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bookwonder · 23 days ago

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The Interlude

Chapter 2: Perranth

Not once since the end of the war did Elide feel like she was dealt a bad hand. Life was not going to be pleasant or kind a majority of the time. Rebuilding, establishing order, and cementing herself among her people were all situations she expected to be difficult. Elide had prepared to be challenged and looked down upon, but she embraced the adversity. She had been ready for it.

When her father turned out to be alive, well, she could do nothing but thank the gods that she had one living family member. One of the few orphans from Terrasen to have been spared the brutality of being alone.

The decision to have her father retake the mantle as Lord of Perranth had not been a difficult choice. If anything it gave Elide a sense of relief. It gave her time to learn to read and time to heal her ankle, one final blessing from Anneith herself.

But right now, she could not stop the resentment from bubbling in her chest. A tearful sigh escaped her lips as she ran her fingers across Terros’s leathery snout. He nudged her arm in question, worry in his slitted eyes.

“I’ll be okay.” She mumbled, shifting her weight on the damp hay.

The rain in Orynth had been endless since she and her father had arrived. Not even in Perranth the skies did not weeped as they did here. She missed home.

Seeing everyone, never ceased to bring her joy. It had been weeks since she last saw her friends. With Aelin being Queen, Aedion and Lysandra ruling from Caraverre, and Manon and Yrene in Adarlan, meeting for tea took strenuous planning. She should be happy she was here, Fenrys would soon arrive with that demi-Fae male in tow, and soon everyone would be together again. She didn’t particularly care to know the new addition to their court. Didn’t want to bother with someone that Fenry’s had described as eternally miserable. She had already endured enough misery to last a lifetime.

Elide only made one singular request of her father before departing to Orynth: no talks of potential suitors.

A simple request. One she thought her father could surely keep, he’d swore to her as much.

A fools wish.

Not one hour ago had Cal Lochan broached the subject, and a fierce and gruesome argument had ensued. Her father had said to her, “Just meet with one of them, Elide. One. You don’t have to agree to anything. Just meet with one, so the lords quit their nagging.” As if it were that easy.

Needless to say that conversation did not end well and Elide ended up walking out in tears, leaving her father raging behind her.

She didn’t think he’d ever yelled at her the way he did today. Not even as a child when she threw tantrums did he yell at her as such. Cal had always been understanding and willing to compromise. It didn’t look like that was going to happen this go around.

Elide choked back a sob as her father’s words ran through her.

Using her sleeve, she wiped the tears from her face and wished her mother was with her. Terros nudged her again.

“Elide?”

She turned at the sound. Aelin stood at the entrance to the stable house. A green cloak engulfing her.

“Majesty.” Elide said, bowing her head.

Rolling her eyes, Aelin crossed the space between them. “How many times must I tell you to not call me that?”

Stifling a chuckle, Elide gave a half-hearted shrug. Aelin took the spot next to her, wearily keeping her eye on Terros. The wyvern, however, paid her no attention and instead was content to doze off at Elide’s feet, his snout making sure to touch her foot. A habit he had developed as a wyvling.

Though Terros did not take kindly to others—with the exception of Nox—he was fairly tolerant of people should she be present. That didn’t stop the others from being cautious around him, which was probably for the best. After Terros almost bit off Fenrys’s hand for hitting her in the face with a snowball last Yulemas… well. She was not opposed if people kept their distance. Not that Elide blamed Terros for the incident. He did nothing wrong and never would. Fenrys should have known better after all.

Slim fingers twined themselves with hers, the warmth of Aelin’s hand bringing comfort. “How bad was it?” Aelin asked.

“I’m sure he already briefed you on it.” Elide responded, a tear rolling down her rosy cheeks. She quickly wiped it away.

Aelin remained silent, and though she still had her hood obscuring her face, Elide felt the countless thoughts racing through the Queen’s head and wondered which she would say aloud.

“I would never agree to something that would make you unhappy, you understand that, right?” Aelin finally said, her hand squeezing Elide’s in solidarity.

Elide’s dark hair shifted as she nodded in agreement. “He mentioned Roland Havilliard.” Elide said clearing her throat as silver filled her eyes once more.

Aelin tensed at that, flame dancing in her Ashryver eyes. “Dorian, as far as I am concerned has only asked you meet with Roland to provide guidance. It seems he was inspired with what you are doing in Perranth and would like to do the same in Rifthold.” Aelin rebutted, her thumb caressing Elide’s palm. “Not for a potential marriage.”

Her chest rose and fell silently, the fluttering in her chest diminishing at Aelin’s words only slightly. “That’s not what—“

“Whatever the lords of Terrasen think they are doing, they will not get far without my approval.”

The voice of the Queen of Terrasen rang final and true, the temperature around them rising with the heat in her words. Elide’s throat bobbed as Terros huffed in agreement with her friend and queen.

Aelin stretched her legs, a grunt escaping her. Her lips fell as if she were about to speak but remained silent. Minutes ticked by, the tears in Elide’s eyes were no longer, the rain now a faint drizzle among the heavy fog. She knew Aelin meant it. The Queen of Terrasen would fight with the lords before selling Elide into a marriage of convenience, and there were no words to express the gratitude she felt that Aelin would fight tooth and nail for her.

When Aelin finally spoke again, Terros was snoring at her feet a faint grin on Elide’s face. “You know, Dorian tells me that Roland is not what he was once. He’s changed a bit.”

“Has he?”

Aelin’s thumb stopped stroking Elide’s palm, her brows furrowed and worry illuminated her. “He could use a friend, I think. When you both meet, don’t be afraid to make a new friend…” she trailed off unsure, shaking her head. “He too was enslaved to Morath. Aside from what you think the lords are trying to do, Roland’s interest in building the school in Rifthold is his priority.”

At that, Elide nodded in agreement. Whatever her father suggests she considers should she agree to meet with Roland, she would not entertain. She would do it for the children it would benefit. “I agree, but my father—.”

Mischief twinkled in Aelin’s eyes. “I’ll handle Cal Lochan. I think your needed back in Perranth though. I need you to check on the school instead of being here with your father.”

“But we’re supposed to be here for another two weeks.”

Winking, Aelin stood. “Guess that gives you time away from your father, now doesn’t it?”

A smile bloomed on Elide's face as she stood quickly to wake her mount.

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When Fenrys had led Lorcan past the gates, into the castle and into the throne room, Lorcan knew there was no going back and his life would never be the same. He felt the studious gazes of those in the fire-breathers court with each step he took towards her throne. People he didn’t know, with the exception of Rowan, Gavriel, and the pup a few feet in front of him. Lorcan didn’t care to get to know them, and he doubted they wanted anything different.

Rowan stood clad in green to Aelin’s side, a gold crown atop his silver hair. He seemed to Lorcan about as comfortable as he expected Whitethorn to be with the formalities of royalty. As Rowan made eye contact with Lorcan himself, a warmth he had not expected filled those pine green eyes. Lorcan could only glower in response.

A weakness to display such warmth for all to see. It was not as if they were close enough friends to procure such a response.

Fenrys came to a complete standstill a foot from the steps leading to Aelin. A smirk occupied her angular face as she took both of them in. Fenrys, ever the loyal puppet, bowed before her deeply. Lorcan had remained upright, knowing that he should bow out of respect, but he was tired. The weight of the last few weeks lingered heavily above him, and he didn’t even wish to be here in the first place. So he remained standing, hoping the slight of disrespect would grant him death. A glimmer of acknowledgment in the Queen’s face at his choice, her finger lightly tapping on the wood of her chair.

“Fenrys,” she cooed, leaning forward. “You both reek.”

A chuckle escaped a woman standing to the right of Aelin. Next to a familiar looking male with blonde hair. Rowan, bless him, appeared to count to five before interjecting. “Perhaps, you both should rest before we get to discussing your role here Lorcan.”

Standing gracefully, Aelin made her way to Rowan and took his hand in hers. “I couldn’t agree more.”

And that had been that. Lorcan had been escorted to his room, which was grander than he deserved. Large windows occupied the walls, granting him a full view of Orynth and the Staghorn Mountains. A large four poster bed occupied the center of it, with tables and chairs made of the richest wood. He had scowled at the mere sight of it. He knew he would not stay here long. The smell of the room alone, did not bring him comfort. It was not his space. It was not his bed. It was not anything.

Throwing his bags on the wooded floor, Lorcan wished he still had mirthroot to smoke and a nameless woman to fuck.

Lorcan glared out the massive window, wishing he could punch Fenrys. Apparently, her royal heinous Aelin Galathynius requested Lorcan at nine that morning. His bones still ached from the travel. It’d been a whole day since their arrival to Orynth, and after he had washed, he met sleep with a tight embrace.

He was unaware of the last time he had slept without nightmares haunting him. Perhaps it was the exhaustion that granted him that mercy.

Fenrys, draped himself over the large couch, his white shirt halfway buttoned, a faint smile lingering on his lips. He had his eyes closed, clearly he too was still tired. Lorcan wondered if he would dare to doze off as they waited.

Up until they made it to the Queen’s personal library, Fenrys had not once shut up. Constant jokes, laughter and information that Lorcan did not care to know of. He hoped Fenrys’s new found silence would last. Lorcan didn’t care about Terrasen or it’s people, but simply wished to finish whatever it was he was going to be doing here and go back to Doranelle.

Terrasen be damned, along with it’s rain.

The doors to the library opened, quiet laughter following those entering. Aelin, with Rowan on her heels, waltzed in for all the world looking like a commoner. A white tunic and brown leather pants and boots, her blonde hair braided down her back, her pointed ears poking through her hair.

None of the glam from the day before encircled her.

Fenrys sat up, rubbing his eyelids as they approached. “Where are Cal and Elide? They’re both supposed to be here.”

Both Aelin and Rowan shared a look at that, before taking seat in two armchairs. Lorcan was aware he still lingered by the window, forcing his attention elsewhere, but he did not care. He didn’t want to be here.

“Elide was needed in Perranth,”Aelin answered cautiously. The frown on Fenrys’s already worried face deepened, a certain understanding dawning at her words. “Cal will be here in a moment.”

As if on cue, a tall broad shouldered man walked into the decent sized library. Dressed in an overcoat, the kind black eyes of the man landed on Lorcan. He vaguely felt the assessment in the man’s gaze, and was surprised with the nod of respect he shot at Lorcan. It was clear that Cal Lochan had grown up hearing stories about the legendary warrior standing before him.

The lord did not walk closer, but instead lingered by the now closed door waiting for Aelin and Rowan to begin.

“Lorcan,” Aelin begin as she picked up a leather-bound book off the table in front of her. “Thank you for traveling to see us.”

His steely eyes took in the gluttonous amount of books occupying the room. Much too many for his liking. “I didn’t have a choice, did I?” He shot back with barely contained fury.

The gold lining Aelin’s iris became a dancing flame. “That you didn’t.” She shot back amused. She paged through the book in her slim hands. “In truth, it was Rowan that requested your presence. I didn’t care to have another brooding male around me.”

