#I also really want to see Feyre take a stand for them keeping her pregnancy debacle from her

[jmoonjones]

"Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man" - Vigilante Shit by @taylorswift

Day 2 of @nestaarcheronweek : Sharp

When I heard this song, I immediately thought of Nesta. Specifically, thinking I wanted to see Nesta take some kind of revenge on the IC for their shitty treatment of her. Her sharp words were scratches compared to how deep the ic cut her with their actions.

Nesta knows - because she's a smart cookie - that living well is the best revenge tho. I'd def pick the Valkyrie-fam over the ic's secrets, baggage, shaming(?), and deference to Rhys ANY DAY.

[azsazz]

Severance

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Idk if you’re taking requests and it’s okay if you aren’t but I was rereading Feysand bonus chapter and it mentions that Feyre’s libido was heightened due to pregnancy and really wanted a fic where we see that with Az and reader bc I LOVE LOVE your daddy!Az fics and it would be funny seeing Az being a dad but also finding time to pleasure his pregnant mate due to hormones that man’s schedule would be jammed pack hahaha

Warnings: Smut, reader is pregnant, light breeding kink.

Word Count: 2061

Notes: This req is literally from a year ago today 😳 now that's some sort of fate (or mad laziness lol) Also, it's been a hot minute since I've written some smut hopefully it's good.

Bat Babies ages in this fic: Wren, Nyx, Gid 8, Baz 6, Zuzu 3, Jax 2, Knox and Malos in the womb.

_________________________________________

“Wren,” you sigh exasperatedly at your eight year old, “Please go play with your siblings. Mommy just needs a few minutes to herself.” 

It’s hard to keep your tone cool and level while your core is burning, dripping for the mate who’s stepped into the shadows whilst you bargain with your son. The both of you had snuck off for a few quick kisses that turned into something more, and it’s the first time you’ve had any time to yourselves in weeks. You don’t know if it’s being pregnant with two babies this time around making every single one of your senses heightened, but you don’t recall being this horny for your mate during your first four pregnancies.

Oh, you were insatiable, sweetheart, your mate purrs in your mind. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him not only from the bond tethering you, but from where he stands, five feet away and shrouded in darkness. And I loved every moment of it. You did too, of course.

You shut your eyes for a long second so your oldest son doesn’t catch you rolling them. I would love for you to remind me of just how much I loved it, mate, you send back, letting your frustrated desperation cling to your words, if we can ever seem to find the time.

Last week, Zuzu refused to go to Feyre’s painting class even though all of the other cousins were going in for a private session the High Lady had set up specifically so that you and your mate could spend the night alone together. She spent the entire time latched to Azriel’s leg and crying her little eyes out until the both of you gave in and let your daughter stay home. Your only saving grace that night was getting to lounge on the couch with a good book—that really only made you hornier for your mate—whilst Azriel and Zuzu baked cookies in the kitchen and hand delivered them to you with a large glass of milk.

A few days ago, it was Baz who had trouble sleeping and came pounding at your door while your mate was three fingers deep into your sopping cunt. The both of you had hastily gotten dressed, grumbling the entire time you did so, and let your second oldest son into the room. Azriel swiftly avoided Baz’s questioning about why your door had been locked in the first place, and the both of you watched him crawl up onto your bed and settle in the center of the tangled sheets, looking at the both of you expectantly. Baz talked your ears off all night long. 

And it was only last night when Jax who couldn’t be consoled when he couldn’t find his stuffed Suriel for bedtime. Azriel spent an hour scouring your house for the toy while you held Jax close, trying to keep your own emotions calm and serene instead of the frustration you wanted to give into, lest your son pick up on them and dampen his mood further. Even with his keen spymaster abilities and the shadows he’d released to help the cause, Azriel came up empty.

With four young children and twins on the way, it seemed as though they always knew the perfect time to interrupt you and your mate every time you tried to get close to each other. 

Wren frowns, his head falling back on his shoulders as he stares up at you with those hazel eyes that are a gift from his father. They’re pleading, and he really wants to have that sleepover with Gideon and Nyx, but you’ve never been a sucker for those pleading looks. If Wren thinks that huffing and puffing and making sad faces is going to change your mind, he came to the wrong parent.

Especially since he’s interrupted your fun as well.

You tap your foot, waiting your son out. He stares, and you stare back. You even cross your arms over your chest, resting them over the swollenness of your stomach, nearly two-thirds of the way through your pregnancy.

Your body goes taut at the feeling that Azriel lets zip down the bond. It’s one of complete arousal, his obsession with you when you make that stern face. 

It takes all of your willpower not to shift on your feet with the rush of wetness that accompanies the feeling of heat rushing through your veins. Not to clench your thighs together or glance over to where your mate stands, probably staring at you with his hazel eyes, filled with need.

Not that you’d be able to see him in the darkness anyway.

Wren’s pleading draws your attention away from your desires and back to the matter at hand.

“Please, mom!”

Clearing your throat so that it doesn’t falter when you speak, you answer. “You may have a sleepover with Nyx and Gideon tomorrow night if you're a good boy tonight. And that means playing with your siblings for a few minutes until I come to take Jax and Zuz for their baths.”

You’re pretty sure you lost your eldest son when you agreed to the sleepover, and you nearly stumble when he throws himself at you, hugging you tight. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Wren screeches with excitement, and your heart grows when he places a fleeting kiss to your stomach and bolts from the room. You can hear him tearing down the halls to where Baz is loudly making the toys in the living room speak. 

“Sweetheart, are you crying?” Azriel’s voice startles you. No longer is he hiding in the shadows, but at your side, swiping a calloused thumb across your cheek, swiping away the wetness.

“He’s just so sweet,” you gush, leaning into your mate’s arms. You press your ear to his chest, listening to the steady and strong thumping of his heart. You love this man and everything that you’ve built together. Through all of the missions and worrying, to building a home and family together, you truly are grateful for the life that you live.

“You know what else is sweet?” Azriel says, his suggestive whisper caressing the shell of your ear. It causes you to shiver, fingers curling into his shirt as he pulls you closer, lifting you easily into his arms.

“What?” you answer breathlessly, already losing yourself to your mate’s touch again. Namely, his thick cock brushing against your cunt with each step closer to the desk in the office he takes.

You don’t even have to worry about the kids right now. You can fall into the bliss you’ve been so desperately trying to find for the past week, because you noted how Azriel’s shadows trailed your son from the room, at least one always with every child at all times of the day.

“You.” His lips slant over yours, his tongue parting your lips with ease. You meet him halfway, licking, tasting your way as his hands hike up the skirts of your dress and pull your panties to the side as soon as your ass hits the edge of the wooden desk. “Tell me what you need, mate.”

There isn’t time for foreplay, for teasing nips of teeth against your hardened nipples. They’re rubbing against the fabric of your dress just fine. No time for orgasms by his hands, his tongue. You’d hardly be able to enjoy the view of Azriel on his knees for you with the size of your bump.

“Your cock,” you whimper, trying desperately to keep your voice low.

You shudder against the fingers he drags across your cunt, swiping through your slick. You’re ready, more than. You need him right this instant.

Azriel swallows the plea you’re about to release, enjoying the way you tug on his hair as a way to reprimand him. It has him grinning into the kiss, his fingers quickly fumbling with his belt because he’s just as desperate as you are, having not nearly been near you—or in you—enough in the past few weeks. 

Your pesky children are always interrupting.

“Your wish is my command,” he answers easily, and your back arches as he rubs the head of his cock across your sopping heat.

Azriel almost snarls with pleasure at the sight of your bump pressing sky-high. He leans in closer, loving the feeling of the three of you close. You’re so fucking beautiful, and there’s something special about how you look swollen with his child, something the both of you made.

He’s seen it four times over by now, and it never gets fucking old. He’ll keep you good and pregnant until you tell him you don’t want any more children.

And he loves the way you writhe against him, hook your legs around his waist, trying to force him closer, your cunt greedily trying to suck his cock deep into your womb. Loves the way your nails pinch into his shoulders, the way your teeth latch onto his lip to keep quiet when he pushes into you in one fell swoop. 

There’s a burst of blood on his tongue but Azriel loves it, quickly pulling out and pressing back in so that you’ll bite him again. When you come down from your high, you’ll apologize profusely, but he doesn’t care, likes a bit of pain with his pleasure. 

He’ll revel in the redness of your cheeks when your children ask him what happened to him later, though.

“Azriel,” you cry, clutching onto your mate for dear life. You love the feeling of his thick cock stretching you, the gushing between your legs when he so easily finds that spot that has you cumming within seconds like some whore. He knows that you need this release, that the both of you need to be quick and quiet with your fucking. Your children can only be occupied for so long.

“I’ll make sure Cassian or Rhys can take the children tomorrow,” Azriel promises against your mouth, smothering the sounds you make for him. He’s just as desperate to hear you scream, the reminder of it has heat pooling in his core, his pace quickening. “Then, you can scream as loud as you want, mate, all night long.”

A second orgasm washes over you like a wave. Azriel didn’t even have to stick his hands between the both of you, but he is now, wanting one more before he releases himself. It’s brewing quickly, and he circles his fingers over your clit, skilled and an expert at everything that has to do with you.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You beg, hips rolling to meet his. Azriel groans into your neck, sucking harshly and laving his tongue over the hurt.

“I’m going to cum,” he pants harshly, straightening to his full height to look down at you in all of your sexed-out glory. The way you can barely keep yourself braced against the desk, the way your mouth is parted in that perfect shape that almost makes him want to pull out and stick his cock down your throat instead. The way that your eyes are rolled so far into the back of your head that you can see the bond connecting the both of you, completely overcome with desire.

You keen your agreement, words jumbled as he takes you to your peak again, the both of you shuddering with pleasure as your orgasms overcome you. 

He rubs you through your pleasure, rocking his hips slowly as he empties himself deeply inside of you. If you weren’t  already pregnant, Azriel’s sure you would be now, with how much cum he’s pumping inside of you.

Your mate hugs you close, rubbing your back until you come down from your high. 

You lean back, blinking up at him blearily, and it makes Azriel want to take you all over again.

“Is that a promise, mate?” You ask, referring to him making sure that all of your children will be away at their aunts and uncles tomorrow night, leaving the both of you to yourselves. Well, plus the two in your uterus.

Azriel hums, finally pulling out of you. You gasp at the loss but his fingers are there, stuffing the leaking cum back into your cunt. You’re not sure your legs can support you right now, but they don’t need to, because you’re already rearing for another round. 

“It’s a promise, sweetheart.”

[ialwaysgobacktoit]

Time to rest your weary head: Part 13!

IT TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH, but it is here!!! As I explained before, I was facing the last weeks of my semester, delivering final papers and such, but now I'm freee!!!! I thank you all for your patience and eternal support, really <3 hope you like this one! :)))

Also tagging some of my beautiful readers <3 @madie2200 @katiebellf @starbornsinger

Last thing: I wanna leave here my praise to all fic writers and fanfiction and headcanons I had the pleasure of reading on this website; you all inspire me so much, and I’m glad to say I am a part of such a beautiful net of sharing and reading other’s stories :) you are awesome and you inspire me to keep on writing! Thank you :)

Check out the Chapter List and Part 12 if you haven't read it yet!

It was late, but Azriel didn’t mind. He felt like he could explode: like all of a sudden, all his life made much more sense.

He had a mate.

That mate was Gwyn.

And Gwyn had kissed him.

As he jumped off the balcony at the House of Wind, diving fast before soaring, he couldn’t contain his grin. His heart hadn’t stopped thundering in his chest ever since he got to her door. They kissed, and he sensed her affection and desire as sure as she had felt his. He held her in his arms, just like he had that night all those weeks ago. And he had missed so badly doing so, he realized the second he felt her hand on his cheek, caressing him in a way no one ever had, before she enlaced her arms behind his neck.

