in the summer before college, each hoping it will lead to a resolution to the magnetic push and pull they've been feeling for years. But when Barry meets and falls in love with Oliver and realizes he's gay, he is devastated at both breaking Iris's heart and not being in love with her. Because he really wants to be; she's always been his home and the future he's envisioned - to lose that terrifies him. It's a story about Barry and Oliver's sexual and romantic awakening, but also about how Barry and Iris manage to break down their own expectations of what it means to love one another forever and build something much truer and real.

A Stitch in Time is solidly Queenwestallen now. I was going to have Iris evolve into an undefined queerplatonic partner for Barry and Oliver but that ship is long gone.

For Love Or Money - Barry and Iris were childhood sweethearts and married young, Barry's tech startup and her career both took off. By their mid-twenties they should be the couple that has it all.

Except for Iris finally realizing she's ace and sex-repulsed. This is a terrible shock to both of them and not a small blow to Barry's self-esteem because she's the only woman he's ever been with. But they decide they're too in love to divorce and Iris tentatively suggests that Barry takes the opportunity to explore his interest in men, leading him to engage Oliver's services as an escort. Iris has to discover for herself what it means to be an asexual woman but Barry falling in love with Oliver is an issue they both have to deal with as a couple. Meanwhile Oliver has to reconcile the fact that not only is he falling for a client but one who is very much in love with his wife.

Mercury Rising - my Earth-13 Coldflash mob boss AU and oh is Iris ever there! This is my most delicious iteration of her - not as Barry's support but as his combatant, his antagonist and the eternal thorn in his side. Her unwitting role in Barry's betrayal that drives him to criminality, her bull-headed faith in the goodness of his character even in the face of his escalating violence, calling him to account every step of the way till he does the one thing she cannot forgive. The resulting single-minded determination to take her former best friend down without compromising her own moral code even as the undeniable magnetism between the two of them wreak havoc with their lives, and final realization that even after everything she can never give up on Barry Allen. Hate is truly just love with its back turned and what makes them tear each other to pieces even as it brings out their noblest and most human instincts.

Queen of Starling - On Earth 42, Beatrice Allen is adopted by Harrison Wells when her parents are murdered and taken away to Starling City - but even distance can't make her less in love with the best friend she left behind.

Here's the kicker of this story - Iris dies. Her death bisects Beatrice's story in two - the halycon days of her girlhood and the shattered trauma of the next fifteen years where she has to collect the pieces of herself out of her lover's grave to rebuild herself into the mother her children need, the superhero the world needs and to let herself love again.

The Awakening - Curse specialist Iris West and alchemist/ lore master Barry Allen are part of the Men of Letters team that go into a old cursed and haunted mansion to retrieve the Book Of The Dead, last known to have been in the hands of disgraced former Man of Letters and necromancer Eobard Thawne. The team is led by their chapter's chairman Harrison Wells, but the expedition is funded by eccentric millionaire and hunter Oliver Queen.

The blue-collar hunters and elitist Men of Letters don't trust Oliver, being seen as a mere hobbyist or thrill-seeker in the absence of any real tragedy or family legacy to put him on his path. But Iris distrusts him because she's the only one who can see his clear attraction to her best friend and childhood sweetheart Barry. Iris has spent her life as Barry's protector, himself being something of a pariah in the community due to his rumoured supernatural parentage and open empathy for the spirits and monsters they hunt. It's Iris that sees the way the house draws in both Barry and Oliver and the patterns of the hauntings that occur around them, she's the one who is as terrified for Barry's safety as Oliver as the house sucks them deeper into the tragedy of its past and she's the one that finally deduces how the malevolence of the house works and what it wants.

From Dusk Till Dawn - I think this is the story that has Iris in it the least. Eobard kidnaps Barry at age fifteen and subjects him to an experiment that backfires badly, leaving him dead and Barry with only a fraction of powers he was destined to have and no connection to the Speed Force. ARGUS immediately finds him and forces him to manufacture a rift with the Wests so they can claim him without suspicion, mould him into one of their operatives and train him to hunt the other metahumans Eobard created.

This is an Olivarry story where Barry rediscovers hope and love through his secret protection of Oliver. But its the memory of Iris's love and the happiness of their childhood that keeps him tethered to his humanity through the next eight years, it is her that he goes to the night before what he believes will be his final sacrifice ("You have always been the best part of me. Keep that part of me inside your heart and I can never die. Keep me and don't let me go, Iris"), it is her, after everything, that leads him home, and it is her that seeks out Oliver and asks him to help Barry heal.