Lorcan’s damning glare landed on Rowan at that, his eyebrows raised in question. “We need assistance with many things in Terrasen,” Rowan supplied, his hardened features softening as he turned to his mate. “And you didn’t seem too occupied in Doranelle. Did you read my letter?”

Again, that damn letter. Fenry’s let out a laugh. “He shredded it to pieces.”

Rowan took a deep breath, his green eyes calculating his next words. “A shame you did so. It would give you more context to why I requested you.”

Lorcan, Hellas help him, at last ran out of the minimal patience he carried and did not think twice before snapping his fingers. “Get on with it, Rowan. The quicker this goes, the quicker I can rid myself of this place and go back to Doranelle.

Cal lochan, the brave warrior, shot Lorcan a warning. Legendary warrior or no, Lorcan doubted Cal Lochan would mind this tongue should he continue to disrespect this lord’s Queen and her King consort. “They brought you here to help train those ripe with magic.” Cal’s hard voice responded, the lines on his face deepening. Lorcan calculated the man had to be at least in his mid-forties.

“And can’t you, Gavriel and Fenrys do so without my assistance?

Rowan clenched his jaw at Lorcan’s rebuttal, but it was Aelin who spoke with the authority of the power she possessed. “Considering we have yet to find Vaughn, and Connall is dead, no.” Fenry’s paled at the mention of his brother, but otherwise remained silent. “There are too many magic wielders and not near enough teachers. You were not making your time of use in Doranelle. Taking the taverns by storm every night seemed to have put off Queen Sellene.”

Crossing his arms, Lorcan rolled his eyes. He was tired of hearing about how he chose to live his life. Tired of being nagged and criticized for it. He had everything under control. So what if he carried out a few centuries of recklessness with him. It was nothing that Whitethorn hadn’t he himself had done before. “Name your terms.” He ground out. The faster this conversation ended, the faster his time here would end.

Rowan tilted his head to the side, considering. His gray shirt shifted as he took Aelin’s hand in his. “Two years. Two years of service, help train those with magic and soldiers alike. No getting lost in your cups, no mirthroot. Keep your mind clear, and you will be given access to your coin within a few months. Until then, you will be given a stipend. Just two years.”

“Aelin flashed him a smile, her canines on display. “You will begin in our second largest territory: Perranth.” She glanced towards Cal Lochan, a sort of annoyance sparkling in her eyes before it vanished. “Anything you would like to add, Cal?”

The Lord of Perranth ignored the mocking tone in Aelin’s voice as he stepped forward and monitored Lorcan. “My daughter,” He said adding enough emphasis on the word and daring a side-eye to Aelin, to suggest that the Lord was not happy with his heir or his Queen at the moment. “Was needed by her Majesty back in Perranth. She will be there when you arrive. My ward, Nox, will accompany you there and my daughter will provide guidance with where to begin until I arrive in two weeks time.”

“I thought I was taking him to Perranth.” Fenrys stated, outrage on his face. “Not Nox.”

Aelin’s nose scrunched, a full smile now on her face. “I need you elsewhere, Fenrys. You will have time to catch up with the Lady of Perranth in a few weeks.” Fenrys tipped his head back, looking at the vaulted ceiling in submission. Aelin again turned her attention to Lorcan, and felt his magic stir. “ You leave in two days, Salvaterre.”

He hated the Queen, Lorcan decided. He hated Rowan too and Fenrys and Cal Lochan and his daughter. He despised them all. Hated being in Terrasen.

After his meeting with the Lord of Perranth, the Queen, and Whitethorn, Lorcan holed himself in h is chamber and refused to leave. Refused to wander the grounds. Refused to meet with Nox as Fenrys had suggested he do. He refused to do anything but lay in his large bed and stare at the ceiling.

His dark magic brooded along with him. He felt the urgency it felt to release itself into the world. The longer his anger simmered, the more Death pleaded to destroy. Lorcan wished he could break something, itched for wine or liquor, but knew he couldn’t do so without extending his sentence in Terrasen.

Moonlight cast itself into his room, illuminating the grand and lonely space. He made a mental note to shut those curtains. The city of Orynth was not a sight he wanted a reminder of. He wished this place would burn because if it did, then he would be free to wander to wherever he chose and be free to live his life as stupidly and recklessly as he wanted to.

His ears picked up the sound of footsteps before he heard the knock on the door. Lorcan held his breath, maybe if he didn’t respond, the scent of pine and snow would disappear and leave him be.

If only he were so lucky.

Rowan’s silver head poked through the threshold, his eyes searching. Lorcan didn’t acknowledge him. “I thought I would find you here.”

Again, Lorcan refrained from responding. Perhaps Rowan would get the hint if he continued to ignore him.

Silence filled the room as Rowan took a seat near one of the windows. His sight on the city below. “Why did you shred my letter, Lorcan?”

His brows scrunched at the question. “Why wouldn’t I, Majesty.” Lorcan sneered. “You’ve never had anything interesting to say.”

“I owe you a debt, Lorcan.” Rowan started, ignoring Lorcan’s fighting words. “Without your help, without you giving us the ring and that warning…”

Lorcan sat up, his body aching. “Without that and I would not have been thrown in a cell and my mind tampered with. I would not be filled with dishonor and shame.”

Rowan lifted a silver brow in question. “Do you think that the world would have benefited had you not?”

“I’ve never cared whether anything benefited anyone but myself or her Dark Majesty.”

Rowan dipped his head to look at the floor, the scent of pity filled the air. Lorcan’s nostrils flared as he caught it’s whiff, he wanted to tell Rowan to shove his pity where no one could scent it. “I am sorry about what she did to you, Lorcan. For that I owe you more than you know.”

“I don’t wish for your pity or thanks.” He spat, a tendril of magic circling his large fingers, whispering for freedom.

“We wanted to save you,” Rowan continued, his green eyes still fixed to the wood flooring. “When we went for Aelin. When she found us on that beach… Maeve taunted us about you. About what disloyalty bought her cadre of warriors.” Pausing as if contemplating his next choice of words, Rowan finally looked over to him. “But you weren’t in Doranelle when we saved Aelin and we didn’t have time to spare looking.”

Lorcan felt the heaviness of the words leaving Rowan’s mouth. He felt the guilt that still haunted the King consort as he reminisced on those days with shame and Lorcan wanted to kill him. Rowan did nothing he himself would not have. Shame and guilt should not be haunting his former sentinel as they were now.

“With her death—“

“Enough.” Lorcan’s rough voice cut through the room. “Get out.”

“Lorcan—“ Rowan started, he stood in his finery and observed the male he had obeyed as his commander for centuries. “Give this a chance. Life is more than what Maeve offered us.”

Light shown in Rowan’s face as the words pierced into Lorcan’s tattered soul, and Lorcan could see it. The life that Rowan was now filled with. The opportunities that had presented themselves for him thanks to the heir of fire and he court. Friends and family that now were a constant in Rowan’s life. Rowan was proof that devastation and grief would not cripple and destroy a living being, but instead teach them to live.

Lorcan wanted none of it.

“Get out, Rowan. I will not repeat myself.”

A frustrated sigh escaped Rowan before walking to the door, leaving Lorcan alone just as he wished. Just as he would always remain.

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“We will to need to find a new hairstyle if you insist on being one with the wind, my Lady.” Finnula’s tone was disapproving. Her nursemaid held the brush inches from Elide’s dark hair, studying where to begin.

Elide made eye contact with Finnula in the mirror. “Any suggestions?” She teased, her dark eyes sparkling.

Finnula scoffed, brushing a dark knot out of Elide’s curls. “Joke all you like, but one day you will have tangled your beautiful hair so badly, cutting it all off will be your only solution.”

Biting back a laugh, Elide reached to touch Finnula’s old wrinkled hand in comfort. “I will attempt to find a better solution.”

Her words of comfort, along with her smile, made Finnula pause her brushing. “Happiness looks beautiful on you.”

Averting her gaze, Elide picked at the gold band on her finger. The ring having belonged to her mother brought her easiness when she wore it. Elide had been surprised to find it when she returned to Perranth. Shocked that the valg soldiers hadn’t sacked the castle in her or Vernon’s absence.

“Thank you, Finnula.” Elide whispered.

Again, her nursemaid stopped her brushing. Worry lined Finnula’s long lived features. Her gray eyes calculated whether to say the words she was thinking. Ultimately, her nursemaid decided to speak them true. “You and our father have not been seeing eye to eye as of late.”

“No we have not.” Elide agreed, taking the brush from Finnula and began detangling her long hair. Sometimes it hurt less when she did it compared to when her nursemaid did.

Finnula chewed on her bottom lip nervously. “He only wishes what’s best for you, you know that.”

A sharp glance in her direction had Finnula taking a step back. Elide had been preparing for this conversation since her return from Orynth. “Speak freely, Finnula.”

Nodding, Finnula addressed her with care and honesty. Whether Elide wanted to hear it or not, she respected her nursemaids opinion. Finnula had lived a life Elide had barely only begun to. Uncensored truth was an unspoken rule between them, especially since her return to Perranth and one she begrudgingly cherished from her nursemaid.

“How are you, Elide?”

Surprise coursed through Elide, her eyes narrowing. Definitely not what she expected Finnula to say. “My father and the lords of Terrasen are trying to marry me off, how do you think I am?”

Lips pursed, Finnula nodded sadly. “I don’t believe your father would do that to you, my lady.”

She felt her eyes roll into the back of her head at that. Elide reminded herself not to be rude. It was not Finnnula’s fault her father decided to betray her. That fault was his own. “That’s not what he said in Orynth.” Elide responded, her brush catching on another knot. Angrily, she passed the brush through it.

“And would a potential suitor be such a bad thing? Would finding love be so terrible?”

Elide set her brush down roughly. “I will not be tied to another, ever again. I have much to worry about without fretting about bedding a husband.” Her tone held finality in it, she could hear the crisp and ripe barely contained rage and attempted to calm down.

These few days away from her father had done little to ease her. Elide dreaded the day he returned, knowing speak of a suitor would resume. She hoped Aelin crushed her father’s pleas while he was still in Orynth. Hoped she would squash the thoughts running among the lords as well. Shame them into retracting their idea.

What she refrained from uttering to Finnula is that she’d heard much about love in the years since the fall of Terrasen. Had seen how little of it men possessed in Morath. The sneering, the laughing, and the mocking she had endured under those men… she would never forget it. Since then, trusting a man so wholly seemed improbable for her.

She read about the love that Finnula wished she’d find in books since learning to read, deeming it to be completely and utterly exaggerated in it’s intensity. Elide had often pondered the meaning of love, and how chaotic, heartbreaking and epic it was depicted in those books. To have someone that could wreck her enough that it hurt to breathe, to have someone that would consume her every thought and soul, to have someone that would make love feel like a death sentence and like divine intervention all in one breath.

Yes, she had read about love’s as such. Read all about them. Ridiculed the theatrics of it time and time again.