He felt like a teenager, his Ilyrian hormones pumping through his body, making him restless and euphoric. He wanted so bad to go back, to just stay with her, to make up any excuse to see her, to wake her up, to lay down with her. To spend every second he had right next to her, learning all the different ways he could make her glow.

For so long, he deemed himself worthless; tainted and scarred and damaged. But now he could see that perhaps that wasn’t true. He was hurt, but he could heal; everyone had a past, and it shouldn’t prevent them from living their present. And Gwyn… She was the reason he started believing that. That he had hope left, and that maybe…. Maybe he could care about himself just like others cared about him.

It took a second to realize he was crying. Alone, just him and his shadows, as he soared and spun across the night sky, he was crying. Sobbing and laughing uncontrollably at the same time. He breathed in and out, trying to calm his racing heart, but he still let the tears flow; he still kept smiling, the image of Gwyn’s face never fading from his mind.

Feeling the cold wind across his face, he landed on the pathway to the River House. It was all dark, but he could see a dim light from one of the windows. Rhys’s study.

Rhys. He lowered his mental shields enough so he could voice his brother’s name. Are you there?

Silence, before Rhys’s voice sounded. Yes. Are you alright?

I need to talk to you. May I come in?

He heard footsteps approaching the front door, and then Rhysand was staring at him, violet eyes dark in the dim light. “Come in, brother.”

He was greeted by the image of Nesta facing him, that huge portrait that Feyre had painted some time ago, after The Blood Rite. The house was silent, and all he could hear was his steps as he followed Rhysand to his study.

When he closed the door, Rhysand had just sat down at his armchair.

“Are Feyre and Nyx asleep?”

“Fortunately. The kid’s been having some trouble sleeping these last few months, therefore so have we.” He snorted, but smiled fondly at the thought of his family. “Sit down, Az.”

He obliged, and felt the way Rhys sized him up, trying to decipher what was going on with him. And although Azriel’s expression yielded nothing, he didn’t make an effort to wipe away his tears from before; so his brother was probably putting up the pieces together by now.

Azriel didn’t leave enough time for him to do so, as he again talked to him mentally.

Gwyn is my mate. But I reckon you already know that.

I do. I suppose it didn’t go well, then.

And Cauldron-damn him if he didn’t start laughing at that. And not a bitter one, but a true, genuine chuckle that made Rhys’s brows shot up and a bemused smile appeared on his face.

“It went more than well, actually.” Azriel corrected, shaking his head as he looked to the ground, still smiling. “And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” His brother shifted in his seat, resting his elbows in his knees and interlocking his fingers.

So Azriel explained what Rhys needed to do for them. He honestly didn’t care if his family knew or not about their mating bond, but was well aware Gwyn might need some time to adjust – and the required privacy to do so. And that was fine with him; as long as he was able to spend time with her, he’d be happy. In any way she wanted.

When he was finished, they stood in silence for a couple of seconds.

“So, I see you have your shot at happiness in your hands at last, brother.” Rhysand stated, with a knowing smile on his face.

“I do.”

“She was very good at refraining from telling you. Of course, I didn’t mean to pry when I found out. But do you know why I read her thoughts that night?”

Azriel shook his head, and watched as his brother declared with a low tone.

“She was just sitting there, in a midst of people whom she didn’t have familiarity with, and you were by your usual spot, talking to Mor. And she was just staring at you, eyes full of an emotion I couldn’t decipher, but I knew what that gesture meant. She couldn’t keep herself from looking at you, just as you couldn’t stop from glancing at her time and time again during the evening: like you were drawn to each other. I was going to ask her if she needed to talk about it, though I knew it was none of my business and she was unlikely to do so, but then I read her thoughts about you being mates.”

“That’s why I didn’t meddle in. I was witnessing something way bigger than me, and I think you know what I mean.” He finished, and completed “That’s why I - and Feyre - kept quiet about it.”

All Azriel could do was laugh quietly again at the mention of his High Lady. “Of course she’d know.”

“My dear brother, I learned by experience you shouldn’t keep things from your mate, even if it is to protect them. You're supposed to walk through it together.” Regret crossed Rhysand’s face at that confession.

Azriel knew that although his brother claimed to hide the details of Feyre’s pregnancy from her not to worry her, it wasn’t exactly fair all the same.

“But I’m certain you’ll learn that with time.” He completed, leaning over to pat Azriel on his knee. “So, don’t worry. I will do as you ask.”

Azriel nodded his thanks and stood up, meaning to leave. But, just as he was reaching the door, a thought occurred and he turned again to his High Lord.

“Rhys” He kept sitting on his chair, staring at him expectantly “It took me long enough to realize, but I’m glad you stopped me that Solstice night.”

Rhysand let out a soft chuckle at that, and bowed his head slightly, raising his glass. Knowing well what Azriel had meant with that.

****

His shadows were restless. He barely slept during the rest of the evening, his mind too awake to give in to slumber. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was slightly nervous to see Gwyn again – and to see if they’re new acknowledged bond would stand out or if Rhysand’s spell would work. He wouldn’t doubt of his High Lord and brother, but still. He wanted to see it for himself.

He stood in the training ring ever since sunrise. Gwyn had gone to her usual morning service and he hadn’t seen her, only felt her absence in the House, both an effect from the mating bond and his shadows, since they were so eager to be around her. So he sparred for hours, waiting for the moment training began and he would see her again.

The priestesses started to arrive right about the time Cassian showed up.

“Morning, brother”

Azriel nodded back, and turned to arrange the practice swords and shields into place, preparing the room.

“How was last night?”

He could sense Cassian’s presence behind him, and the innuendo in his sly tone. Gwyn’s image appeared in his mind once again, her burgundy dress complimenting her body’s every feature. He could feel her in his arms, their proximity and heat, the way he kissed her with all need and tenderness he ever felt towards her, the small sound she made when he pulled her close, pressing their bodies together… He was cut short from his thoughts when Cassian cleared his throat, suppressing a laugh.

“I can scent everything went well, then.”

Fuck.

He started thinking about other things, anything at all, to cover his desiring scent. It wasn’t professional nor respectful to appear that way in front of the Priestesses, even though Cassian and Nesta didn’t seem to mind covering their own arousal multiple times during all these months.

It was right at that moment Cassian’s mate and Gwyn arrived, their voices filling up the air. Azriel was still with his back to the door, and counted a total of five seconds before turning around and facing the deep teal ocean that were Gwyn’s eyes.

Like the seas in Reyna.

His shadows whispered one of Summer Court’s many beaches, the quietest, most isolated and beautiful one. Azriel felt a subtle need to take her there someday, to travel around Prythian with her, to watch her explore and discover the continent, her face lighting up with each new sight.

He casually approached the two females, who were still talking while they began their stretching on the mats.

“Good morning.” He let out, dipping his head a bit.

“Hello.” Gwyn greeted back, meeting his eyes. He watched as she breathed, noticing every detail of her exposed neck and freckled cheeks before meeting her eyes. It was a monumental effort to not scan her entire body and take in all of her curves. She seemed to notice that, and with a thrilling sensation he watched her face blush.

“Good morning to you too, Azriel” Nesta mocked, interrupting their charged silence. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

She directed this particular question to both of them. Gwyn finally tore her eyes away from Azriel, doing nothing to conceal her flushed cheeks.

“Yes.” She nodded a bit timidly, biting down her lip to keep her from smiling further, and met her friend’s inquisitive stare with a sparkle that almost sent Azriel to his knees.

Damn. That female would be the death of him.

“We did indeed.” Azriel found himself agreeing, his voice rough all of a sudden. His shadows reached towards Gwyn, desperately trying to turn her attention to him, to them. He wanted to be lost in those teal eyes again, to be alone with her.

“I’m glad to hear that, Gwyn.” Nesta smiled kindly to Gwyn, honesty and pride in her tone. “Although you’re aware you’ll have to give me more details later.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, continuing her warm-up exercises while Nesta stood up. As she went on to stretch her thigh, holding it behind her back, she leaned on Azriel, placing one hand on his shoulder to steady herself and taking advantage of the situation by voicing quietly:

“You hurt my sister and I’ll make you regret it, Spymaster.”

His shadows protectively wrapped around his shoulders, but he was well accustomed to Nesta and they had developed a great friendship after all those months. He could always understand and read through her pain and aggressiveness, even when others didn’t. He did believe her words, though. She, pretty much like him, would do anything to protect the ones she loved.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He nodded once, staring into her piercing eyes, and she patted his shoulder once, seeming satisfied with his answer, before pushing back and striding towards Cassian.

Gwyn kept stretching on the floor, but he could see she heard everything they said by her amused smile as she watched her friend walking away. Azriel reached his hand towards her, and she faced him again and grabbed it, helping herself up.

They were standing face to face now, hands still intertwined. He could hear Cassian and Nesta organizing the Priestesses in the background, the rustle of robes and training leathers as they moved across the training ring. But he couldn’t care less, not when he was holding his mate’s hand, face mere inches from hers.

“It seems you just got intimated by Nesta, huh?” She teased.

He shrugged: “It’s nothing to which I’m not used to by now.”

She chuckled, her eyes crinkling and her voice a sweet melody to his ears. He couldn’t stop but join her, with a quiet laugh. He could feel both Cassian and Nesta’s stare on them, observing their every move. It didn’t seem like the couple caught up on the scent of their mating bond, even though that faint chill mist mixed with water lilies, the combination of him and her, was currently inebriating his senses.

“Could we see each other later today?” Gwyn surprised him by asking, her big bright eyes waiting expectantly for him to answer.

She took a sudden breath, like she was trying to capture the new scent they shared as well, and Azriel found his lips blooming into a smile, both at the thought and at the request:

“I’d love to.”

She beamed “You can meet me at the library, if you are free.”

Gods, she was stunning. He couldn’t stop counting her freckles, observing the way her ponytail twirled behind her back, marveling at how warm her hand felt against his. What a strange and powerful feeling, he thought; to miss someone with that intensity, to desire more than anything to be close to them at all times.

And Azriel wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’ll be there.”

***

And so he went. After successfully ignoring most of Cassian and Nesta’s teasing remarks through training and lunch, none of them, however, related to the mating bond, Azriel found himself heading towards the library.

He was greeted by Clotho as soon as he entered the space, her magic pen already moving.

Good afternoon, Azriel. What can I do for you?

“I’m looking for Gwyn.” He cordially bowed his head to the Priestess.

Do you want me to call her?

“Thank you, but there is no need. If you could just tell me in which section she is I’ll meet her there, if that’s ok.”

“Ancient hymns and rituals”, third floor down to the right. You’ll find her.

He swore something about the way that magic pen swirled at the last sentence had a tinge of cheekiness, mischief even. So he gave Clotho a soft smile and went into the depths of the library, descending the stars and carefully avoiding staring directly at any Priestess that walked by, only greeting quietly the ones he knew from training.

As usual, his shadows kept swirling faster and faster with each step closer to Gwyn, excited at the prospect of being alone with her. Well, not alone entirely, but Azriel didn’t particularly care at the moment. He knew the curious eyes directed at them would be much more discreet than the ones at training – or anywhere else, for a matter of fact.

He could hear her before he saw her, humming softly as she labeled and stored a few books back on their spots. His heart thrummed against his chest, and he leaned on a shelf across from where she stood, still absorbed in her task, humming the same sweet melody over and over again.

Before he managed to say anything, one of his shadows darted to touch her hand, and her eyes lifted from the book she was holding and met his, her mouth quirked to the side.

“How long have you been there?” She put down the book and crossed her arms in front of her chest, lifting an eyebrow.

His shadows had encapsulated her shoulders and hair now, in a way that she seemed to be the Shadowsinger, and not him. He commanded them to get back to their places, but in vain. He honestly didn’t know why he even tried anymore.