This is not including my Coldwestallen fics The Scarlet Rose (Snow Queen/ Beauty and the Beast fusion) and The Adventures of Snart The Cat (Bastet turns Len into a cat and charges him with protecting Barry and Iris's unborn child).

So yes, I absolutely started writing slash because I missed Iris West. It's not just her though. None of the ladies are relegated to ship support. In the Polyam AU Lisa Snart specifically rips into Barry for ignoring her emotional needs as a friend while on the outs with Len, Oliver's fixation with Barry in Stitch in Time and resulting neglect of his friendship with Laurel has serious repercussions, Caitlin couldn't give less of a damn about Barry's romantic exploits in her incarnations as Killer Frost. Even in For The Good of the Realm where he's her foster brother and charge, Caitlin is more wrapped up in manoeuvring him away from court intrigue, legitimizing her own presence at his side and being a ball of identity issues. And I absolutely love my dark!Felicity AUs where she is outright antagonistic and disapproving of Barry's love interests and sometimes of Barry himself. In the Olivarry stories where she is supportive and sympathetic, Felicity and Oliver themselves still acknowledge their own romantic potential. Which means Barry and Oliver falling in love creates tension between the three of them, and the men have to learn how not to hurt her or take her support for granted while they figure themselves out.

The relationships between men and women in every flavour and intensity makes stories so much richer and deeper and three dimensional. I am done being conditioned as a woman to erase ourselves when we inhabit the bodies and stories of m|m men.

[deathsconsort]

❀ for a forehead kiss [for nesta bc she deserves one]

it wasn’t unusual for nesta to ask either gwyn or emerie, sometimes both, to spend the evening in her bedroom. having their company eased any anxiety that ate away at her, as well as the nightmares that sometimes plagued her once she closed her eyes. at times, nesta felt as if she was taking strides backwards instead of forwards ever since ruling over the dusk court. being separated from cassian carved out a piece of her soul and had her back to second guessing whether she was worth loving. it was a never ending battle between her and her self loathing thoughts. although her mate’s decision to remain in the night court scarred her emotionally, she remembered to remind herself of the positive things; of the friends who never left her side, of the valkyrie unit they were creating, and their help with restoring the dusk court to its glory. there was still light in her life, she wouldn’t let herself forget that.

nesta laid in bed with her head in gwyn’s lap. letting her scent of petrichor and sandalwood fill her lungs and soothe her as she reads her book. though, she stopped paying attention to the book some time ago. lost deep in her thoughts, she’s been staring blankly at the page. the threat of failure hung over her; she couldn’t even make things work between her and her mate, how is she able to run a whole court and a valkyrie unit successfully? nesta was beginning to drown in her self doubt when she suddenly felt the press of lips soft as rose petals against her forehead. there was such tenderness in the gesture that it caught her off guard. her eyes fluttered, coming back to the present and gazed up at gwyn. “what was that for?”

[deathsconsort]

“  you’re my family.  ” 😤😤

the two of them sat on a grassy hillside facing the sea while their pegasuses grazed happily. nesta had been staring, as if she could see past the sea and to the night court, to the male who had chosen to stay behind. maybe she truly was unlovable. maybe she was too much for anyone to handle. her own mate didn’t find her worthy enough to leave his friends and come with her to rule a new court, how could she even expect anyone to love her. it didn’t matter, she supposed, for she had no plans on getting into a romantic relationship again. not if it only led to heartbreak. her dreadful thoughts were eating away at her, most days it was hard to escape them so she allowed them to consume her, it was easier than running from them. she saw a wave crash into one of the rocks along the shore and scoffed softly. i am the rock against which the surf crashes. nothing can break me. nesta had believed that not long ago, but now…now she felt like the wild, untamed sea. ruining everything she touches.

"you’re my family." nesta finally stopped her relentless staring to look at gwyn. a small, soft smile graced her face. maybe gwyn had sensed her thoughts, sensed the battle she was having within herself. whatever the reason for her statement, nesta was grateful for it. these days it was her friends sisters who kept her going, kept her sane. they were her tether to this world. she laid her head on the other female’s shoulder, closed her eyes, and took a deep steadying breath. allowing the salty sea air and gwyn to ground her. “you’re mine as well. you’re the sister i always needed. i can’t imagine my life without you.” nesta took another deep breath and opened her eyes, feeling and looking more clearer. “i don’t think i would have made it through the hard times if it weren’t for you. both you and emerie saved me.” she quickly lifted her head from gwyn’s shoulder, “that reminds me.”

her hand reached into her pocket, “i found something earlier this morning when i was strolling along the shops. the second i saw them i knew i had to get them.” she held out her hand to gwyn, in her palm laid three silver pegasus charms. “i think some new bracelets are in order.”