Because what books didn’t tell you was how love—true selfless and beautiful love— came unexpectedly. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t cause suffering. It didn’t break your heart in two.

Elide knew true love meant she’d found a home. A home that forever and always chose her. That always chose them. That they would forever chose each other.

And though she still held the same belief, she couldn’t help and question if there was truth in the romance novels she criticized. Elide couldn’t help and wonder if perhaps she had been wrong to dismiss the beauty that yearning and heartbreak could procure out of a single living being, but she knew the truth.

A love as such would not find her if the lords decided for her. That all consuming and eternal love that made her mother and father burn bright— the same admiration that Aelin held with Rowan— Elide wouldn’t find it. Ever. And she was okay with that. Had made peace with it while under Vernon’s clutches.

Her focus would remain on rebuilding Perranth, building the school for the children to attend to, continue training Terros, and her own training to handle the mantle of being a Lady once her father decided it was time to step down.

Noting her shift, Finnula made her way to the dresser overlooking one of the windows in Elide’s chambers. A drawer opened when Finnula spoke again changing the subject, “There’s rumor a guest will be joining us when Nox arrives tomorrow.” Grabbing a white nightgown for Elide, she held it out to her. “Rumor has it he’s handsome.”

Elide glared, taking the nightgown. “Keep your drooling to a minimum, Finnula.”

Her nursemaid raised her eyebrows a few times, a wicked smile on the old woman’s face and Elide fought her own grin. Shaking her head in disapproval, she stepped towards her bathing room, she couldn’t wait for a bath. “So long as he does what he needs to, what he looks like makes no difference to me.”

That same devilish look on Finnula remained as she responded to the lady she served so faithfully. “More for me, then.”

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The tall spires of the looming towers in the distance caught Lorcan by surprise, as did the many, many buildings leading to the castle. A city of adequate size near a daunting and large lake. He was not sure what exactly he expected but beauty wasn’t it, however, he would give credit where credit is due, and Perranth was beautiful. And it wasn’t raining.

The sun was out, it’s relentless rays of sunshine piercing through his black shirt, causing sweat to bead down his abdomen. The breeze from the lake making occasional rounds as he and Nox neared the city.

Two days of quiet travel from Orynth was a mercy Lorcan did not take for granted. After meeting the the stealthy and lean former assassin, Nox left him for the most part alone, and he was grateful for it. Lorcan had been sure fruitless conversation would follow him the entire way to this damn territory.

Nox on occasion, during the two day trek, would give him pieces of information about where they were heading, the people he would help train, and about his sister, Lady Elide Lochan. Though not related by blood, the two Lorcan learned, had shared a childhood. Lord Cal and Lady Marion Lochan took him in after their daughter found him roaming the woods alone. When Terrasen fell, the man by the name of Vernon had seen no use for him and threw him into to the most volatile streets Perranth had to offer, lying to his sister about his fate and apparently the Lord’s.

Aside from those few shreds of information, Nox left him be and Lorcan welcomed the silence.

Together on their horses, they trudged through the city. The whispers of the citizens of Perranth echoing around them both. Questioning the newcomer and his off-putting demeanor. Nox, to his merit, greeted those that approached and waved to the crowds as they parted to let them continue to the castle grounds. They passed store after store, food cart after food cart, dancing and singing fae and humans alike, until they were upon the castle of Perranth’s gates.

He saw Nox’s face light when he saw his home, the relief of finally being home. The guards standing outside politely nodded towards them after Nox announced himself, and began opening the gate. Metal groaned as they pulled the gates open, and soon they made their way past the stone wall, the metal gates, and the guards into what Fenrys described to him before he left as “His new home.”

Lorcan steered his horse to follow Nox towards the front go the castle, up the long winding dirt road and passed the many people working on the grounds. Just like in the city, his ears picked up the whispers of the mortals around him, all wondering the same thing. Who was he and why was he with their lords ward?

Ahead, Lorcan observed as the heavy wooden door to the castle opened and out walked an older woman. Nox quickly jumped off his horse and ran to the older woman, his muscular arms encircling her in an embrace.

The cheer that tinged the air made Lorcan’s stomach twist. A stablehand took the reins of Nox’s horse, leading it away, as the former assassin smiled down at the gray-haired woman.

Lorcan followed suit, dismounting his horse and handing it over to another stablehand, this one a boy barely into his youth. The boy dared a bucktoothed smile at Lorcan, one that Lorcan did not return.

“Finnula, this is Lorcan Salvaterre.” Nox said, addressing him now, a dark strand of hair falling into his forehead. “He will be residing here for the time being as he helps us train those with magic and soldiers alike.”

The older woman—Finnula—regarded Lorcan with pause. Her eyes roving over him in assessment. “The rumors held true, I see.” She said mumbling. “You are nice to look at.”

Lorcan blinked in shock? Surprise? He didn’t know, but before he could respond, Nox spoke again.

“Where is Elide?”

Finnula turned, motioning them into the castle and averted her gaze much too quickly. Neither he nor Nox moved to follow. The woman was hiding something, that much he caught on too, but whether Nox noticed remained to be seen. “Terros needed to fly.” Was all the answer she supplied them with.

Irritation flashed across Nox’s handsome face, but said nothing. He motioned to the door, wordlessly telling Lorcan to follow the woman inside.

Perranth castle proved to be of formidable size. Though not near as grand as the one in Orynth, he would need to learn the layout quickly, or he would lose himself in the endless staircases and hallways.

His guides steered him deep into the castle, up a few staircases and into a lonely hallway. Finnula opened the door at the end of the corridor and led them both inside. “Probably not as grand as what you had in Orynth, but the lady thought this would suffice.” She said in regards to his assigned chamber. “It comes with its own bathing chamber as well.

Lorcan stepped into the room, and pondered if the older woman was trying to be funny. The bedchamber assigned to him was just as grand as the one Aelin and Whitethorn supplied him with in Orynth, though these walls were made of stone. A single large window made its home along the far wall, a table with two chairs near it, and a fireplace in the wall adjacent. His bed, at least, was a size that he could be content with. Other than the furniture in the room, the room lacked art, and the warmth of personality. Not that he cared.

His pack slid to the carpeted floor. “When will I meet with the Lady?” He pestered. The quicker they met, the quicker his role here would begin and come to an end.

Finnula, lingering by the door, said, “She will see you in the morning as will we. Breakfast is served at about nine in the morning. Until then, we will leave you be.”

Her weathered gaze landed on Lorcan, mischievously before she, along with Nox, made their way out the door. Nox hesitated before closing the door. “I’m one floor down, should you need anything.”

Lorcan bobbed his head in agreement and before he knew it, he was alone staring at the space he would have to inhabit for the next few months, and refrained from releasing a violent burst of his magic.

When Lorcan awoke the next morning, a young maid entered his room and left him with new clothing and boots. He did not sneer at the offer, but welcomed it. The clothes he’d traveled in across Wendlyn, Adarlan and Terrasen, needed to be retired. He eyed the bathing chamber before getting out of bed.

The bath he took left his body feeling refreshed and alert. Lorcan tied his hair into a half-do and walked out of his room, down to where young maid had instructed breakfast was held. On his way down, his thoughts roamed towards the lady that had not greeted he and Nox on arrival yesterday. Would she grace him with her presence this morning, or would he have to deal with Nox’s annoyance as he did yesterday? He hoped it was neither.

Minutes ticked on by and Lorcan finally entered the dining hall. Nox sat, already eating with Finnula at his side. No sign of the heir.

Approaching slowly, Lorcan took in the platters of food. His stomach roared as he breathed in the smell of it all: bacon, eggs, bread and oatmeal.

“How was your night, Lorcan?” Finnula asked, biting into a piece of bread. Pulling the chair across form her own, Lorcan sat ungracefully. The table in the dinning hall was enormous, could easily sit about twenty people if needed. The dining hall had a. multitude of color piercing through the stained glass windows high along the stone walls of the castle. The warm light filling the space brought about a sense of peace and comfort that Lorcan dismissed immediately. Though not overtly elegant or grand, Lorcan found it ridiculous to use the space for the three of them.

An empty plate and utensils appeared before him, the same girl from this morning depositing them before him. His stomach grumbled again before he reached for the eggs. “Fine.”

“Not a man of many words is he?” The older woman pestered Nox beside her. Nox to his credit simply shrugged his slim shoulders, his gaze intent on his oatmeal.

“Am I to finally be graced with Cal Lohan’s heir’s presence?” Lorcan breathed, taking a bite of the eggs.

They could use more salt.

The sparkle in Finnula’s demeanor vanished at the mention of her Lady. “She is busy this morning. With the school and what not. “

Nox’s spoon clattered into his empty bowl, the sound ringing across the dining room. “She seems determined to be busy.” Nox countered with ire.

Taking a deep breath, Finnula’s thin lips parted to speak, but Nox stood abruptly. “I have matters to attend to, but I will meet with you in an hour or so time, Lorcan, and I will show you where training will be taking place, since my sister is busy.”

Without so much as a goodbye to Finnula, Nox stomped out of the dining hall, the tumultuous waves of his anger going with him.

When Lorcan turned his sight back to his food, he caught Finnula’s beady eyes on him. He was tempted to ask the old woman what the hell she found so interesting, but did not feel like being berated for his lack of manners, and a secret part of him that would never, ever admit aloud, was slightly afraid of the woman.

Together, the odd pair began their morning eating in the quiet of the castle. Lorcan content in the silence, finished eating before he excused himself. Finnula’s blue dress swayed as she too stood, “It’s a nice day for a walk. The grounds are lovely.”

Lorcan took her idea into consideration, and found it to be a good option. He didn’t feel like wandering the castle like an idiot, perhaps the fresh air and the sounds of the swaying grass would help clear his mind, help hold the constant rage within him at bay.

Alone, he wandered the grounds outside, letting his feet direct and steer him. He had no clear destination, didn’t want one, but he found himself making his way towards the lake hidden amongst the clearing of trees. Those working inside the castle’s territory avoided him as he made himself known.

He didn’t blame them.

The tendrils of his dark magic flowed freely around him, gauging the safety of his environment, ready to pounce at the first sign of threat. The scent of pine needles and bark reaching his nostrils long before he walked into the cover of the trees. Lorcan kept a steady rhythm as he continued through the vegetation, the sounds of birds, wild boars and the leaves his only companions.

Lorcan was perhaps one hundred feet from leaving walking into the world beyond when he heard it.

Wild and erratic splashing, a defiant roar and the voice of a woman. Inching forward, he approached quietly enough to remain hidden. The lake was a sight to behold. It’s sandy bank stretched for as far as his fae sight could muster, but it was not the lake that made his magic pause in excitement, nor was it the scenery that admittedly was beautiful beyond comprehension, but it was the ancient creature—a wyvern— before him rolling along the waves of the lake as they reached the shore.

A woman in servants attire, a green kerchief atop her dark hair, hollered at the wyvern to get out of the water. Her pale face red with embarrassment at the total disregard from the creature. “Terros, you beast! I said get out, now.” The woman seethed, her hand a fist at her side.