“Not long.” He finally pushed away from his place by the shelf and stepped towards her, while she did the same.

He grabbed her hand, his thumb feeling her soft skin. His shadows encircled them both now, creating a dark cloud in an already dim-lit room. Gwyn laughed at them; curiously following their patterns with her eyes, hand still intertwined with his.

“They never did that before, with anyone.” Azriel observed the way his shadows expanded and darkened around and above them.

“Well, as you said before, they like me. If I were you, I’d be worried they might run away and come to me. I wouldn’t mind at all. Curious little things.”

When he faced her again she was staring at him with such intent he drew a ragged breath, mind focusing only on the female before him. The poor lighting of this particular hallway made her eyes darken, her pupils dilate, mouth slightly parted. Her copper hair now a shade of deep red, like molten fire. He just wanted to kiss each and every one of her freckles, from her face to her neck and below.

The thought made his body ache for her, his pants growing uncomfortably tight. He breathed deep, once, twice, in order to calm his mind and thoughts, but was cut short when her lips met his.

His arms instantly found their way to her hips, gripping her gently. She tugged her hands in his hair, pressing herself against him as the kiss deepened, her lips parting wider to give him access. He enlaced one arm around her, keeping her close and placing his other hand in the back of her neck. He could hear a song, an ancient melody spreading from them, an array of strings and choirs.

When they parted at last, her eyes were wide.

“Did you hear that?” She whispered as they breathed in each other’s scent. Her hands were still on his hair, and he couldn’t take his hands off her just yet, placing them steadily on her hips once again.

He nodded, smiling, and she laughed silently before continuing: “It was magical.”

He leaned to kiss her once again, stopping for a brief second and silently asking for her permission to continue. She closed her eyes, lifting her face, and a soft sigh escaped her lips when they met his for the second time. It was softer this time, tender. Azriel didn’t know if something could ever feel better than this, than having his mate in his arms; than having Gwyn in his arms.

When they parted, he rested his forehead on hers, their breaths mingling. The scent of their mating bond stronger this time, only enough for them to sense it.

“Do you think they could feel it today?” Gwyn seemed to read his mind. “Our scent.”

He met her ocean eyes and shook his head: “Well, Nesta has a sharp mind, and Cassian knows me my entire life. They definitely suspect something.” He huffed a laugh “But not relating to the bond. They probably think is a crush thing.”

She laughed at him, teasingly: “Is it, Shadowsinger? A crush thing?”

“It’s so much more and you know it, Berdara.” He answered in the same tone, but he knew by the way she swallowed once that she heard the husk in his voice, sensing the promise in his words.

Someone is near. Priestesses.

His shadows curled around his ear and he retreated a step, just enough to allow a casual distance between them. Gwyn turned her head to the sound of robes shuffling by, and looked at him again. “Care to join me?” She offered, nodding towards the cart with a loving smile.

“Gladly.”

They fell into a comfortable routine after Gwyn taught him how to shelve the books she cataloged and labeled; sometimes she hummed or sang something to herself, and it was usually at those times when he paused what he was doing, bewitched by her voice. Even the movements of the other Priestesses seemed to still when Gwyn sang, the whole world going quiet. Usually, though, she noticed the subtle halt in his movements after a few moments, and interrupted herself by laughing at his reaction.

If Azriel could exchange the work he did as a Spymaster to just label and store books with Gwyn the whole afternoon, he would. Even if he knew the importance of his work, he would trade everything in a heartbeat just to be with her. Or perhaps he really needed a break.

There was a time in which he thought his spying to be the only thing that he was meant to do. And there was so much in it that he disliked: the torture, the gore. But maybe… Maybe it was time for him to start making some changes. For his sake, and the ones he loved.

“What are you thinking about?”

Her quiet voice distracted him from his thoughts. He shook his head, shelving another book, and turned to her, finding her kind eyes staring straight back at him. “It’s nothing.”

“Az.” Gwyn reached for him, holding his hand in hers “You know you can tell me.”

“It’s just” He gazed at their joint hands and sighed “I did such bad things in the past, and have been doing it for so long… I'm tired of it.”

She lifted a hand and brushed her fingers against his skin, meeting his stare. “You did a lot of great things too, Azriel. Like helping your friends, your family, your people… And me.” She smiled, reassuringly. “You were the one who saved me that night all those nights ago, and then helped me stand up back on my feet every morning after it. You helped me become who I am today.”

Her tenderness broke him, touched a place inside him he was just starting to realize he had, and he took a deep breath before he took her hands in his, lifting them to meet his lips. The only possible reaction he could have to all that gentleness without allowing tears to fall; and he prayed to the Mother it could convey everything he felt.

The way Gwyn smiled and leaned in to softly kiss his cheek gave him his answer.

[fktonofwhatnow]

ok hold on. acomaf is my fave book out of the whole series (it's mostly out of emotional value, i read it when i was younger and didn't have a real understanding out trauma and abuse only that i saw a character i loved getting out of a bad situation and getting happy) so obviously i didn't mind feysand being endgame and the development all of the characters had. i can accept tamlin turned out like that is realistic due to his trauma, i can accept feyre had to flee because it wasn't right for her, but the thing is after acofs i see no point to feyre leaving tamlin when rhysand ends up doing everything they told us tamlin was evil and unredeemable for. hiding the risks of her pregnancy, putting on shields on her, having feyre need to compromise over it. i honestly felt so betrayed by that. i'm not saying feyre and tamlin were good for each other, but it doesn't feel worth it to dismiss the potential they had for what we got with feysand.

also, sarah learn to treat "ugly" trauma with respect challenge. no they don't need to learn to physically fight to fight it. no they don't need a love interest to overcome it. yes the behaviors acquired from trauma and abuse aren't pretty but that doesn't mean a person is undeserving of kindness and compassion.

i think i had a point somewhere but i can't get to it. so hope you don't mind my rambling. anyway i loved your meta about tamlin i think he deserves better too

HOLY SHIT THIS ONE IS SO GOOD OK IM SO EXCITED

Bro you are so fine, I'm the one who doesn't make any sense and I totally get what you're trying to say. (Acomaf was actually my favorite book in the series too ngl)

BUT FUCK YEAH LETS TALK ABOUT RHYSAND.

I don't think it's a secret that Rhysand is one of my least favorite characters in media, probably ever? (How do I even put this into words) He is a bad character and to me, laughably so. You know how if you've ever written a character, there's that little phase that's like "what if people don't like this character' and then you're sad for a little bit? That's how Rhysand feels to me. He feels like SJM looked at this character and thought "I can't stand the thought of people not liking this character because I love him so much" and then did everything in her power to make sure we know how great he is.

Idk if this is just me screaming into the void, but I get to this place with my characters where like, especially if they are a little more morally gray or their decisions have negative impacts, I understand that I don't need the audience to like my main character. they can stand on their own, they can own up to what they do and they can grow from it. Thats what a good character does. That's how you keep your audience rooting for them. You gotta knock them over sometimes.

SJm doesn't knock Rhysand over. She doesn't push him to make mistakes, apologize, own up and move on. Rhysand has never made a decision that ended poorly for him. Everything goes the way he wants it to, because SJm wants us to know how cool and great he is. People who are cool and great don't make bad decisions! SJm doesn't let Rhysand fail, and she doesn't let him suffer his own decisions. Everyone else suffers his decisions, not him.

Rhysand's reputation as a good person hinges entirely on the audience liking him and/or thinking he's hot. And then what happens when the audience thinks neither of those things? Ya get a rly long post like this by a lil enby who is mad all the time. Rhysand loses all credibility when you look at him through a critical lens. Not a single thing the man does makes any goddamn sense. Here I thought acosf would give us a different perspective on Feysand and I was desperately hoping that Nesta would tell us what she really sees in them and how people around them really feel, I hoped that SjM would throw us for a loop and tell us that hey, she does know that Feysand are fucking toxic as hell and ruin the lives of people around them and she wants to show us that from an outside perspective but noooOoOOOoOoOOOO...

Instead we get Nesta hating herself because Rhysand told her that she shouldn't tell Feyre that Feyre could uh die in childbirth. Hey what the fuck.

Now I don't actually ship feylin, I kinda always sorta knew, even without spoilers, that it wasn't going to work out. Tamlin isn't sjm's idea of a good partner because he's not charming and witty and dark and handsome ya know? We met Rhysand and I knew that I was going to fucking hate this romance. Which sucks because I found Rhysand so intriguing in the first book. Ngl all the time spent in the spring court was kinda boring and every time Rhysand showed up to throw dead faeries at Tamlin I was like "oooooo" and I wanted to know more about why Tamlin, this awkward, blunt and kinda shy dude had beef with this super duper sly and shady man from another court.

I don't know if I've ever said this before, but SJm doesn't let her love interests grow. Rhysand doesn't change over the course of the story because he was already a good guy and his motives were for Feyre's sake I swear, the same goes for Rowan in TOG. SJm doesn't give Rhysand room to change. She needs to get to the part where they fuck make sure everyone knows that Rhysand is a good guy and actually he was good all along so that we like him more than Tamlin. It backtracks on everything bad Rhysand has ever done because you know... He had a good reason! It's fine!

I know it's probably just because SJm doesn't actually know how to write a good character growth arc but... Like can you imagine if Rhysand stayed the bad guy? Or at least remained the bad guy through acotar and acomaf? And then when Rhysand comes to take Feyre for his bargain it really was only to spite Tamlin? What about Rhysand, taking Feyre to the night court with him once a week every month for a long time, if only to see Tamlin's eyes grow darker and emptier every time he goes, and then he really starts to fall in love with Feyre. He's been a monster all this time, angry and cold and cruel and then he actually starts to fall in love. And then to get Feyre to stay he really does try to change, he stops antagonizing Feyre, he stops throwing dead faeries at Tamlin, and he stops harassing the Spring court. He starts spending genuine quality time with Feyre, he starts to learn about her and all the things she likes and he stops trying to get her to come with him just so Tamlin will be mad. He starts asking her to come with him because he wants to be around her and he prays that someday she'll want to be around him too. What if SJm let him grow.

But nahhhhhh instead we have a character who always knows the right answer to things, and he always knows how to fix every issue, and he is always so innovative and outside the box except that he isn't. We get a character who does the same shit as Tamlin but it's ok because he had a good reason not to tell Feyre that she could very well die in childbirth. Uhhhh don't know what that is but uhhh I know he has his reasons because all he has are his reasons.

It would be so easy to hold a mirror up to Rhysand and say "look at this. Look who you are. Do you not look just like Tamlin right now?"

But nooooooooOoOOOo Rhysand doesn't get to be wrong. Rhysand doesn't get to look like Tamlin because Tamlin is evil and Rhysand is definitely NOT I SWEAR.

But yeah I think the point I'm trying to make is that Sarah thinks so highly of Rhysand that he could never do wrong. He could never be like Tamlin, despite the narrative literally telling us the exact opposite.

Like you said, we lost the potential of what feylin could have been if SJm didn't suddenly decide that her audience needs to love Rhysand as much as she does. I think feylin could have been slow and sweet and a story of true healing and learning about one another. I think it would have been kind and steady and lots of "are you ok"s and "I'm sorry"s and "talk to me"s. Everything about Feysand feels rushed and hard and fast and the rest of the world doesn't have time to catch up. It's fucking exhausting to read it ya know what I'm saying.

(also can we talk about Rhysand like dying and Feyre finding the suriel and learning he's her mate and then instead of being like "k let's put a pin in that and fuckin save his life first" she like throws him around and everyone is like "wtf woman" and she's like I neeD tO Be alOnE these people have no idea how to prioritize)

Truly, I think it's innocent to a degree. There is absolutely no harm in wanting people to like your character. The harm comes when you destroy another character with no reason or explanation other than you want people to like a different character. Villain arc? Completely out of left field. You gotta build to that shit or like... Make it so that when you look back you slap your forehead and yell at a wall "OF FUCKING COURSE I SHOULD HAVE SEEN IT"

anyways, SJm treat "ugly" trauma with respect challenge SECONDED.