The beast turned it’s snakelike neck and its slitted eyes narrowed at the girl as he huffed in refusal. Lorcan gawked in awe, this was the lady’s mount. The very one he saw as he arrived in Orynth not even a week ago.

With his preternatural gifts, Lorcan stepped out of the brush of trees, and against his better judgment approached.

It was the wyvern, Terros, that sensed him first. The wyvern turned to him in question, it’s tail raising in warning, his teeth bared ready to protect the servant girl before him. At the creatures reaction, the woman turned and faced Lorcan.

Onyx eyes as dark as his own landed on him. The woman’s mouth agape at the sight of him, though no fear came from her. Lorcan was five feet from the girl before he came to a halt, not wanting to alarm the flying beast.

“He doesn’t take kindly to others.” The girl offered, her voice direct and unyielding.

At the sound of her voice, his magic yelped in glee. Lorcan refrained from glaring. Odd it was that his magic behaved as such, and again he was disgusted with his utter lack of self control. “What’s your name?” He asked, his gaze still on the wyvern joyfully still in the water.

“Adelaide.” The girl responded, her brows furrowed in question. She observed him with curiosity. He felt her notice his towering height, his muscular build, the near permanent scowl on his face and the power that billowed from him. “You,” she began tilting her head. “Must be the Demi-fae from Doranelle.”

Lorcan grunted in confirmation, not sure if he should be impressed she guessed correctly or disturbed that speak of him was running rampant. “Lorcan. You can call me Lorcan.” He replied warily. “What are you doing with this beast alone?”

Adelaide shrugged, a heaviness in her gaze that he rightfully ignored. “Terros as I said, is not kind to those he does not trust. I serve his rider, Lady Elide. Been with her since he was but a wyvling. My lady, Nox, and I are the only three he does not try to devour upon sight.” Humor tinted her voice, and Lorcan wondered if she was exaggerating in her statement. “I help her handle him when she is away.”

Lorcan said nothing to that. Terros, feeling Lorcan still eyeing him, watched him in return, a predator assessing its prey. “Seems too busy to bother meeting a new comer appointed by her majesty, your lady.”

Adelaides dark eyes flashed, a thought there and gone, much too quick for even he to catch. “Don’t take it personal, she has much to worry about.”

A gust of wind made its way from the lake, carrying the scent of elderberries and cinnamon with it. The scent of the woman before him he decided. Completely and irrevocably human. He was about to prod her more about his kind host, when his hearing caught Nox’s voice coming from the behind the trees. Not too close, but close enough that the former assassin would find him soon.

“It seems I’m needed elsewhere.” He said, turning his back to the girl and Terros, and admired the lack of questions from Adelaide.

He was to the tree line when she called out after him. “See you around, Lorcan.”

#elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #throne of glass #tog #elorcan #rowan whitethorn #sarah j maas #aelin ashryver galathynius #nox Owen #dorian havilliard #cal lochan #fenrys moonbeam #lord lorcan lochan #writing #ao3 #tog fanfic #tog fandom #throne of glass fanfic

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highladyofterrasen7 · 1 year ago

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On their wedding night:

Rowan: I take thee…

Aelin *whispering*: say it

Rowan: I take thee

Aelin: say it

Rowan: im not saying it

Aelin: yes you are

Rowan: *sigh* I take thee, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen, heir of Brannon, heir of mala fire-bringer, heir of fire, witch-slayer, queen of flame and shadow, fire breathing bitch queen, adarlans assassin, kings champion, formally known as Celaena Sardothien, Lillian Gordaina, Elentiya and Dianna Brackyn, also aelin of the wildfire, aelin fire-bringer, the queen who was promised, the queen who walked between worlds, gods-killer and fireheart, to be my wife.

Aelin *wiping away a tear*: it’s beautiful

#sarah j maas #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin ashryver whitethorn galathynius #rowaelin #empire of storms #queen of terrasen #fireheart #kingdom of ash #aedion ashryver #dorian havilliard #lysandra ennar #manon blackbeak #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #fenrys moonbeam #chaol westfall

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froggybogwitch · 3 months ago

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Meet Fenrys, Fenrys' boyfriend, Fenrys' boyfriend's wife, and Fenrys' boyfriend's wife's daughter. They all live very happily in Caraverre. This is canon. To me.

(Do Not Repost)

#art #throne of glass #ToG #fenrys moonbeam #aedion ashryver #Lysandra Ennar #Evangeline ToG #Fenrys/Aedion/Lysandra #they're written so very lgbt #all of them

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surielstea · 8 months ago

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Camping Affairs

Kinktober day 4: Size + Hair pulling

Pairing: Lorcan Salvaterre x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Reader and Lorcan have to share a tent and can’t find sleep, they find other ways to exhaust themselves.

A. Note: I’m so sorry this is late, it didn’t post when I scheduled it for some reason 😭😭, anywho, this is made specifically for the lovely @lexluvswriting because I’m simply here to feed her Lorcan obsession 🫶

6.9k words.

"You know, for being Maeve's pride and joys you'd think we'd be given better accommodations," I say as I lay out my bedroll, the tent Her Majesty supplied us with so small it was almost comical.

"We're warriors, not royalty," Lorcan grumbled from the outside of the canvas, giving me some privacy as I stripped from my leathers and into a nightgown.

"Speak for yourself," I scoffed, poking my head out of the flaps to look up at him. "Rowan is a prince," I say matter-of-factly. "Perhaps he could pull some strings and get us all our own tent," I suggest and he looks at me with that sneering expression he always wore.

"We've battled in wars, I think you can manage," He grumbled, motioning with his hand for me to recede back into the tent. I frowned but backed up and sidled onto my bedroll. I tried not to laugh at the sight of the seven-foot demi-fae crouching to stop his head from hitting the ceiling of the tent.

He gave me a glare that I assume was meant to intimidate me but it didn't affect me much when he had to walk on his knees in order to settle on his own bedroll.

All seven of Maeve's blood sworn were called to meet with her in Doranelle, something about the Lost Princess of Terrasan— I wasn't really listening when Rowan was briefing us, all I knew was that I was going to have to pack my life up for the crazed queen I was sworn to, again, and take the week hike away from my comfy home in Varese.

With only three tents, the seven of us were split into pairs. Two per tent, and one on watch outside. Gavriel had posed a system to put the smallest and the largest together, as to avoid uncomfortably in the tents— and I hadn't thought it would be a problem until now. Shoulder to shoulder, with my least favorite of the group.

"Why do you have to be built like a damned giant," I grumble as I shift away from him, the side of me pressing into the wall of the tent. I could've shifted onto my side and separated us a little further— but that would mean I'd have to face him, and at this proximity, I doubt it would be comfortable for either of us.

"Would you rather join Rowan and Fenrys?" Lorcan grumbles, sounding like he was talking in my ear he was so close. I smirk at the idea.

"Can't say I'd be displeased in the middle of that," I purr.

Lorcan sighs, muttering a string of curses, too low to make out. "You're insufferable." He decided on voicing.

"And yet, here we are, stuck with each other," I teased, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. "Don't pretend you don't love it."

He snorts. "I could think of better ways to spend my time."

"Oh?" I hum, turning toward him a little more, my cheek propped on my hand. "What would Lorcan Salvaterre rather be doing right now, instead of sharing a tent with yours truly?"

He shoots me a look, dark and brooding, but his lips twitch. "Not listening to you, for starters."

I roll my eyes. "If you weren't so quiet all the time, maybe I wouldn't have to fill the silence."

"There's silence because I'm trying to sleep," he retorts, though his tone is lighter, almost playful—at least, as playful as Lorcan ever gets.

I scoff, grinning. "Please, you never sleep. You just brood all night like some menacing statue."

"You should be grateful," he says, adjusting his position, his shoulder now brushing against mine. "At least I keep the monsters away."

"Monsters?" I snort. "The only thing I'm afraid of in this tent is your enormous leg crushing me in my sleep."

"You talk too much," Lorcan grumbles, though there's the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"I talk just enough to drive you insane," I shoot back, feeling a strange sense of victory at the idea of getting under his skin. "It's one of my many talents," I add, worsening the blow.

He doesn't respond, but his silence feels different this time. Like he's deciding whether to engage or just strangle me.

"If you're so miserable," I start, stifling a yawn, "you ought to throw me outside and have the whole tent to yourself," I utter, lifting my arms up over my head and stretching out to the best of my abilities.

"Don't tempt me," he grunts, though I don't miss the way his eyes follow me as I stretch, my movements exaggerated just to annoy him.

"You wouldn't know what to do with yourself," I murmur, settling back down. "Without me to keep you company."

"Go to sleep," he says, ignoring my words.

I smirk up at the stars. "Sweet dreams, Salvaterre."

His grumble is the only reply I get, but for some reason, the sound makes me smile.

The silence stretches on for a few minutes, and I do my best to settle in, but there's no ignoring the cramped space and the sheer presence of Lorcan taking up most of it. After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, I sigh dramatically.

"I can't sleep," I announced, knowing he was still wide awake.

From beside me, Lorcan groans, clearly exasperated. "Of course, you can't," he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, rolling onto my side to face him, our faces just inches apart in the dim light.

"That you're incapable of quieting down for more than a minute," he grumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"I've been quiet for at least five minutes!" I argue, though I can't help the grin tugging at my lips. "And anyway, it's your fault. You're hogging all the space."

He cracks an eye open, giving me a flat look. "You take up about as much room as a pillow. You have plenty of space."

"Then why can't I get comfortable?" I huff, shifting again, this time letting my arm bump against his on purpose.

"You're sleeping with the wolves tonight." He says like it’s a promise.

I gasp dramatically, my hand flying to my chest. "Lorcan Salvaterre, you would abandon me to the creatures of the night? Leave me defenseless and cold?"

"You're hardly defenseless," he says, but I catch the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I grin, triumphant. "I knew it—you do care."

"Care? I just don't want to explain to Maeve why I let you get eaten by a wyvern," he grumbles, turning onto his side so his back is to me.

I roll my eyes, inching closer just to annoy him. "You'd miss me," I murmur, as if it was an absent thought.

"Like a hole in my head."

I poke him between the shoulder blades. "Liar. You'd be lost without me. Who else would keep you entertained on these long, miserable missions?"

He doesn't respond right away, but I don't miss the way his shoulders tense at my words. "You're assuming I need entertainment."

"You're assuming you don't," I tease, leaning in until my chin is nearly resting on his arm. "Deep down, I know you love it. My sparkling wit, my endless charm—"

He turns so quickly that I almost tumble backward, his face suddenly centimeters from mine. His dark eyes glint with something that makes my heart skip a beat. "You're lucky I don't actually throw you out of this tent."

I blink up at him, trying to ignore the way my pulse races at the proximity. "You'd never."

His eyebrow raises. "You willing to bet?"

I raise mine right back, leaning in just a fraction more.

"I do." There's a brief moment where neither of us moves, the air between us charged with unspoken tension. Then, with a long-suffering sigh, Lorcan rolls his eyes and collapses back onto his bedroll.

"You're impossible," he mutters, covering his face with his arm. "Go to sleep before I do actually throw you out."

I smirk, victory swelling in my chest. "Admit it—you'd be bored out of your mind without me."

"If I admit it, will you shut up?"

"I'll think about it," I hum, settling back into my bedroll, feeling way more pleased with myself than I should.

"Fine," he growls. "I'd be bored."

I can't help the laugh that bubbles up. "See? Was that so hard?"

Lorcan groans again, louder this time. "It was unbearable."

"Goodnight, Lorcan," I say sweetly, curling up and closing my eyes, but I'm still grinning like an idiot.

From beside me, I hear a quiet mutter, almost too soft to catch. "Goodnight."

We lay there in silence for a few minutes, but as usual, my mind refused to settle. The darkness outside the tent feels suffocating, the air thick with anticipation of the mission ahead. I chew my bottom lip, turning over a dozen questions in my head before finally blurting out the one that's been nagging me all night.

"What do you think Maeve wants from us?"

Lorcan's groan is immediate. "You said you'd shut up," he grumbles, not even opening his eyes.

"I said I'd think about it, Salvaterre," I correct, nudging him with my elbow. "Besides, I can't sleep when you keep kicking me."

He huffs out a breath, lifting his arm from his eyes to glare at me. "I haven't moved an inch."

"Oh, really?" I feign innocence, shifting my foot to gently nudge his leg. "What do you call this?"

"That," he says flatly, "is you kicking me."

"I'm just showing you what it feels like," I shoot back, smirking as I prod his shin again.

"Stop that," he growls.

"I will when you answer my question."

"You should be more worried about surviving the week without me strangling you."

I huff, my face burning, but the silence that follows is heavier now—charged with the tension that neither of us wants to acknowledge. After a beat, I clear my throat, breaking it.

"You still didn't answer my question."

He sighs, long and dramatic. "How should I know? Probably some power play involving the Princess."

"Do you think they’ll ally?" I ask, though I know I'm pushing my luck.

He hesitates, his gaze flicking toward the tent's ceiling. "I don’t know," he admits. "Or she might just want us to deal with something different entirely. Maeve doesn't summon all of us for nothing."

I nod, feeling a shiver run through me. "I just hope we don't end up with another war on our hands."

Lorcan shifts slightly, his massive form somehow taking up even more space. "If we do, I'll be sure to shove you out in front to make use of all that 'charm' you keep going on about."

I roll my eyes, kicking him lightly under the blanket. "You're the worst."

He opens one eye to glance at me, unamused. "If I kill you in your sleep, it's your fault."

"Please," I scoff, sitting up slightly. "You couldn't strangle me even if you tried. I'd have you pinned in a heartbeat."

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, one that's more amused than I expected. "You? Pin me?"

I raise an eyebrow, refusing to back down. "You'd be surprised."

He tilts his head slightly, considering me with a dark glint in his eyes. "Go on, then. Prove it."

I blink, caught off guard by the challenge. "What, right now?"

He shrugs, the movement sending a ripple through his broad shoulders. "Unless you're too scared."

I narrow my eyes, inching closer. "I'm not scared."

His lips twitch, just barely, but enough to make my heart pound in my chest. "Then do it."

Before I can talk myself out of it, I shift, moving to straddle his waist. "Okay," I say, though my voice sounds much shakier than I intended. "See? You're completely at my mercy now."

Lorcan, infuriatingly, doesn't look remotely concerned. He just stares up at me, one eyebrow raised, as if waiting for something more. "That's it?"

"Well, I—" I start, but he interrupts by effortlessly grabbing my wrists in one of his massive hands and flipping me over before I can even process what's happening.

In the blink of an eye, I'm pinned beneath him, my back pressing into the bedroll as his weight holds me in place. His face hovers inches above mine, dark and unreadable, though I swear there's a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

"I think that's what you were trying to do," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but with a playful edge.

I glare up at him, trying to squirm, but he doesn't budge. "You cheated."

He leans in slightly, his breath brushing against my cheek. "You didn't give me much of a challenge."

"You're such a brute," I snap, though I'm more frustrated with myself for falling right into his trap.

"I can't believe I made Whitethorn train you instead, this is delightful."

"Oh please, you just forgot the feel of a woman beneath you."

"Care to remind me what I've been missing?" His smirk widens, daring me to say more.

"Depends, what do I get in return?"

"A lesson, maybe I'll teach you what it's like to be beneath someone who knows how to be in control."

His words hang in the air between us, and my breath catches, the challenge in his voice igniting something deep within me. I try to maintain my composure, but the way his dark eyes lock onto mine makes it difficult. There's an intensity in his gaze that makes my heart race, a spark of something primal that sends shivers down my spine.

"Is that so?" I reply, my voice teasing yet laced with curiosity. "And just how do you plan to do that?"

"A demonstration," he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath warms my skin, his lips hovering tantalizingly above mine.

The space between us crackles with tension, my heart pounding in my chest as I hold his gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation. Instead, I find determination mixed with that devil-may-care amusement that is so quintessentially Lorcan. It drives me wild.

"Show me, then," I challenge, emboldened by the heat of the moment.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and before I can brace myself, he captures my wrists in his powerful hands and shifts, pinning them above my head against the soft canvas of the tent. My breath hitches at the sudden thrill of being completely at his mercy, the weight of his body pressing me into the bedroll, a heady mix of vulnerability and exhilaration flooding my senses.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice low, teasing, but there's an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a thrill racing through me.

"Do I have a choice?" I reply, trying to sound defiant but feeling the flush of excitement creeping up my neck.

"Good answer," he says, leaning down, his lips barely brushing against mine, teasingly close yet just out of reach. The warmth of his breath sends tingles across my skin, and I can't resist the urge to lean in, desperate for that connection.

"Stop teasing," I whisper my heart racing, the air thick with unspoken tension. "Just kiss me already."

With a low growl of approval, he closes the distance, capturing my lips with his in a fierce, passionate kiss. It's electric, a jolt that sends sparks dancing along my nerves, igniting every inch of my skin. The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the taste of him—warm and intoxicating.

His lips move against mine with a hungry urgency, coaxing me into the rhythm of it. I respond instinctively, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, urging him on. The world outside the tent fades away, leaving only the two of us, entangled in the heat of the moment.

I can feel the weight of his body pressing into mine, the way his strength envelops me, sending a rush of desire coursing through my veins. It's overwhelming and intoxicating, igniting a fire within me that I didn't know was there.

I part my legs and he adjusts, slotting between them— gods it was an effort for my legs to even widen enough. He grabbed my thigh in one of his large hands and guided it up higher, then the other, until I was in a mating press beneath him. He smirked against my lips, his hands moving to trail up my sides. "Now you're really at my mercy," He purred and my core thrummed in anticipation.

"Lorcan," I panted into his open mouth, unable to find the words to tell him how badly I needed this.

"As much as I love the sound of you moaning my name, I need you to stay quiet for me, yeah?" He asked and I sucked in a breath, nodding all too quickly, too desperately.

He smirked at the reaction and captured my lips with his yet again, devouring me as he pried my mouth open with his tongue, exploring me with it, not missing a spot uncovered.

I tugged at the waistband of his pants and he captured my wrist before I could tug them down much further. "Not yet, I need to stretch you out first," He warned, his tone brooking no argument.

I let out a soft whimper of protest and he pressed his mouth onto mine, his voice softening as he said, "I don't want to hurt you, be patient for me and I promise I'll make you feel good alright?" He reassured me, his thumb brushing over the pulse point of my wrist before releasing it.

I nod slowly, slipping my hands into his silky black hair while he pushes up my nightgown.

He practically tore through my panties without a second thought, then froze for a moment before making contact. His eyes flicked to mine and I returned his stare with pleasing eyes and a rapid nod. He leaned down, below my lips and to the line of my jaw, making his way down the column of my throat before his calloused fingertips came to contact with my pulsing cunt.

His lips morphed into a malicious smile as he felt just how badly I needed him, the way I was practically dripping down his hand. "So wet, and here I was thinking you hated me?" He drawled against my skin, kissing down my chest and then back up to the hollow of my throat.

I tug at his hair, silently begging him for more. "Lorcan," I whine, words failing me as I arch into his touch, attempting to get even the smallest taste of pleasure. "Please, touch me," I swallow past the lump in my throat.

"I am touching you, love," He whispered, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear.

My brows furrowed, features contorting with need. "Inside of me, please," I beg. A smirk pulls at his lips and he leans closer, gently pressing his lips to my cheek— too gentle to be casual. But I didn't have time to weigh the action because suddenly he had two fingers pushing inside of my aching cunt, stretching me out.

A gasp escaped me and he swallowed it greedily before connecting our lips again, silencing me.

His long, calloused fingers pumped skillfully into me, grazing against my contracting walls. "Fuck, you're tight," He breathed as I clenched desperately around his hand, gripping his hair but not pulling. His other hand snaked up my propped-up thigh, pinning it down with a possessive need.

His thumb met my clit and it took everything in me not to scream, to cry out his name. "That's it," He encouraged. "Such a good girl, staying quiet for me," He praised, making the tension in my core tighten until it was nearly unbearable.

My overwhelming need for release was all-consuming, every thrust of his fingers, every roll of his thumb sent me reeling. He knew I was close, knew from the way I was trembling beneath him— I knew that he knew, but still, I cried in protest when his hand stilled.

"Not yet," He warned softly, pulling his hand out of me entirely, leaving me empty and aching. I opened my mouth to protest, to beg him to keep going, but he cut me off with a searing kiss, swallowing my complaints with his lips. "I said, be patient," He whispered against my mouth, his tone dark and commanding. "And when you come, it'll be on my cock. Understood?"

I nodded quickly, my breath coming in desperate pants, the tension in my body screaming for release. But I clamped down on my objections, not wanting him to drag this out longer than he already meant to.

His smirk widened, pleased with my compliance, and he finally rid himself of the last of his clothes, his pants hitting the ground with a soft thud. The sight of him—broad and powerful, his skin glistening in the dim light of the tent—made my pulse quicken, and the need to feel him inside me surged with renewed intensity.

He moved to get rid of my clothes too, still bunched at my hips. Luckily he didn't rip it off of me as he did with my panties, instead guided the material over my head, baring me to the brisk night air and his intense gaze.

"Beautiful," He whispered softly, pressing a claiming kiss to the top of one of my breasts. My lip wobbled with a need to moan but I held it down, instead distracted myself with the sight of him.

His shirtless figure was a sight to behold, carved muscle and a chest as hard as marble, but it was what was below his torso that made me pause.

I had expected Lorcan to be big, but gods. I had been with many men in my immortal life, and still, he made me freeze.