WELL IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME WEEKS YO WRITE IM HAVING A HARD TIME I know it probably doesn't make any sense I can't find my braincells BUT thanks for the ask @xelly

Tell me all your acotar things I love yo hear them !!

[readiajin]

To Love Herself - Chapter 3: Hello

Synopsis: Following ACOSF until Nesta’s confrontation with Amren. Rather than going to hike and soul search with Cassian in the wild, Nesta uses her powers to disappear.

Masterlist

Chapter 3: Hello

Nesta - After Disappear

“Who the hell are you?”

Nesta jumped to her feet and whirled around. 

A woman stood a couple yards away. No, not a woman, a High Fae. The female had dark skin and her tightly braided hair was pulled back, revealing her pointed ears. Despite her ears marking her as High Fae, Nesta couldn’t help comparing her to the Illyarians. She wore fighting leathers somewhat similar to theirs, and they were form fitting around the muscles of her torso and arms. A bow and quiver were slung over her back, with a sword sheathed at her side. 

Nesta froze as she silently cursed herself for not having any weapons of her own. She had no idea how she had used her magic before and had very little faith in it if the female decided to attack. She however, had her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised at Nesta as she slowly looked her over. 

“Do you speak? I asked who you are and what you are doing here.”

The arrogance in the female’s voice made Nesta grind her teeth but also stand straight and lift her chin. 

“You didn’t actually.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You didn’t ask what I was doing here before. You only asked who I was.”

The female tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at Nesta. “You know I don’t think you are in a position to have so much attitude.”

Despite Nesta’s rapidly beating heart, she forced her face to be impassive as she gave a dry smile. “Funny, I was about to tell you the same thing.”

Nesta wasn’t sure how she expected the female to react, but to burst out laughing wasn’t it. Her laugh was high pitched and infectiously jovial. At least it would have been if it wasn’t at Nesta’s expense. Nesta felt heat rush to her face but retained her still exterior as the female leaned over her knees while attempting to catch her breath. 

When she finally calmed down enough to wipe tears from her eyes she took in Nesta again, her face softer than before. 

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but you’ve surprised me.” 

Nesta had no idea what that meant, but she bit back, “You haven’t surprised me.” 

The female snorted. “Nevertheless, if you want to live you should probably come with me.”

Taken aback, it took Nesta a moment to respond, “I don’t need your help nor will I go anywhere with you. Turn around and go back to wherever you came from.” 

The female rolled her eyes. “Mother, you are a piece of work, aren’t you? We both know that you didn’t intend to come here or even know where here is. If you want food and shelter and help you will come with me, Nesta.” 

Nesta stepped back at her name, trying to call to magic for help but it was silent. “How do you know my name?”

The female’s lips curved it into a tight smile, but she simply shrugged and turned away. “Welcome to the Forest of the Lost,” she said over her shoulder before heading to disappear between the trees. 

Part of Nesta told her to let the female go, but another part screamed at her to get answers. 

“Wait!” The female stopped. “Tell me your name if you want me to follow.”

The female turned back slowly, a mischievous look in her eyes.

“I’m Thalia. Now keep up.”

•••••

Cassian - After Appear

The Obsidian Isles were named so for the smooth rocks that made up the beaches instead of sand. Flying towards them from above, they looked like dark slashes dividing the rough sea and dense evergreen forests of the Isles. 

Cassian glanced at Feyre flying to his right, trying to be calm as he flew towards his heaven and his hell. It had been decided that only Cassian, Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel would go to meet Nesta. Elain had made her feelings clear, and no one explicitly had said it, but it was understood that it is probably better to keep Mor and Amren far away from Nesta. 

They had sent Azriel to scout ahead as usual, but the Northern Island and the rest of the Isles were all free of Fae. Azriel could find no evidence that anyone had even visited recently, or where exactly they were expected to meet Nesta. 

So now they flew towards the dark beaches, all four of them on high alert. 

They landed in the center and examined the tree line. “Anything?” Rhys asked Azriel. 

Az shook his head. “Place seems as abandoned and cursed as usual.”

Besides from their location in the cold and gray north, the soil of the Isles were fertile, and the surrounding waters prime fishing. Despite that, no Fae settlement had ever lasted. Stories of tragedies befalling any settlement were plentiful, from lighting burning down a half built cabin to an entire colony disappearing. This fact had been pointed out repeatedly by Mor as she argued with him and Feyre to not be stupid by coming here. 

Cassian wasn’t worried, as there had never been any tragedy for someone visiting the islands. Even if there was a curse, Cassian would settle down to stay here if Nesta asked him too. 

Stupid. Cassian’s logical voice chided him. He couldn’t let his emotions influence him right now. He was still angry with his family for their mistrust of Nesta, but he also needed to think as the General he was. Nesta had managed to get into Velaris without anyone knowing, at least twice. How many times had she gone there besides the two times they knew about? Cassian didn’t want to consider she had been so close without him knowing while he worried about her, but he knew now not to make assumptions. 

“Should we go into the trees and look for her?” Feyre asked as the beach remained empty. 

“No,” Rhys replied. “We shouldn’t risk an ambush hidden among the trees.” 

Feyre shot her Mate a dark look. “Nesta is not going to ambush us.”

Rhys and Feyre fell silent, speaking mind to mind. Knowing better than to get involved, Cassian turned to the trees again. 

Cold winds swept off the sea, making Cassian shiver. As he looked at the trees, his gaze snagged on a boulder about 60 yards away, just slightly beyond the tree line. There was nothing special about it, besides it’s massive size probably being a foot higher than Cassian’s height, and just as wide. But as he stared at it, Cassian suddenly felt a tug in his gut. 

“There.” He said, before moving toward it without waiting for a response. 

Cassian walked around it, examining the smooth surface for any signs. He met Azriel at the back, as he had gone around the other side. 

“Do you see something in this bolder we don’t, Cass?” Feyre asked as she and Rhy joined them. 

“I…” Cassian frowned. “No, I thought something was telling me this was it.”

“This was what?” Rhys asked. 

“A giant boulder of obsidian, of course.”

The voice that spoke those words did not belong to any of them. 

In an instant Rhys had thrown Feyre behind him, his dark power surrounding them. Cassian and Azriel both drew their swords and siphoned up shields around them, jumping back. 

However, they all froze upon seeing the figure now perched atop the rock.

Emerie sat there cross legged, an amused look on her face as she looked down on them. 

“It really is just a rock,” Emerie said as she hopped down to stand in front of them.

Emerie turned to Rhys and Feyre to bow. “Good to see you again my Lord and Lady.” She straightened to look at Cassian and Azriel, smiling. “You two as well.” 

Cassian thought back to the last time he had seen Emerie. After Nesta had disappeared, Cassian had stopped training the priestesses and Emerie. Had stopped doing a lot of things. His last conversation with Emerie had been a couple days after Nesta had gone, when it had become clear to him that neither Emerie or Gwyn had any idea how or where Nesta went. 

Azriel had tried to continue to train them all for a while, but between looking for Nesta, Feyre’s pregnancy, the threat of the human queens, Koschei, and the talks with Vallahan, Cassian later learned training had been put on hold. That was another thing for Cassian to feel guilty about after they were also gone. 

“Emerie,” Rhys said, looking her up and down. She wore leathers like the ones Feyre had described Nesta wearing, her wavy hair braided with feathers down her back. And the missing sword was hanging from her belt. “What are you doing here?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could Cassian felt the world shift. Every molecule of his being was suddenly pulled to the right as time seemed to slow down and he turned. 

“She is helping me show you all what I told Feyre was the truth.”

Nesta said this from 10 feet away, standing between two trees where she had certainly not been a moment before. She looked as Feyre had described. Wearing well worn fighting leathers, molded to show off the sleek muscles of her arms, stomach, and thighs. Her golden streaked hair shone in the sunlight, with a silver feather braided into it. Her smooth skin now had a warm tan, making her glow. Cassian had never been able to take his eyes off her, but now there was no denying how devastatingly beautiful she was.

She stood straight, her arms crossed with the Great Sword at her belt. Her stormy grey eyes were bright like a thunderstorm as dusk as she surveyed them all. Except for Cassian. She seemed to be dutifully ignoring his stare. 

“The reason I asked you all here is because this is the meeting point of those within the Night Court who are working with the Rising to steal the Night Court's power.” 

“Hello Nesta,” Rhys said, his voice cold. “It’s been a while.”

Nesta took in Rhys with an equal level of disdain as he gave her. After a moment she simply said “Yes,” before turning to Azriel and continuing.

“The fact that your shadows have not picked up this group's activities tells me that they are probably already well established in Prythian.”

“Nesta,” Feyre said, stepping forward. “If you want us to believe you, why not start with how you left eight years ago and what you have been doing since them.”

Nesta sighed. “I ended up on the continent and met some people who… helped me. They also were interested in helping the priestess. Something I understand you lost interest in once I was gone.” Nesta still didn’t look at Cassian but he felt as if she punched him in the gut. “The group consists primarily of lesser Fae who want to upset the hierarchy of power between them and High Fae. Actually they really just want to flip it, and subject the High Fae to the same treatment they revived. They call themselves The Rising,” Nesta rolled her eyes. “So to answer your inevitable question as to how we know this, the former priestesses have been tracking this group's movement on the continent. We intercepted one of their correspondences to a contact here.” 

“How do you know they have a source within the Illyrians?” Azreil asked, the only one of them not completely taken aback by Nesta’s explanation.

Nesta nodded to Emerie, who removed a parchment from her pocket. “This is the last message we intercepted,” She explained as she handed it over to Azreil. 

Az brow furrowed slightly as he read the paper before handing it to Rhys.

“What is it?” Cassian asked as Rhys got the same look.

“The top part is Illyrian but the bottom part is in a language I don’t recognize,” Rhys explained as Cassian took a look for himself.

The part in Illyrian read: PEAK SUNRISE DROUGHT CEILING

“What is that supposed to mean?” Feyre asked after they translated the Illyrian for her. 

“We aren’t sure either,” Nesta said. “We think it refers to another meeting place. And we were hoping one of you knew what the other language was.”

“Amren might know,” Azreil said.

Nesta stiffened at the female's name. “That would be helpful,” She said. 

Cassian blinked in surprise. Nesta wasn’t one to appreciate someone else helping, especially Amren. 

“And how exactly does the Rising think they can steal Prythian’s High Lords’ powers?” Rhys asked. 

“Like I told Feyre before, by finding the physical manifestation of it in Prythian.” Nesta leveled Rhys a glare. “If you know, you might want to check it, and the Illyarians. And look out for Riding members infiltrating  the courts.”

Rhys examined Neata with the High Lord stare that regularly brought Fae to their knees. “And what will you be doing, Nesta?”

Nesta held her chin high, weathering the power rolling of Rhys. “My friends and I will be handling them on the Continent.” 

Cassian couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh, that’s all?” He growled.

Nesta finally looked to Cassian, her face impassive. That look made his blood boil, in conjunction with how it felt like she was ripping out his heart. 

“We have been trying to stop this group from spreading on the Continent for years now. I have no interest in seeing Prythian become subject to their misguided revolution.”

“You sure you and your friends can handle it?” Cassian spit out. “Sounds like you have been failing for years.”

Out of the corner of his eye Cassian sensed Emerie step back. Silver flames danced in Nesta’s eyes. 

“We’ve done a lot in the past eight years.” She said in a deadly quiet. “I’ve done a lot of things. I’m doing this to save the lives of innocents. I’m not interested in another war or anything else.”