His smirk widened as he noticed where my stare was directed. He settled himself between my thighs, his broad frame dwarfing mine. I could feel the heat of him pressing into me, so much of him. My breath hitched, and his dark eyes flicked down, catching the way I bit my lip as he aligned himself at my entrance. His size alone had me trembling, and he knew it—relishing in the subtle way my body tensed beneath him.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I almost feel bad," he whispered, "about how much I'm going to stretch you out."

A low whimper escaped me, and I felt his grin against my skin. My fingers curled into his hair, tugging lightly as I drew him closer, desperate for more. His eyes darkened as I pulled harder, and I could feel the tension ripple through his body.

"Be good for me, love, and stay still," he purred, voice a velvety rasp. His hips barely moved, teasing me with the blunt head of his cock as he pushed forward just enough to stretch me—just enough to drive me wild. He pulled back before I could feel the full pressure, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he watched my hips arch off the bedding, chasing him.

"You're so desperate," he murmured, his breath hot against my throat, "so needy." His tone was teasing in a way that would usually enrage me, but the way he said it sent a rush of heat to my core instead, making me clench around nothing, aching for him to fill me.

"Lorcan," I whispered, my voice trembling as I shifted beneath him, trying to ease the ache. He groaned at the sound of his name on my lips, and the tension in his body told me he was holding back, keeping himself in check for my sake.

Slowly, torturously, he guided himself to my entrance, the blunt head of his cock teasing me, stretching me open just enough to make me gasp. My nails dug into his shoulders as he began to push forward, the burn of the stretch sending sparks of pain-laced pleasure through my core.

"Fuck," I breathed, my eyes squeezing shut as he inched deeper. He was so big—bigger than I'd expected—and I had to fight to keep my breaths steady as my body adjusted to the size of him.

Lorcan paused for a moment, letting me catch my breath, his large hand caressing my thigh in slow, soothing strokes. "You're doing so well," he murmured, his voice a low rasp, full of restraint. "Just relax for me."

"Stay still," he breathed, voice rough as he pulled back just enough to make me whine, the emptiness unbearable. "Gods, it's hard to control myself when you keep moving like that."

A shiver ran through me at his words, my core clenching around him as he pressed forward again, slow and deliberate, giving me every thick inch of him until I was stretched impossibly full. My legs trembled as they tried to accommodate his size, and his hands came down to hold them steady, lifting my thighs higher, and spreading me wider beneath him.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his voice dropping to a growl as he adjusted his angle, sliding deeper still. "Good girl, taking me so well."

I whimpered at the praise, my fingers tangling in his hair, tugging harder now, desperate to feel him move. His breath hitched, a low moan escaping him as I pulled, and I could feel the way it affected him—how much it pushed him closer to the edge of his restraint.

But Lorcan wasn't one to be rushed.

He withdrew agonizingly slow, leaving me panting beneath him, aching for him to fill me again. "You can handle a little more, can't you?" he teased, his lips curling into a smirk as he saw the need in my eyes. My hands moved from his hair to the nape of his neck, trying to pull him back down to me, urging him on, but he caught my wrists with ease, pinning them above my head with one large hand. The contrast in size was startling—his fingers easily wrapping around both of my wrists, holding me completely at his mercy.

He leaned down, his lips barely brushing mine as he whispered, "Stay still, or I'll make you wait longer."

A soft whimper escaped me, and he chuckled darkly, pleased with my compliance. Slowly, he started to move again, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one drawing out the delicious stretch, making me gasp as he filled me completely, finally bottoming out as his hips pressed into mine.

My body trembled beneath him, the intensity of it building with every slow, torturous thrust. I could feel the thick slide of him inside me, the way my walls clenched around his cock, desperate to hold him, to keep him deep inside. But Lorcan kept up the slow pace, each thrust deeper than the last, drawing me out, making me feel every inch of him.

"Fuck, so tight," he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with desire. His free hand slid down my side, gripping my waist as he pulled me closer, his hips rolling into me with a new intensity that made me see stars.

"Lorcan," I mewled, writhing beneath him, bucking my hips up to meet his

He let out a low growl as I continued to disobey his order to stay still. "If you keep doing that," he warned, his voice thick with strain, "I'm not going to be able to stop myself."

"Then don't," I breathed, my voice trembling as I arched into him, wanting—needing—more.

His eyes darkened, and before I could say anything else, he was moving again, faster now, his thrusts more intense, each one hitting deeper, making me cry out in pleasure. He swallowed my moans with his mouth, devouring me with a kiss so fierce it left me breathless.

Lorcan's hand, the one not gripping my wrists, slipped between us, his thumb brushing over my clit with just enough pressure to make me gasp, my body jerking beneath him. "Stay quiet," he reminded me, his voice a low growl as his thumb circled slowly, teasingly. "We wouldn't want anyone to hear, would we?"

I shook my head frantically, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out as his pace quickened, the tension inside me building unbearably with every push and pull of his powerful hips, every circle of his thumb on my sensitive clit. I was so close, so on edge, but I knew he wasn't going to let me go just yet. He wanted to drag it out, to make me feel every second of it.

His lips ghosted over my ear as he whispered, "I love how small you feel beneath me—how perfectly you fit around my cock."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, making my walls tighten around him in response. I could feel the heat of his body pressing into mine, the steady rhythm of his thrusts making me dizzy with desire. The way he filled me, stretched me, it was almost too much—almost, but not enough.

I wanted more. I needed more.

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at me, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. "Gods, you're so fucking tight," he growled, his voice low and guttural as he picked up the pace, thrusting into me harder, deeper. My body arched beneath him, instinctively chasing the pleasure only he could give me.

His hand, still holding my wrists above my head, tightened its grip, his other sliding down my body to grab hold of my waist, pulling me against him with each thrust. The intensity was overwhelming, but I craved every second of it. His thumb returned to my clit, circling it with maddening precision, making my toes curl and my breath catches in my throat.

I bit down on my lip, desperate to keep quiet as he'd commanded, but it was nearly impossible with the way he was driving me to the brink, over and over again. I could feel the pressure building in my core, a white-hot ball of tension that threatened to unravel me at any moment.

"You close baby?" Lorcan rasped, his voice rough as he ground his hips into mine, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. His thumb pressed harder on my clit, the friction sending shockwaves through my body.

I nodded frantically, unable to form coherent words, my head spinning with the need for release.

"Beg for it," he commanded, his breath hot against my ear as he continued his relentless pace, driving me wild. "Beg me to let you come."

I whimpered, my body trembling beneath him as I struggled to find the words. "Please, Lorcan," I whispered, my voice shaking as I arched up against him, desperate for more. "Please, please I can't hold it— I need it, Lor."

He groaned at my words, his thrusts becoming harder, more erratic, his control slipping. "Good girl," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Go ahead, come on my cock."

With those words, the tension inside me snapped. My entire body clenched around him, my back arching off the bed as I came undone, the wave of pleasure crashing over me so violently I saw stars. I bit down on my lip, stifling the scream that threatened to escape as my orgasm tore through me, every nerve in my body alight with sensation.

Lorcan let out a low, guttural groan as he felt me clench around him, his pace faltering as he chased his own release. His hips snapped into mine one last time, burying himself deep inside me as he came with a low growl, his body trembling with the force of it.

For a long, breathless second, neither of us moved, the sounds of our ragged breathing the only thing filling the air. But as the intensity slowly ebbed, Lorcan pulled back, his smirk already returning to his lips. He let out a satisfied hum as he leaned down to press a lazy kiss to my jaw. "See? You can follow orders when you really want to."

I swatted his chest weakly, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Don't get used to it," I said, still panting, though my voice had a playful edge to it.

He chuckled, rolling off me and settling onto his side, his large arm draped possessively over my waist. "I don't need to. You'll break soon enough."

I snorted, feeling the familiar banter falling back into place. "You're dreaming, Salvaterre. If anything, you're the one breaking. You were practically trembling back there."

His dark eyes flashed with amusement, and he leaned down to brush his lips against my ear. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "If I was really trying to break you, you wouldn't even be able to walk right now."

I rolled my eyes, unable to stop the grin tugging at my lips. "Bold words for an old man who can barely control himself."

He raised a brow, his grip on my waist tightening just enough to remind me of his strength. "Care to test that theory?"

I shot him a challenging look, though the heat still lingered in my veins. "Maybe next time," I teased, flipping onto my side to face him, our noses brushing and suddenly the tent didn't feel all that small. "You've got to save some energy if you plan on keeping up with me, after all."

His eyes glinted with amusement, and the playful edge in his smile sent a shiver of anticipation through me. "Oh, you have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into,"

With a wink, I scooted a little further from him— well, as far as I could, feigning innocence. "Well, in that case, let's see if you can keep your hands to yourself until morning."

Lorcan's low chuckle reverberated in the tent, his eyes gleaming with challenge as he watched me. "Go to sleep already," He insisted. I look at him, staring at his features softened by the moonlight filtering through the canvas.

And as I settled back into the blankets, his body warm beside mine, I couldn't help but smirk, knowing that the game between us was far from over. "Goodnight, Lor," I mumble quietly.

The faint light of dawn filtered through the tent, pulling me from sleep. The warmth of Lorcan's body was missing, and the space beside me felt cool to the touch. I blinked groggily, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I rolled onto my back, pulling the thin blankets over my bare body, the events of the previous night replaying in my mind.

I swallowed hard, my heart thudding as I thought about everything—what it meant to have crossed that line with Lorcan. We'd been stuck in this tense back-and-forth, pushing each other's buttons ever since I met the male, but last night had changed everything, we stepped past a boundary we couldn't come back from. A part of me wondered if it would be different now, or if he'd go back to being the brooding, impossible male he was before. My chest tightened, but I pushed the thought aside. No use overthinking it, especially when we had a mission to accomplish.

I took a deep breath, sitting up and squaring my shoulders as I reached for my clothes, trying to act as normal as possible. We had orders and obligations, and I couldn't afford to be distracted by what happened between us. But gods, it was hard to ignore the lingering ache in my body, between my legs, the reminder of how thoroughly Lorcan had claimed me.

I ran my hands through my messy head of hair and braided it back to have somewhat of a semblance of neatness. With my nightgown replaced by my gear, I slipped out of the tent, the early morning air crisp against my skin, my boots crunching on the fallen leaves. As I approached the campfire, I spotted Lorcan among the rest of Maeve's blood sworn—all gathered around, the smell of campfire smoke filling my senses.

The moment I stepped to where the rest sat, Fenrys' head snapped up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, well," he drawled, his golden eyes sparkling with amusement. "Look who decided to join us."

I forced a casual smile, pretending I hadn't noticed the way the rest of the males exchanged looks. "Good morning," I said, keeping my voice steady, though I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I kept my eyes off Lorcan as I took a seat beside the white wolf, ignoring the tension in my stomach that was somewhere between knots and butterflies.

Lorcan didn't say anything, but I could feel his presence in front of me, his tall frame looming over the fire as he flipped something on the skillet. I couldn't tell what it was amidst the flames, but with the way Vaughan and Rowan were wincing something told me it was a bird one of the others seemed good enough to eat.

Rowan raised a brow at me, his sharp gaze flicking between Lorcan and me before he smirked. "You sleep well?" he asked innocently, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed him.

I shot him a sidelong glance. "As well as I could, considering someone was snoring."

Fenrys snorted, nudging Gavriel on the other side of him, who was trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. "Must've been some noise last night," Fenrys said under his breath, not bothering to hide the grin that tugged at his lips.

Heat surged to my face, and I glared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Gavriel gave a soft cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, while Fenrys outright cackled. "Don't worry," Fenrys said, flashing me a wink. "No judgments here."

My face felt like it was on fire, and I was sure my expression was betraying me, but I shot back, "How sweet of you, Fenrys."

"You know, if you ever grow bored of the brooding male you could always come join me in my tent instead," Fenrys added, leaning back on his palms with his signature smirk. "I could show you what it's like to really be loud," He suggested and I swore Lorcan's knuckles turned white he was gripping his hunting knife so tightly. But he remained steady, didn't so much as look at us as he awaited my reply.

"Tempting, Fenrys, but I think I'll stick with what I have. Once you go tall, dark, and brooding, it's hard to go back." I say, flicking my gaze past the fire to Lorcan, whose shoulders visibly relaxed.

Fenrys clenched at his chest, pretending to be mortally wounded. "Ah, so it's like that, is it?" he quipped, but the glint in his eye said he was far from offended. "I guess I'll just have to find solace in knowing I could've changed your life forever."

I grinned, leaning back on my hands as I shot him a mock-sympathetic look. "You'll survive, Fenrys. I hear rejection builds character."

He was about to retort when Rowan chimed in, his deep voice filled with dry amusement. "I don't know, Fenrys. After last night, it sounds like she found someone more than capable of showing her a good time."

My cheeks flamed as I glared at Rowan, though I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You too, huh?" I shot back.

Before Fenrys could continue the teasing, Lorcan finally broke his silence, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Don't you have better things to do than gossip about things that don't concern you?" He still didn't look up from the skillet, but the hard set of his jaw and the tension in his broad shoulders were unmistakable.

Vaughan, silent as ever, gave a half-shrug, tossing a stick into the fire as he added his two cents, his voice calm but amused. "Considering the noise last night, it kind of does concern all of us."

A chorus of snickers followed, and even Gavriel cracked a grin. My face went up in flames, and I buried it in my hands. "You all need better hobbies," I muttered into my palms, but it did nothing to stop the laughter ringing through the camp.

I turned my head just enough to catch Lorcan's eyes as he finally glanced over at me, the firelight flickering in his gaze. The corner of my lips lifted in a challenging smirk.

"If you lot are done, breakfast is ready." He moved and passed me a plate, his warm hand brushing against mine for just a second—a flicker of something unspoken passing between us—before he turned back to the skillet.

The knowing looks from the others didn't stop throughout breakfast. Fenrys continued to make sly comments, Rowan smirked every time Lorcan so much as glanced at me, and even Gavriel, the most serious of the group, couldn't completely hide his amusement.

I had managed to block all of their comments and snickering remarks out, but for some reason, I wasn't able to shake the stare Lorcan had pinned on me.

I looked over to him and for a moment his eyes flicked down to my lips, a challenge. I smirked, beckoning him to test the silent boundaries. He didn't move, but he didn't look away either, and something told me we were nowhere near finished with each other.

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alaraowo · 3 months ago

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I don't think we give ToG enough credit for showing us that deep connections don't have to be romantic

Yes, the series technically classifies as romantasy, and yes, there is a lot of romance in there, but not only.

There is Manon and the Thirteen, who teach us that the family we build for ourselves is so much more important than the one we're born into.

Aelin, Dorian, and Chaol, who show us that sometimes you just need a hand to pull you out of the dark hell you wound up in.

Aelin and Ansel who teach us that sometimes we make mistakes, and those mistakes hurt the people around us, but that doesn't make them unforgivable.

My personal favorite, Fenrys and Aelin, who had a bond so deep they were the only things that kept each other sane through months of torture, so deep Fenrys broke the unbreakable blood oath and SURVIVED for Aelin's sake.

There is so much love in ToG. Platonic, romantic, between all genders.

Fuck I love this series so much

#tog #throne of glass #fenrys moonbeam #aelin galathynius #chaol westfall #dorian havilliard #ansel of briarcliff #manon blackbeak #the thirteen #platonic love

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moonlitstoriess · 1 year ago

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Across the Universe (Fenrys x Reader) series masterlist

Warnings: mentions of trauma, mentions of abuse, violence, smut

Chapter one Chapter ten

Chapter two Chapter eleven

Chapter three Chapter twelve

Chapter four Chapter thirteen

Chapter five Chapter fourteen

Chapter six Chapter fifteen

Chapter seven Chapter sixteen

Chapter eight Final chapter

Chapter nine

#acotar #throne of glass #fenrys moonbeam #azriel #fenrys x reader #illyrian

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shadowdaddies · 10 months ago

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Anywhere

Fenrys x Reader fluff

A/N: dipping my toe back into writing to see if I can still do it before I try to conquer requests

Soft wisps of clouds drifted lazily across the vibrant blue skies of Terrasen, the gentle breeze that blew along with them granting a cool contrast to the sun on your skin.

Pushing your arms above your head, toes pointed as you stretched the muscles throughout your body, a gentle yawn following along with your satisfied smile.

“Beautiful,” Fenrys whispered next to you, watching as you hummed in agreement.

Your hands twined in the blades of grass beneath them as you savored the feeling of the emerald earth against your skin. “It is a beautiful day,” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut as you moved your arms to fold behind your head.

The feeling of warmth from the sun gave way to a different, familiar warmth as Fenrys’s body turned into your own, a broad hand sliding across your waist. “I wasn’t talking about the weather,” he murmured, voice rough and low from where his mouth settled at your throat.

Heat rose to your cheeks, breath drawing shallow at the feeling of his knowing grin spreading across the sensitive skin, canines dragging lightly down to rest on your collarbone. Faster than you could process, Fenrys pulled away, onyx eyes taking in your dazed expression, the flush on your cheeks and chest heavy with want.

“Fenrys,” you half-scolded, half-pleaded as your hand reached to brush golden curls from his face. With a low laugh, your mate, caught your hand with his, eyes still locked on yours as he pressed a tender kiss to your palm.

“Care to join me for a swim?” he questioned, eyebrow arched as he glanced between you and the sparkling lake that lay just down the hill. Unsure if it was the clouds that had slowly disappeared from the sky, or the way Fenrys was looking at you, a wave of heat coursed through your veins.

You nodded swiftly, allowing Fenrys to draw you to your feet just to throw you over his shoulder as he began bounding towards the lake. Your weak, laughter-filled protests had no effect on the warrior, setting you back on your feet when he’d reached the water’s edge.

Stripping off his shirt, your mate flashed you a lopsided grin as his hands reached for the ties of his pants. “Are you going to join me, or do you prefer to watch?” he teased, nodding at the dress still covering your body.

Rolling your eyes, you smiled up at him. “Of course, I’ll join you anywhere,” you promised, pushing up onto your toes as he met you for a kiss.

“Then allow me,” he murmured against your lips, his mouth trailing down your jaw and lower, towards where his hands deftly undid the laces of your dress. The warm sun bore its heat upon your newly exposed skin for only a moment before Fenrys’s hands found your backside, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist while he carried you into the cool lake.

“I love you,” you whispered, arms locked around his neck, head laid against his chest where you listened to his heartbeat.

Lips pressed against the top of your head, and lingered there. “And I love you.” Lowering you to where you stood in the water, chests pressed against one another, Fenrys’s arms wound around you once more, a cocoon of solace into which you gratefully relaxed.

You simply stood there for awhile - enjoying the closeness of one another, the oneness with your mate and with nature - before finally stepping out of the water. As Fenrys helped redo the last ties on your dress, his dark eyes grew soft - a look that you knew all too well at this point.

His gaze shone with sincerity, with the same devotion he’d shown as he spoke his vows on your wedding day. Dark eyes grew soft, his hands winding through your hair to tilt your gaze to his. “Thank you, for just being with me,” he smiled softly.

Returning his smile, you brought your hands to his cheeks. “Every day, I don’t know how I could love you any more than I already do. Yet every day, I fall for you a little more. There is nowhere I would rather be than by your side. On the best days, on the worst days, on these quiet days. I’ll go anywhere with you.”

#throne of glass #throne of glass x reader #fenrys moonbeam #throne of glass fanfiction #fenrys x reader #fenrys throne of glass #fenrys tog #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fluff #throne of glass x reader fluff #tog fic #tog fluff #tog x reader #fenrys x reader fluff #fenrys moonbeam x reader #throne of glass x you #fenrys x you #fenrys moonbeam fluff #fenrys moonbeam x you

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fanwarriorfictions · 4 months ago

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Help Me, Help You - Part Sixteen

Fenrys x f!Reader

Summary- Fenrys and Y/n finally have the time to themselves with no interruptions

Warnings- smut(very little plot lol)

Series Masterlist

Part Sixteen

Home.

The word spins around in her head at a dizzying pace as she walks. As she gets closer and closer to their room, her brother’s words get louder in her mind, your home, and her heart seems to beat in time with the words. This room wasn’t her home, but neither was the cottage across the ocean, she didn’t know where home was anymore, but it seemed like her brother did, perhaps her heart did too.

Y/n and Vaughan had spent nearly half the night telling each other of their adventures, the ones they planned to take, and it felt like they’d gone back in time. When she would stay up for as long as she physically could to spend as much time with him as possible before he slipped away again. She’d nearly fallen over in her seat when Vaughan had insisted that she go back to bed, she only left when he swore he would still be there in the morning. Even as she walked away, she wasn’t quite convinced he would be.

The stone halls around her are dark, the riders of the clan already in their beds, the torches on the walls snuffed out. It is only due to her fae sight and this little tugging in her gut that she is able to find the door to the room at all. It was like her body knew exactly where Fenrys was, even when she could not see him.

Quietly, she slips through the door, expecting to find him snoring in the small bed and she’d have to force herself into what little space was left beside the massive male. She’d end up lying on top of him in her sleep, either by her traitor of a body moving on its own, or by the male tugging her onto his chest.

Instead, she finds Fenrys sitting up, leaning heavily against the wall behind the bed, and he’s squinting down at a book in the dim candle light. Her heart beats faster, in time with the words in her head, home, home, home.

“You’re still up?”

His gaze lifts to hers and she winces, how he was reading with one of his eyes nearly swollen shut she has no idea. Fenrys marks the page and sets the book down beside him, giving her a soft grin that pulls at the split in his lip. Y/n moves towards him, perching on the edge of the bed, reaching for him like its second nature. She cradles his face in her palms, her thumb stroking over the wounded lips that had kissed her so soundly earlier, had kissed other parts of her too. Y/n tries to push those memories to the side, ignoring the heat in her veins, but that is nearly impossible when his hands fall on her waist, a gentle pressure to keep her in place.