Cassian fell silent. 

In all the times he had imagined seeing her again, it wasn’t like this. He knew she was the queen of pushing people away, but even at her worst he knew what to expect from her. He could take her yelling and cursing at him. He hadn’t really believed Feyre before about Nesta looking good. Hadn’t truly believed she could be happy without him when not a day had gone by where he hadn’t missed her. But Cassian didn’t know how to handle her standing tall, strong, confident, and beautiful, telling him what to do. All without him. 

Probably sensing Cassian’s coming breakdown, Feyre stepped forward. 

“I’m sorry Nesta, I’m still very confused. How did you get into Velaris, and who are your friends besides the priestesses?”

“You are the one who wanted me to master my powers Feyre. I did.” 

Feyre blinked. “Okay but who—“

Feyre was cut off by an ash arrow flying out of the trees to lodge in the middle of her chest. 

•••••

Tag list

Thanks for being here :)

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(Bold doesn’t work)

[feysandandnyx]

I really hate the pregnancy plot line, to me it doesn't make any sense. In my opinion, Rhysand is being mischaracterized by hiding Feyre's pregnancy risk. However, I think Sarah's intention was to show that Rhysand is being severely affected by Feyre's pregnancy, including his ability to judge or think. Basically, he's more overprotective than usual. Rhysand all the time tries to keep Feyre safe and hassle-free. He's not making it easy for anyone, not even himself.

"Did you really need to give Nesta that death glare earlier?" He sat up, the soul of innocence. "I don't know what you're talk about, Feyre darling" - "I'd never do such a thing. You must be thinking of your other mate." 'Yes, the cruel, overprotective, half-insane one" (acosf - Sarah. K. Maas)

"You have a pregnant mate, Rhys. You’ll kill anyone that presents a threat to Feyre. You’re a danger to all of us right now". "I’d never harm someone Feyre loves. You know that." There was enough tension in the words that Cassian clapped his brother on the shoulder, squeezing the hard muscle beneath. (ACOSF - sjm)

Tonight also served another purpose: to tell the world of Feyre’s pregnancy. She wore a dress of sparkling black panels, muchlike the one she’d first worn here—and it did nothing to hide her swelling belly. No, it showed off her pregnant womb, gleaming in the candlelight. Rhys’s face was a portrait of smug, male pride. Cassian knew he’d shred anyone who so much as blinked wrong at Feyre into a million bloody ribbons. Indeed, cold violence rippled off Rhys as they walked toward the dais, Feyre’s babyrich scent filling the air. (Acosf - Sarah J. maas)

Rhysand is being a danger to himself because he can't stand the idea of ​​hurting Feyre.

“Because I can’t bring myself to give her that fear. To take away one bit of the joy in her eyes every time she puts a hand on her belly.” His voice shook. “It is fucking eating me alive, this terror. I keep myself busy, but … there is no one to bargain with for her life, in the amount of wealth to buy it, nothing that I can do to save her.” (Acosf - Sarah J. Maas)

The secret seems to arise from the need to keep Feyre safe:

Amren threw a withering glare in Nesta’s direction, but said, “We did not wish to alarm you. Fear can be as deadly as any physical threat.” (acosf - Sarah J. maas)

But Rhysand is overreacting, because he's more overprotective than usual:

Rhysand overreacted. He completely and utterly overreacted. Cassian shook his head, though Feyre couldn’t see it. I’m sorry you had to learn of it. I’m not. I’m furious with all of you. I understand why you didn’t tell me, but I’m furious. (Acosf - Sarah J. Maas)

“I think Eris is our ally, and will expect to dance with a lady of this court at the ball no matter what. I won’t let Feyre within five feet of him, Mor might kill him, and Amren is more likely to scare him off than win him over, so you and Elain are the only options.”“Elain doesn’t go near him,” Feyre said. “And you won’t let me near him?” Rhys threw her a charming smile. “You know what I mean.” Feyre rolled her eyes. “You’re becoming insufferable.” (Acosf - Sarah J. Maas)

Let's remember that alongside Feyre's pregnancy there is the possibility of war on the horizon and during ACOMAF Rhys was saying this:

“If I am a High Lord’s mate, I’m expected to bear you offspring, aren’t I? So perhaps I shouldn’t.”“You are not expected to bear me anything,” he snarled. “Children are rare, yes. So rare, and so precious. But I don’t want you to have them unless you want to—unless we both want to. And right now, with this war coming, with Hybern … I’ll admit that I’m terrified at the thought of my mate being pregnant with so many enemies around us. I’m terrified of what I might do if you’re pregnant and threatened. Or harmed.Something tight in my chest eased, even as a chill went down my back as I considered that power, that rage I’d seen at the Night Court, unleashed upon the earth.” (Acomaf - Sarah J. Maas)

There is no part of the book that says Rhysand wouldn't tell Feyre the truth. This is what Nesta is saying but 1) she knew how Rhysand was feeling 2) she knew he was looking for a way to save Feyre

“Is Feyre distraught?” “She doesn't know the full scope of it. In this she willed herself to settle the fear by leaching through her. "And Rhys needed to fight out his fear." "Yes. Along with his guilt and pain." (Acosf - Sarah J. Maas)

And Feyre is saying this about his relationship with Rhysand:

I knew he was hedging, and I let it slide. I'd learned that Rhys would tell me what was bothering him when he was good and ready.

It had always been part of our friendship: to give each other the space to decide when we were ready to talk. (Acosf - Sarah J. Maas)

Perhaps that explains why Feyre forgave Rhysand too quickly and she isn't calling him Tamlin 2.0.

No one is considering that Feyre could have an abortion (it's like there's no such option since it's not mentioned) and Madja was the one who forbade Feyre to do shape-shifting.

“Madja has put a ban on any more shape-shifting. She says that to alter Feyre’s body in any way right now could put the baby at risk. On the chance that it could be bad for the baby, Feyre is forbidden to so much as change the color of her hair until after the birth.” (Acosf - Sarah J. Maas)

Even if Feyre chose to make a shapeshift (which she doesn't), nothing could guarantee that she would miscarry or that the fetus wouldn't be deformed or anything like that.

So why is Rhysand controlling Feyre's body? Why can't he, as a parent, be worried about Feyre and the baby's life? Of course Feyre deserved to know, it was her right as well as Rhysand's. But why does he appear like a monster in some speeches? I believe that Sarah failed in this construction, especially when she does not write clear dialogue and leaves things for the reader to guess and this allows anyone to have their own interpretation of the subject. She could have written a dialogue between Feyre and Cassian where these things would have been clear. Feyre could have been talking through Cassian what it was like to kick Rhysand for that. I mean, does Cassian have time to wish Rhysand the same happiness but not to give depth to him or Feyre through his point of view?

Dialogues serve to clarify developments and contain damages. This should be taken into account, especially when you're writing a book where the main point of view doesn't favor the IC for a considerable part of the narrative.

[snelbz]

Lost Time {19}

Summary: It’s been four years since Azriel ran away from Velaris and left behind everyone he ever loved  — including the girl left standing at the altar. Now, he’s back home, but can he try and pick up the broken pieces of his life, or has there been too much lost time?

@snelbz / @tacmc collab

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A/N: Whoops has it been 12 years since I updated this? Yes, it has. Another chapter written with @tacmc. Enjoy!

Elain had made it her mission to give Nesta the best party of her life. She had no idea how many people would actually end up showing up, but Nesta would definitely be feeling the love. 

Her house was decorated to perfection. She had spent the entire morning cooking and baking, and her entire kitchen was loaded up with goodies, which is where she found Azriel, his mouth full of a chocolate cupcake.

When Elain came around the corner, he looked like a child who had been caught doing something his mother had told him specifically not to do.

“Hi,” he said, his mouth full, words muttered. “You look beautiful.”

“And you,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and wiping chocolate icing off his face, “were told to wait until after the guests got here.”

He grabbed her hand and sucked the excess chocolate off her finger but ignored the fire it ignited in her eyes, knowing they didn’t have time to play before everyone arrived. He knew Elain would have washed the icing from her hand, since even the smell of chocolate made her slightly nauseous these days. He couldn’t let that go to waste. “They needed to be taste tested.”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “You’re worse than your son.”

As if on cue, Donovan ran in, dressed in his jeans and plaid shirt, nearly identical to Azriel, and asked, “Mama, can I have some of celery, please?

Azriel raised a dark brow. “Are we sure he’s mine?”

Elain snorted and put a few pieces of celery and a glob of peanut butter on a small plate. “Trust me, your terrible eating habits are nearly the only thing he didn’t inherit from you.”

Novan took the plate and sat down at the table. “Yeah, daddy, terrible eating habits.” 

The way he said habits had Elain laughing. Meanwhile, Azriel looked highly offended. 

The front door was pushed open and Nesta’s voice fluttered through the house. “El, this is beautiful!”

She came around the corner to the living room to find Nesta, teary-eyed, and Cassian standing behind her, shaking his head.

“I told you to get here after all the other guests,” Elain chuckled, looking pointedly at Cassian.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “She couldn’t wait, and she overpowers me.”

Elain sighed and was about to say something when small feet ran from the kitchen. “Uncle Cass!”

“Hey, bud,” he smiled, scooping him up. “You clean up nice.” The compliment was lost on the four-year-old as he replied, “Thank you, I took a bath this morning.”

After a breathy chuckle, Cassian set him down and he hurried over to his aunt. He gently hugged her belly. “Hi, Aunt Nesta. Hi, baby.”

With a fond smile, Nesta ruffled his hair. “Hey, bud. You look nice,” she said, throwing a glance at Cassian, especially when Donvan beamed up at her.

“Thank you! Look!” He ran over to where Azriel had just entered the living room. “Me and daddy are twins!”

The word had Azriel’s eyes finding Elain’s and he smiled softly before picking his son up. When he saw Elain getting misty-eyed, he turned the conversation to the couple before him again. “Did you figure out how to announce the gender yet?

Nesta’s eyes hardened and she turned to glare at Cassian. “I don’t know, Cass, have you decided how to tell your fiancée what we’re having?”

Elain spun and looked at him. “You peeked?”

He was biting his lip. “I peeked.”

“He peeked!” Nesta cried, crossing her arms over her stomach. “And now he won’t tell me. Or anyone, so don’t you dare ask.” She pointed at both Azriel and Elain.

Elain was gaping, and Azriel was just shaking his head. “That’s cruel, taunting a pregnant woman with information she wants to know.” 

“She said she didn’t want to know,” Cassian said, defending himself. “Until I knew, of course.”

His grin only widened as Nesta groaned. “He’s a complete a-.” Her words dropped off as she looked down at Novan. “Meanie,” she finished, after a moment.

Elain shot her a grateful look and said, “Well, you, sit down and relax.” She pointed to the couch and Nesta wisely did as she was told. She turned to Azriel, “Would you mind taking some pictures of…” She trailed off and gestured around the house. “I’m, just, sort of proud of it.”

“You should be,” Azriel said, kissing the top of her head. “Everything looks amazing. Of course I will.” She smiled up at him and he kissed her before turning to Donovan and saying, “I’ll need my assistant though, where’s your camera, bud?”

“In my room!” He was off, running up the stairs on all fours.

Azriel chuckled and followed him.

Finally, Elain pointed at Cassian, “You, follow me, I need to ask you a question.”

His eyebrows rose but he did as she said, following him into the kitchen. Nesta called, “You better not tell her!”

Shaking her head, Elain said, “As much as I’d love to grill you about my niece or nephew, that’s not what I need to ask.”

“Okay,” Cass said, leaning against the counter, eating the last remaining celery stick from Novan’s snack. “What’s up, Lainey?”

“Azriel’s ex came to see me at the shop yesterday,” she admitted.

Cassian’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Ianthe did?” Elain nodded, gnawing on her lip. He chewed slowly. “She’s got some balls.”

“She didn’t tell me who she was, but that almost unsettles me more,” she admitted. “It made it feel more like a threat than a social visit…”

Cassian was quiet for a moment as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I never met her, but from what Az has mentioned, she does seem pretty...unhinged.” 

The look on Elain’s face fell even more. “You don’t think she’s dangerous…do you?” 

Cassian hesitated, and it was all Elain needed to form an answer. “I couldn’t sleep last night, Cass. She left me so unnerved that I… I don’t know. I’m paranoid.” 

“We already told Az that there’s nothing we can do unless she makes a move,” Cassian said, his voice low. “But, if you’re feeling unsafe, I’ll be sure to have someone hang around here throughout their night patrol. Alright?” 

Elain nodded, but grabbed his wrist as he went to turn back toward the living room. “I don’t want Az worrying because I’m paranoid. You know? Because it’s probably nothing. So, just…keep this between us, yeah?”

Cassian frowned, but he nodded, nonetheless.

It wasn’t long after that guest after guest began to arrive and she heard the telltale sounds of merriment in her living room as they all greeted Nesta. The back door opened and Rhys appeared, carrying a massive tray of cupcakes.

“Fridge?” He asked, inclining his head towards.

Elain shook her head and told him to go ahead and take them into the living room, with the rest of the food. She heard steps on the wooden stairs and then Feyre appeared, carrying Lila.

“Hi! I’m sorry we’re late!” She hugged her sister and said, “Everything looks so good!”

Elain scratched behind the pup’s ear, earning her a happy bark and many attempted, sloppy kisses to the back of her hand. She chuckled and went to the sink to wash her hands before going back to chopping up more veggies.

Excited, little footsteps headed towards them. Donovan appeared and his eyes were as big as his grin. “Lila!”

Feyre smiled and put the pup down, who ran straight to her “cousin”, hopping and ready to play.

“Aunt Feyre, I took some really good pictures of Aunt Nesta’s party. I should take some of Lila,” he announced.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Feyre beamed, kissing the top of her nephew’s head. “Show me your favorite one and I’ll get it framed and hang it on my wall at home. Sounds good?” 

Novan’s eyes lit up. “Yes! C’mon Lila!” 

He excitedly disappeared around the corner, Lila just behind him.

“They make a good team,” Elain said, as she watched them go, fondly. “Don’t blink, Novan will try to hide her here so that you won’t take her back home.”

Feyre chuckled. “Oh, good, maybe he can potty train her, too.”

Elain laughed and closed her eyes, resting a hand on her stomach. She sighed dramatically. “Oh god, I’m going to have to go through potty training all over again.”

Feyre chuckled and said, “At least you have Az to clean up the bad ones this time.”

Elain tossed her head back and laughed. “Thank the Cauldron.”

Feyre helped her carry the veggie tray into the living room and Elain began playing host. She kept catching Azriel’s eye from across the room. The smile on his face, the secret the two of them kept, had Elain’s heart so full, she had to look away before her own smile was too telling to those around them. She kept checking on everyone, asking if they needed anything, until she felt slim fingers wrap around her wrist and tug her down on the couch.

Nesta said, “Sit with me. You’ve done more than enough today.”

Elain just rolled her eyes. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you’re pregnant, and I am also pregnant, which means I know you’re exhausted,” Nesta said, laughing quietly. “Please? We’ll do gifts or something.”

Elain looked around hesitantly, but eventually sighed. “Okay, alright. Az?” She caught his eye across the room, where he had Novan on his shoulders and Lila propped up on his legs, wagging her tail. “Mind helping hand gifts?”

His smile was soft. “Of course.”

Elain got the room hushed down as she begrudgingly took a seat next to Nesta on the couch, Feyre on her other side with a notepad, ready to keep track of gifts for thank you notes.

One by one, Azriel gave gifts to Novan, who brought them to Nesta. Elain’s heart was so full. Her entire family there with her, Nesta happy and nearing the end of her pregnancy.

After Nesta had opened an entire nursery worth of gifts and had cried an insane amount, most of the guests had left and everyone was relaxing. The three sisters were sitting on the couch, discussing nursery colors when Cassian brought the three of them each a cupcake. Feyre immediately unwrapped hers and took a bite, as did Elain. Nesta just continued to explain the theme of the nursery they’d begun a few days before.

“Nes,” Cassian laughed, interrupting her as she debated the merits of having the changing table by the door or by the crib and she looked at him.

She asked, “What?”

He shook his head. “Eat your cupcake.”

“Not right now, I’m not hungry,” she said, turning back to her sisters.

“Take a bite of your damn cupcake, woman,” he chuckled.

She glared at him and unwrapped the cupcake without looking at him, and took a bite. Mouth still full, she asked, “Happy?”

He was shaking his head and laughing and Elain realized she heard a camera shutter just as Donovan asked, “Why does Aunt Nesta get a pink cupcake?”

Nesta froze, her eyes slowly trailing down to the cupcake in her hand as she swallowed the food in her mouth. Sure enough, the inside of her cupcake was pink.

“It’s pink,” she breathed, looking up to meet Cassian’s humored gaze.

He nodded, his smile widening. “It’s pink.”

A joyful sob left her mouth as she stood and made her way across the few feet of space that led her to her fiancé. She wrapped her arms around him as Miryam lifted Novan in the air and spun him around, making him giggle. 

Elain found Azriel’s gaze from the other side of the almost-parents and smiled, softly. 

“A girl,” Nesta cried.

“A girl,” Cassian agreed, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

Elain, pregnant and emotional, reached for a tissue on the side table. On the other side of the room, Novan tugged on Azriel’s hand. “Aunt Nes is having a girl baby?”

Azriel picked him up and stepped off to the side. Miryam was hugging Cassian, who had never looked more proud. “She is, buddy.” He frowned and crossed his arms, and Azriel couldn’t help but chuckle. “What is it?”

“I can’t play with a girl baby,” he pouted. “I wanted it to be a boy.”

Azriel smiles and kissed the top of his head. “I’m sure you did, but I promise having a girl cousin will be fun, too.”

He nodded, but the frown and subsequent line between his brows stayed. They watched the scene unfolding before them and Donovan rested his head on Azriel’s shoulder as he yawned.

“Looks like it’s just about nap time for somebody,” he said, singing the words.

Donovan shook his head, but asked, “When is she going to be here?”

He explained, “It’ll be a little bit longer. She’s not ready to come out yet.”

Nodding, he yawned and asked, “Will she be here before or after mama’s baby?”

He gently swayed, saying, “Before. Mama’s baby will be here around Halloween.”

“Spooky baby,” he mumbled and Azriel chuckled.

He repeated, “Spooky baby.”

After one more yawn, he asked, “Can mama have a boy, please?”

Azriel chuckled as he started with Novan up the stairs. “That’s kind of out of our control, buddy.” 

“Why?” He asked, quietly, his eyes starting to close on Azriel’s shoulder.

Azriel sighed, trying to think of the best way to explain the ways of the world to a four year old. Getting him to understand that babies grow in mommies tummies without getting too detailed was difficult enough. “Just because,” he said, at last.

Thankfully, he had taken long enough to reply, because Donovan was too sleepy to reply. His little arms had snaked around Azriel’s neck as they walked to his bedroom, and Azriel didn’t bother with more comfortable clothes as he laid Novan down and tucked him in. He was asleep before Azriel even left the room, softly shutting the door behind him.

—————

It had been a week since the Ianthe incident when Azriel got a call from an old friend in the photography business. The conversation was innocent enough, a discussion on different lenses and the best location for a subject in front of the sun.

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later, thanks, man,” she’d said before hanging up. “Oh, and by the way, congrats. I’ve heard you have a kid on the way. That’s awesome.”

He chuckled and said, “Thanks. Yeah, it was kind of a shock.”

He and Elain had been walking on air the past few days. They were having a family dinner tonight, after Elain went to her check up. She was a couple days shy of sixteen weeks and the family knew there would be new ultrasound pictures to ogle over.

“Yeah, to all of us, too,” Nuala had said. “We didn’t even think you and Ianthe were still together.”

It was a good thing Azriel wasn’t driving or he would have crashed without a doubt. Nuala said something else, but Azriel interrupted her and asked, “Did you say Ianthe?”

“Yeah, it’s all over her Facebook.” He could hear the unease in his friend's voice. “Why?”

“I gotta go, Nu,” he said, breathlessly, not waiting for her reply before hanging up and opening the browser on his laptop. A quick search had him on her page and all he could do was stare.

She had an ultrasound picture as her cover photo. Elain’s ultrasound photo.

He stared in shock, unable to process what he was seeing. He grew nauseous, and purely panicked. Aside from wondering how the hell Ianthe got those pictures, he wondered what other lies she was spewing across social media.

He scrolled down, each post making his heart beat faster and the need to puke stronger.

Every day, she had updated her status, sharing with the world her journey to motherhood.

Azriel was calling Rhysand before he could think twice. 

“Hey, I’m about to head into a meeting-.”

“Ianthe is making the world believe that she's pregnant with my kid.” The words rushed out of Azriel, and he didn’t take a breath as he continued, “She somehow got Elain’s ultrasound pictures and is posting them all over the internet.”

Azriel was greeted with silence, then a low, “Fuck.”

He could hear the typing of Rhysand’s keyboard and then a low whistle. “Elain at work?”

“Yeah, I just talked to her not long ago, everything was fine. She hasn’t mentioned seeing Ianthe again. Neither have I.”

The clicking of his keyboard continued and he said, “I’ve reported the posts, but you know as well as I do that she can just repost them. I can write out a cease-and-desist letter if you want, but-.”

Azriel was shaking his head, regardless of the fact that his brother couldn’t see it. “No, that’s exactly what she wants. She wants to know she’s getting a rise out of me.”

Rhys sighed and said, “I know.”

“Don’t tell Elain about this, please.”

The line was silent for a minute and Rhysand finally started, “Az-.”

“No, promise me you won’t tell her,” he said, interrupting him. “She’s already freaked out as it is, even though she doesn’t want me to know. I can see it. She’s barely been sleeping, and in her condition…” Azriel sighed and let his head hang. “I’ll handle it, I’ll deal with Ianthe. Just don’t mention this to Elain or Feyre.”

Rhysand groaned, and even though he didn’t approve of the request, he said, “Fine. Let me know if Ianthe tries anything else.”

Azriel stared back at the ultrasound picture on the model’s profile as he said, “I will. Thanks.”

Rhysand hung up and Azriel’s nerves went haywire. He was caught between the thought of wanting to track down Ianthe and shake some sense into her and wanting to go to Elain to make sure Ianthe didn’t make anymore appearances. If he tracked down Ianthe, though, she would know her plan was working, which would only inspire her more. And if he went to Elain, she would only grow more nervous and paranoid, which wasn’t good for her or the life inside of her. 

Azriel needed a drink.

Or a smoke. 

Or to pack up his family and take a vacation.

Currently, none of those were an option. He glanced over his shoulder to where Donovan had fallen asleep on the couch watching Power Rangers. It was close enough to his nap time that Azriel hadn’t bothered to wake him, just letting his son get some much needed sleep. He smiled softly, and turned back to his laptop, closing Ianthe’s profile and turning his attention back to the photo editor he’d been using.

True to his word, Donovan had taken tons of pictures of Lila, around three hundred to be exact. Most were of a vague black blur surrounded by rich hardwood or soft grass, but there were a few that actually turned out that he could work with. 

Azriel wanted the best for his son, he wanted him to know that he could do anything he dreamed of, even at four-years-old.

An hour later, he had three images edited to perfection, ready to print.