“I told you I’d wait for you,” he says, kissing the pad of her thumb.

“You didn’t have to,” she whispers, “It’s late.”

Fenrys shrugs, and she notices the wince he tries to hide at the motion, “This is nothing, kitten. I’ve gone days, nearly weeks without sleep before.”

“I’m sure you have,” Y/n says with a soft smile, “You’ll have to tell me all of your war stories.”

Fenrys grins and it pulls on his cut lip, “I’ll tell you whatever stories you’d like to hear.”

Her fingers trail over the edge of the bruise around his eye and the one on his jaw, her magic spooling in her chest, ready to be released. She holds it back, wrestling her magic into submission, the last time she’d used her powers on him had been an accident but it had taken to much from him against his will, she wouldn’t do that again.

“Can I?” She lightly grazes the cut on his temple, “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

There is a softness in his eyes, an understanding, as he nods once, “Do your worst, kitten.”

As if drawn in by an invisible force, she leans into him, gently kissing his temple, the cut slowly stitching together and disappearing entirely. When his eyes shut, a sigh of relief passing his lips, she trails her lips down, touching the bruised eye that shifts from black to yellow to his golden brown skin. And when he blinks up at her, seeing her clearly, his eyes are so full of emotion, and her heart is beating so rapidly, home, home, home, she kisses him, letting her magic seek and heal.

His arms are around her, pulling her into him until she is flush against his chest. She fights to keep her control, to not let his expert mouth distract her, to make her as mindless as she’d been their first kiss, when she had taken to much. She pulls back, panting, forcing her magic back down into the well it usually sat in, and when she sees that scar still intact on his brow, she sighs in relief.

Fenrys takes a deep breath, his brows no longer furrowed in pain, “You’re astonishing, kitten.”

Before she can even think to respond, his mouth is on hers again, and Fenrys shifts, twisting them so she is lying on the bed with him above her. Y/n wraps her arms around his neck, and Fenrys kisses her, slowly, lazily, taking his time to drive her absolutely wild. He is in no rush, taking all of her soft sighs and purrs, tucking them away for later. It’s almost torturous, the languid pace he sets, because all she wants is more, more of him, more of whatever this thing between them was, the aching need, the undeniable tug she could feel on her heart, as if there was this little string tied to it, and on the other side sat Fenrys and his own heart, beating in time with her own. Home, home, home.

He pulls back, just enough to whisper against her lips, “We should sleep.”

It’s the last thing she wants to do, and she knows he wants exactly what she does, the evidence of that is pressed against her thigh. She wants to wrap her legs around him and pull him closer to her, to feel him pressed against her core instead, to drive him as wild as he does her. But his massive form keeps her pinned, unable to move, to do anything but beg him to relieve some of the pressure between her thighs.

“Fenrys,” she pleads.

He kisses her again, keeping that same slow pace, before whispering, “You’re exhausted, you need to rest.”

“I need you,” she says, and she pulls him back to her lips, pouring the fire in her veins into him, “I need you more than I’ve needed anything.”

Her heart is hammering in her chest, home, home, home. Y/n can feel the word pounding against her ribs, fueling the fire in her veins, the need to drive this male over the edge of his control. She pulls his healed lip between her teeth, biting hard enough to draw a groan from deep in his chest. Her own chest tightens, and she arches into him, his hands slip beneath her back, pressing her closer and she knows she’s almost won.

“You need sleep.” He kisses her between each word, pulling back just enough to groan, “Let me be a gentleman for once in my life.”

“Fenrys,” she gasps into his mouth, and she shoves him over the edge, “Stop being so honorable and fuck me.”

And she’s won.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me, kitten.”

Fenrys feels the weak hold over his control break at her request and he realizes he would do anything she asked of him, no blood oath necessary. He would walk into the burning pit in the center of this fortress if she asked, he would burn and yield everything he was and is and he would die happily. He would do whatever she wanted and if she wanted him to fuck her, gods he would.

He pulls away from her and rips his shirt over his head, throwing the fabric across the room, not caring where it lands as her legs wrap around his hips, pulling their bodies flush together. Fenrys can’t hold back his groan as she rolls her hips upwards, giving his aching hard length much needed friction. He’s falling back into her, capturing her lips in a burning kiss that leaves them both panting.

His hands rip at the cloth hiding her body from him, she can yell at him for ruining the shirt later, right now he needs to see the perfect shape of her, feel her beneath his palms. When her chest is exposed to him, he wastes no time, the soft flesh of her breast fitting perfectly into his hands as if they were made solely to touch her, to please her.

Fenrys drags his mouth away from hers, letting her moans fill the air around them as he kisses down her throat, over her collar, and between the valley of her breasts. Y/n arches into him, her legs squeezing his hips like a vice, and he can feel the promising heat of her hiding beneath her leggings. He wants nothing more than to rip the cloth from her legs and sink into that heat, and from the whimpering pleas coming from her lips, he knows that is exactly what she wants.

“Fen- please,” she gasps, her head thrown back against the pillow, “Gods I need you.”

“I know,” Fenrys groans, “Lift your hips, kitten.”

She readily does as she’s told, freeing him from the constraints of her legs around his own hips to lift hers off of the bed, allowing Fenrys to slip his fingers beneath the band of her leggings and tug them off, underwear and all. And again, she is bare beneath him, looking nothing less than a full feast only for him to see and enjoy, to devour and worship. If he wasn’t already kneeling on the bed before her, he’d have fallen onto his knees at the sight of her, he’d have crawled for her and begged her to let him have her just like this, writhing beneath him full of need.

She sits forwards, reaching for him as she hooks her fingers into the laces of his leathers. Each brush of her fingers over the strained leather sends a shock of pain and pleasure over him, if she wraps those hands around him Fenrys may just die from it.

She struggles with the tight laces and growls lowly, “Off.”

Fenrys laughs, taking her wrist in his hands, “So impatient.”

He lifts her left wrist to his lips, kissing her racing pulse before pressing both of her palms to his chest. Her touch lights him on fire, and he takes that touch and guides it across his feverish skin, lower and lower. Her nails lightly drag across the tight muscles of his stomach and Fenrys groans at the slight hurt.

He let’s go of her, leaving her hands pressed to his skin as he easily works open the laces, sighing in relief as the pressure lessens.

“What do you need?” Fenrys asks, halting his movements even if it’s the last thing he wants to do, “Tell me what you need, kitten.”

Her pupils are blown impossibly wide, full of pure lust, “I need you, Fenrys, I need you inside me, now.”

That final word, a demand that he would not fight, could not fight. He’d survived severing the blood oath, but this? This bond between them, this incessant need to have her in every way he could, was so much stronger, would demand more than just his life if he tried to break it, not that he ever would.

Fenrys doesn’t take his time ripping off his leathers, and he nearly comes undone when she moans at the sight of him. He doesn’t have the chance to hesitate, to ask her one last time if this is what she truly wants, before Y/n has he legs wrapped around him, pulling him just like she had when they’d been clothed. Now, there was nothing between them, nothing between the wet heat of her and his aching cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning over her to brace his arms on either side of her, “So ready for me aren’t you, kitten?”

“Yes,” she gasps, “Please Fen-“

She doesn’t have to beg, he cannot deny her, or himself. Fenrys shifts, using one hand to hold his weight while the other wraps around his cock to guide himself to her entrance. She’s so wet, so ready for him, that he barely has to shift his hips forward to sink into her. She wraps around him so perfectly, squeezing down on every inch of him as he slowly settles inside her. He has to grasp for whatever is left of his control to not slam his hips down, to let her adjust to the stretch, to not hurt her. He’s barely holding on by a thread with how fucking good she feels.

“Shit,” Y/n gasps, her head thrown back, her eyes screwed shut.

“Are you okay?” He says it through his teeth, taking deep breaths to steady himself, “Tell me if it hurts.”

Y/n shifts, experimentally rolling her hips, drawing a deep and desperate moan from his lips and a matching one from her own. Nothing had ever felt more perfect, felt this good, not in the one hundred and thirty years he’d been alive.

“Gods,” she gasps, rolling those perfect hips again, “Please, Fen, I need you to move.”

“Thank the fucking gods,” Fenrys groans and does exactly as she asks.

He pulls back, gently rocking back into her, still sane enough to keep his strength in check. Fenrys captures her lips, greedily taking all of the moans and whimpers that he draws from her with each roll of his hips. He also gives her his own desperate sounds, letting her have every single piece of him.

He’s content to go slow, to let her fully adjust, but when she lifts her hips to meet his next stroke, when she pulls away from his kiss to gasp, “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Any shred of chivalry leaves his body, as if there was really any to begin with.

Fenrys growls as he pulls back, simply to snap his hips forward, Y/n cries out with the motion and Fenrys loves the sound of it, so he does it again, and again, and again. She is lost in the pleasure, and so is he, chasing the feeling of her warmth around him with each rough drive of his hips. Her legs clench tightly around him and her hands claw his forearms, her whole body tensing in a way that tells Fenrys she is nearing that peak of pleasure and he wants nothing more than to send her over the edge of it.

He has to pull his arm from her intense grip, not breaking his rhythm as he brings his hand between them to draw his thumb in circles around her sensitive clit.

“Fenrys!”

He grins wildly, “Come for me.”

His demand is met by a mewling whimper and her body shaking with the damn of her orgasm breaking. Fenrys curses as she clenches around him, the feeling so intense that he feels his own release building to that devastating breaking point.

She’s gasping beneath him, her body still trembling with each wave of pleasure that rolls through her in time with his hips. Fenrys is half wild, more fae than anything in that moment, the sight of her beneath him, spent and nearly overstimulated has his hips driving faster, harder. His thumb presses into her again, she jolts and shakes with each pass over the bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” she cries, “I can’t-“

“You can,” he groans, “One more, give me one more.”

He can already feel her muscles tensing again, the ones around his cock clenching almost painfully around him, bringing him closer and closer until he’s holding on by a thread. He needs her to come first, to fall with him, to feel the same intense emotion that is wrapping around his heart and pulling him down the cliffs edge into the terrifying realization that perhaps he’s already fallen.

Y/n cries out as her swift second orgasm tears through her, and Fenrys follows her, cursing as the intense pleasure rips him to shreds and remakes him all at once.

He rides out both of their pleasures, slowly bringing them down from that high until she stops shaking with it. She goes limp beneath him, her legs falling off his waist, to heavy for her to hold up anymore and Fenrys nearly collapses onto her, holding his weight off of her with the last bit of his strength. Her eyes are heavy with exhaustion, her hair a wild mess on the pillow around her, and she is so perfect, so devastatingly beautiful, he wants to have her like this for the rest of their lives.

Mine, his heart beats with the word, and he doesn’t want to hold it back anymore.

Fenrys leans into her, kissing her lips softly, relishing the way she sleepily kisses him back.

“Mine,” he says, claiming her with his mouth and his heart.

She moans against him, and pulls away to gasp, “Mine.”

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