He woke up a sleepy Novan and packed him up in the truck, heading to a local print shop. It just happened to be across the square from the antique shop. After handing the printer a thumb drive, they told him the prints would be ready in a little under an hour, right about the time they’d be leaving for Miryam’s for a family dinner.

Donovan was a ball of excitement, so ready to see his first job, he continually called it.

Leaving the shop, Azriel eyed the antique shop’s store front. “Want to go see mama while we wait?”

“Yes!” He replied, without any hesitation. 

Azriel took his hand and they crossed the street, Novan a rested ball of energy. The moment the door opened and the bell chimed, Novan was yelling, “Mama!”

Elain came around the corner, a hand on her stomach as Novan ran toward her and threw his little arms around her waist. She raised her brows, laughing as she looked up at Azriel. “My two favorite boys, what a nice surprise!”

“Me and daddy are getting pictures made,” Novan said, smiling brightly. “One for Aunt Feyre, and one for our house!” 

“Is that so?” Elain asked, impressed. “Well, I can’t wait to see them.”

Azriel had just reached her, moving much slower than his toddler. When he kissed his wife, softly, Novan was covering his eyes. “Gross.”

Azriel snorted as he ruffled Novan’s hair. He looked at Elain, letting his fingers dance over her belly. “How did everything go today?”

She chuckled and ran a loving hand over her stomach. “It’s definitely getting cramped in there, that’s for sure. But all good. I go back in two weeks.”

Azriel released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Good. I’ll be there this time, I promise.” He kissed her again. “When can you close up? The prints will be done around five-thirty and I figured we could all ride to mom’s in one car, rather than two.”

She chuckled and looking down at her son, who was resting his chin on her growing stomach, gazing up at her. She picked him up, seeing the look on Azriel’s face, and shot him one that said I dare you to say something. He, wisely, did not.

Elain turned and headed back to the office. “I just finished up with inventory. I need to touch up this piece and then we can head out. But can you do me a favor, please?”

She sat Donovan down and he ran off to play around the store, before she turned to Az.

“Of course,” he said, leaning against the doorway.

She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. “Please go get me a decaf coffee. I know I can’t have caffeine, but I think I can trick my body into thinking it’s getting it.”

Azriel chuckled, softly, and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Of course. Novan, you wanna come with me or stay with mama?”

“Stay with mama!” He was currently sitting upside down in a refurbished chair, so Azriel wasn’t going to argue with that.

“Okay,” he breathed, smiling at Elain. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, watching him go as he made his way back through the shop. There was a little coffee house just across the street, and after looking both ways, he hurried across the pavement, onto the sidewalk, and through the double doors. A cool blast of air hit him as he stood in line, waiting to order a simple large, decaf coffee.

The thought of Elain tricking her own self into drinking something with caffeine had him laughing where he stood. Gods, he loved that woman.

He ordered a coffee for himself, a frozen hot chocolate for Novan and Elain’s decaf and stepped to the side. He was scrolling through his emails when he froze.

“Funny. You never drank decaf before.”

Her voice had him on red alert and he’d spun to face her before she’d even finished speaking.

Her turquoise eyes sparkled as she cooed, “Hi, Azzie. Did you miss me?”

He couldn’t speak, didn’t know how to speak as he took in Ianthe standing in front of him. And how she was cradling her stomach.

Snapping out of it, he grabbed her by the wrist, not nearly as gentle as he should have, seeing as they were in public, and dragged her to the corner. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Her face was the picture of innocence. “What do you mean?”

“This!” He said, his voice raising slightly. “All of this. Coming to Velaris, scaring the shit out of my wife, pretending you’re having my baby? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He had the vague notion of someone calling his name, knew that his order was ready and he should leave, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

She was smiling and that was the scariest part of it all.

“Leave my family alone,” he seethed, finally dropping her wrist. He backed up toward the counter. “Don’t talk to me or my wife, and don’t you dare think about doing anything to my kids. Go home, Ianthe.”

She said nothing as he backed away, but that sly smile on her lips remained. 

It sent chills down his spine.

He forced himself to turn away, forced himself to take the drinks off the counter, and forced himself not to look back at her as he exited the shop. Everything felt wrong, every last ounce of comfort he had been clinging to have vanished.

She was crazy.

Actually insane.

And he knew for a fact that his words had meant nothing to her.

Azriel tried to look calm as he re-entered the antique store, finding Novan bouncing up and down as Elain painted an old vanity.

“Decaf for my wife, and chocolatey goodness for little man,” Azriel announced, forcing himself to sound chipper.

Novan was instantly on his feet, reaching for his drink with a thank you, daddy.

Elain took the coffee and put it to her lips, scalding hot or not, and murmured, “This will give me energy. This will give me energy. This will give me energy.”

Az chuckled quietly and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading into her office and sitting down at her desk. He dropped his head in his hands and sighed. He knew he needed to tell Elain, but now was not the time. He’d tell her tonight, when they got home, after Donovan was asleep, after spending the evening with their family.

His phone rang, and it snapped him out of the downward spiral his thoughts were taking. After answering and finding out the prints were finished, he took a deep breath and made his way back into the store front.

He pressed a kiss to Elain’s head and said, “I’m going across the street to grab his pictures. Want to finish up and pick me up over there?”

She nodded and asked, “You want to leave your truck here and take my car?”

“It’ll save room at mom’s,” he said and nodded.

“Okay, give me five minutes.” She stood and kissed him and he was on his way.

He took Donovan’s hand and brought him with him across the street to pick up the prints. When Elain pulled up just over five minutes later, Azriel and Novan were sitting together on a bench outside of the storefront, looking at the two massive prints of Lila they had ordered.

Novan’s joyous laughter as he took in his work was a sound that Azriel would remember for the rest of his life.

“I’ll bring them to get them framed and then we’ll hang it up, okay?”

Novan nodded, excitedly. “Can we give Aunt Feyre hers at Meme’s? I really, really want to!”

Azriel laughed as Elain rolled down the window. “Of course.”

“Mama!” Novan yelled, jumping up from the bench and pointed at the print in Azriel’s hands. “Look! My picture!” 

Elain’s reaction was equivalent to someone admiring an ancient, prized masterpiece, which had Novan beaming.

Once they were in the car, Novan was going on and on about his picture, about how Aunt Feyre was going to love it, and how he was a photographer just like his daddy. Azriel thought his heart was going to burst.

“Can I see them?” He asked, and Elain smiled as she handed Azriel the two small, black and white images. He gazed at them, finally able to see a baby in each the pictures, rather than just a blurry blob. He didn’t realize he was crying until Elain took his hand over the middle console. He cleared his throat and whispered, “Wow.”

He couldn’t think of any other words to explain what he was looking at, how happy he was. Elain agreed, though, smiling and glancing at him. “Wow.”

Pulling into the driveway, Novan was bouncing in his seat, begging Azriel to get him out as soon as Elain had parked the car. After safely tucking the ultrasounds away in Elain’s purse, he did just that and Donovan was up the stairs and in the house before Az and Elain had time to laugh. He started for the porch step, but Elain grabbed his hand.

“Are you okay?” She asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “You seem off, baby.”

He’d tried his hardest to act normal, not to let Ianthe’s appearance affect him, but Elain knew him inside and out. She knew him better than he knew himself, so of course, she’d notice.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he said, “I’m fine. Just…got a lot on my mind.”

She nodded, completely understanding. “Well, come on. Let’s take some time to not think about anything but our family.”

His smile was genuine when he took her hand in his and led him up the stairs, and into the backdoor. They were all there, already, everyone circled around Novan, praising his camera skills and the picture of Lila.

“I’m going to hang mine right in the entryway so that everyone who comes to my house will see it the moment they walk through the door,” Feyre promised. 

“It’s just what we needed,” Rhysand agreed, with a wink. 

“Now I’m a photographer, like daddy,” Novan said, turning to smile at his parents. 

“Yes you are,” Miryam promised, as she wrapped Azriel into a hug, then Elain. “Everybody hungry? The tables all set and ready.”

“Yes, please,” Elain said, sighing as she rubbed a hand over her stomach.

“Before we eat, though, I need to see the new pictures!” Feyre called, Nesta agreeing as they went into the dining room.

Elain laughed as she pulled the little envelope out of her purse and set the bag on the counter before wrapping an arm around Azriel’s waist and walking with him through the threshold of the dining room.

She handed one of the pictures to Miryam and the other to Feyre and then stepped back to wait with Azriel. Rhys asked, “No gender yet?”

She shook her head. “We’re waiting until twenty weeks. I’m not dealing with another color swap fiasco.”

Elain’s very first nurse had jumped the gun and told her Donovan was going to be a girl. Naturally, so did Feyre and Nesta, and Elain had a nursery full of frilly, pink sparkles.

And then a month later, she’d found out she was having a boy.

Feyre handed the ultrasound to Nesta, who was already crying, and she looked at it with a hand over her mouth.

Cassian chuckled and pressed a kiss to her head and looked at the ultrasound in her hand and then to the one Miryam had just handed him. His eyes narrowed and he looked back and forth between the two.

“Wait,” he began, scooting closer to Nesta. “Why does mine say baby B, and hers says baby A?”

All conversation stopped as everyone looked to Cassian, where he was still looking back and forth between the two pictures. Nesta’s mouth had fallen open, Miryam’s hands had flown up to cover her mouth, but it was Feyre who was smiling brightly up at Elain, whispering, “Twins?”

Elain fell into Azriel’s side, her laughter contagious as she announced, “We’re having twins.”

“Twins?” Novan repeated, as everyone around him celebrated. “What’s twins?”

Miryam picked him up and sat him in her lap as Cassian handed her the two ultrasound images. Nesta was already crying with Elain in her arms and Feyre was hugging Azriel. Miryam set the two images on the table and said, “These are two different babies, but they’re both in mama’s tummy.”

His eyes went wide, “I get two babies?”

He’d begun to refer to the baby as his baby, and Elain thought her heart would explode every time.

“You get two babies, buddy,” she said, tears shimmering on her face.

Novan’s awed expression turned into utter excitement. “Two babies! Two brothers!”

Azriel hesitated, but Elain just laughed. “We’ll have to see, buddy. We don’t know if it’s brothers or sisters yet in there.”

Novan was quick on his feet, standing in front of Elain and pressing his cheek to her belly. “Please, someone in there be a brother.”

Everyone laughed, but Elain just ruffled his dark, messy hair. “Even if they’re both sisters, you’re going to be a good big brother to these two babies, buddy.”

He looked up at his parents and smiled. “I’ll be the best big brother in the world.”

[darklove9314-blog]

Do you think that a court of silver flames was well written? When I read it, I hated every character that I use to loved. Most people are happy that Tamlin is suffering for his mistakes but did Feyre not do the same to Nesta? I also love the friends that Nesta made but I feel like Nesta isn’t the type to have sleepovers with hot chocolate. I saw her more as Loki character (cunning and mischievous). Also the fact that Feyre is literally still a child and is a mother is weird. I just hate that book. To make things worse, NESTA AND CASSIAN DIDN’T REALLY TALK ABOUT THIER ISSUES (like the fact that Cassian is more loyal to his friends than his own mate and the trauma that Nesta went through). I just felt like the book is very poorly written and everyone acts like Feyre is perfect makes me want to throw up. Am I a horrible person for wanting Feyre and Rhysand to die?

TW: for mentions of rape/severe depression/ childhood abandonment.

You see I have a love/hate relationship with ACOSF because I see a lot of good in the story and in Nessian’s relationship in general, I do wish we spent more time on Nessian than on the Feysand baby plotline. I think most of the reason this book went the way it did was because at first it had a separate plot line. If you go back to ACOFAS, it’s as clear as day, she may have had to scrap the idea due to the various problems within the text. If she had went with the simpler plot of Nesta’s healing journey and Nessian’s romance this book would’ve been better, because despite having a 800 page book about a Nessian, I still feel like I know nothing about them, like I loved getting glimpses into both their past and Feysand and their pregnancy plot take away from who the book is supposed to be about which is Nessian. However I went into this book with the mind set that SJM can’t let go of Feysand (even though Nessian is her second biggest ship in her fandom and a better ship in my opinion) that and all her various lives had the same five questions so I kinda figured this would be the case. I think since I prepared myself I ended up enjoying the book because I went into it with low expectations, but that still doesn’t mean I can’t admit that it could’ve been an extraordinary book If SJM focused on the couple it should have been focused on, As for Feysand, I’m an anti Feysand shipper because I can’t stand Rhysand. He is the worst type of person. Feyre I’ve always been on the fence about her. I don’t hate her with a burning passion of a thousand suns, but I don’t love her either. As far as the IC the only two I hate right now (besides Rhysand) are Mor and Amren. And I can agree, I think people acting like Feyre is the perfect being enables Feyre a lot, it squanders the potential Feyre could have as a character by treating her as if she’s still a child and keeping things from her about her own court, like she can’t be happy 24/7 and people need to realize that, tough childhood or not, the real world doesn’t give you these type of free passes, as for Cassian, I’m at an impass. I love Nessian with my whole heart and soul, but even I can admit when he can be a dick, it’s why out of the bat boys, he’s my favorite. The thing about his devotion is that it’s all about psychology and the effects of childhood abandonment, Cassian’s main fear is being abandoned by those he loves. To feel unwanted and unloved. (If you look back to the way he talks about wanting kids and how he would make sure that they never felt unwanted or unloved it hits harder) and giving Cassian’s history him clinging onto whatever family he thinks he has makes a lot of sense. Even if that family doesn’t deserve his devotion at times (I’m looking at you Rhysand) but let me go further, In Cassian’s history, he was a biproduct of rape, we have no clue what psychological repercussions that has on Cassian, but from the way that it appears to affect him I can say that it’s a pretty heavy factor to why Cassian feels unloved and unwanted, He was also ripped away from his mother at a young age and thrown into a place that made him feel even more unwanted, his mother was also murdered before he could do anything about it, and it’s clear as day that he blames himself for his mother’s death like Nesta blames herself for her father’s. That being said Rhys is a sensitive subject for Cassian because despite Rhys being a raging asshole, Rhys was also the first person that Cassian made a connection with. Rhys’s mother was also the person that made sure that Cassian felt loved and wanted. So I can imagine after 500 years it’s hard for Cassian to let that go and Nesta understands that no matter how much she may hate Rhys. It doesn’t mean she necessarily has to like Rhys. There’s a lot of great reasons why she doesn’t, but she’s not going to get in the middle of that relationship because she knows how important Rhys is to Cassian. But she’s also Cassian’s mate and best believe that she’d rip Rhys a new asshole if he hurt Cassian in anyway, (I’ll probably make this an analysis later)

[kolwyntjie]

Rhys took you 26 hours??? Damnnnn. Then he is amazing! Practice makes perfect as I like to say😂And that cattttt 🐈‍⬛ omgggg it’s so preciousssss, what’s his/her name🥺. I understand you’re busy, take all the time to do your things but put yourself in priority, you’re important and you need to rest when you do❤️. And no but fr, your book recommendations were amazing I will for sure read them! I love when people recommend me stuff they’re passionate about, it’s always fun to see:)

On an ending note, I agree. I feel like it wasn’t really Rhys’s place in Acosf to enter Az’s business with Elain but he had a greater good intention so I still understand him. And I don’t like how he hid Feyre’s dangerous pregnancy for her but yet again, in that same situation I might have done the same. I mean he was so worried about her and didn’t want to make her worried…🥺-🦋

Ahahahaha yeah Rhys kicked my ass, he took wayyy too long. I kept coming back over and over to rework his face.

Also Yes! The Cat! I honestly have no idea - I'll call him The Void for now (that sounds super omnious...oh well!)

Thank you so much! That means the world to me, honestly. I always hate it when I can't keep posting updates, etc. - I really enjoy sharing my work, but sometimes it's important to take a step back and get stuff sorting in our lives, I suppose. Also I'm so happy to hear that the book recs were good!

ACOSF personal opinion incoming below the cut! (Nothing bad or extreme, just a bit of a ramble! Not everyone may agree, and that's okay!)

Absolutely! Completey agree with you on Rhys. Since I've had some time to mull it over, I've sort of come to understand Rhys's POV more on the subject , but I still thing it wasn't really super In-Character for him to command Az like that. Regardless, I get where he's coming from, and I think it's his way of protecting this Court and Az.

I absolutely hated that he kept the information from Feyre, and I really REALLY want a piece with her reaction/how that's resolved. I can NOT imagine her being okay with that at all, considering their/her history. One of the main problems she had with her mating bond was that Rhys kept it from her, and though that gone handled, and he explained why he did it, it upset her. While I understand him, I still think it wasn't the best idea. Besides, her being extremely worried could have impacted the pregnancy as well...but that's another one of the reasons I hate it. I just feel like she should have been given all of the information from the start, to make decisions that impact her life.

But then again, all of the ACOTAR books until ACOSF were from Feyre's POV, and of course, as his mate, she will paint Rhys in a way that is perfect to her. It stands to reason that Rhys isn't perfect, and still makes the off choice from time to time.

This being said...Rhys is still my favourite character. I absolutely adore him. I can't help it 🤷‍♀️

[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Eighteen

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti  @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me @rinad307 @superspiritfestival )

so, i recalled earlier this week that in canon, showers don't exist. you might be thinking, hey lior zoë, what are you talking about? allow me to refresh your memory. in acowar, nesta confesses to feyre in front of the inner circle that her ptsd is triggered by taking baths, because of the cauldron. so she has to bathe in buckets. feyre assures her that they will come up with some contraption that will allow her to clean herself some other way. in the snippet from the end of acofas (which we now know is called A Court of Silver Flames, btw!!), nesta mentions her ability to slip into a bath is huge progress. so presumably, feyre has not given her this contraption. i think about this all the time, because the idea of a superior race with all the magic in the world not having ever invented showers is so supremely stupid to me. however, it has come to my attention that on two occasions I have forgotten this, and mentioned showers in previous chapters of lpg. i have elected to continue ignoring this and in the future will continue to reference showers. but in accordance with the rules of the game, I can no longer call this fic canon compliant AU. henceforth, this fic is a showers exits!AU and nothing more.

enjoy.

---

February 9 - 4 years after

The last of Sugar Valley's snow melts in early February, and as mid-month nears, the weather almost looks warm outside. Of course, it is still plenty cold, so every morning brings a new argument on whether or not Avery has to wear her coat, which sparks an identical one with Nicky.

Nesta takes a deep breath. "All right, Avery," she says. "Stand outside for one whole minute without your coat. Just on the porch. Yes, you too, Nicky."

"I want Ollie to come too," Avery demands.

"No, Ollie doesn't want to stand in the cold without a coat. There you go. Your minute starts...now."

Nesta watches the two of them stand on the front porch, Nicky enjoying himself like it is a game and Avery, cross and stubborn, glaring at her.

Ollie sits on the floor next to the door, working on putting his boots on by himself. He's quiet except for slight whispers as he coaches himself on how to tie his laces.

"Had enough?" Nesta calls.

"I'm cold, Mummy."

"Well, come inside and put on your coat, then," Nesta says, doing her absolute best to keep her voice even.

Nicky does, but Avery remains outside, scowling.

Nesta takes a deep, shaky breath. "Avery," she says. "I can see you're shivering."

Avery stomps her foot. "I am not."

Nesta closes her eyes. "All right," she says. It's far too early in the day to choose a hill to die on. "Let's just walk to nursery, then."

Nesta wraps Avery's coat inside hers—she can't hold it normally, for if Avery sees it, she'll throw a fit. She fastens her buckle tightly, so the smaller coat won't slip down her body and she can still use both her hands to hold onto her children.

But Avery doesn't want to hold hands today.

Eventually, she manages to get all three of them to nursery, with Avery in her sour mood the whole way, Ollie keeping to himself as much as possible, and Nicky blissfully unaware of both his sister's and his mother's irritation.

She sneaks the coat into their teacher's hands and leaves after only two quick kisses goodbye—Avery has joined her friend Emilia in a game and refuses to pay Nesta any mind at all.

So Nesta scowls on her way to start her day, too. Perhaps even more than usual, for Maz ducks behind a bookshelf as soon as he sees her.

"How have you scared him off already?" Zeyn asks, laughingly, from behind her.

Nesta whips around. "All I did was walk in here!" She can't help her outburst. She doesn't have many outlets. She'll take what she can get.

But Zeyn is rather used to this, and his easy-going personality never falters. "Woah," he says, holding his hands up. "Coffee's in the back room. Come with me."

She'd like to stew in her misery for a bit longer, actually, but Zeyn doesn't let her, pushing her along and sitting her down in a chair.

"Is it the workload?" he asks her. "I know you've been taking the brunt of those Prythian writers..."

"It's all of it, Zeyn," Nesta says, dejected. "It's the writers and my regular workload and Avery's going through this phase...and Ollie's being quieter than usual and I think his lungs are part of the reason, really..."

And she doesn't say it to him, but it's Cassian, too. Not that he's done anything wrong, it's just...he's been in the Night Court all week, and she has grown so used to having him around. And now it feels like everything has been dumped upon her alone. Pairing this with that "paperwork" that Amorette had started doing, which is shaping up to be a huge opportunity for her in Ciyaluck...Nesta's never felt more burdened in her life.

"At least Nicky's still singing to himself," she says miserably.

"Ava's not exactly depressed, Nesta," Zeyn says, teasing slightly.

"I think she hates me now."

"She doesn't! Like you said, it's just a phase."

"It's not..." Nesta swallows. "It's just a lot."

And now she can't even share with him, because...well...it feels too weird. She and Cassian have been co-parenting for months now. She's been slowly easing Zeyn out of conversations like this, and to suddenly talk about something as intimate as her relationship with her daughter with such brazenness...it feels wrong to be talking to anyone else this way.

But that isn't right. She still loves Zeyn. He still helped her with the children so much when they were born, when she was pregnant.

"It feels a lot to handle sometimes," she says finally.

Zeyn cups her face with his hand. His eyes, warm as ever, twinkle at her. "You don't have to handle it alone," he promises, voice sweet.

She summons a smile. "Is that an offer to edit these short stories I just got?"

Her ill attempt at humor works. He laughs and breaks apart. "Count on it."

---

February 3 - 1 year after

It was a good thing Adil had found her a house when he did, because the deals with the bank and with Erest, the councilhead, were finalized just as Nesta grew to be too big to fit through the door of her room at the inn.

Nesta had actually been looking forward to her second trimester, because of the promise of not greeting every morning with violent illness, and then crumpling up in a heap on the bathroom floor.

But it seemed that the first day she had awoken to find all she had eaten before going to bed yesterday had successfully stayed down, was also the day she thought she would not be able to get out of bed on her own. While it was true—in her case, at least—that the fourth month of pregnancy brought with it the energy that had all but disappeared completely these past few months, it wasn't much use if she was too heavy to handle herself.

Amorette, her healer, was pleased to note every pound Nesta gained. She had been worried, at first, having heard tell of females unable to produce enough space and nutrition for multiples and losing all of them, one after the other, but Nesta was having no such troubles. She—and Miri—had assured her that she did not look to be the same size as her new two-story house, though.

(There was some concern about the size of one of the triplets, a male, significantly smaller than the other two, but Amorette said as long as they were keeping an eye on it all, they should be fine.)

"Right, then," Adil said, coming down the stairs of the house. "You should be set for now. Placeholders," he added, nodding towards the blue couch in the living room and other items that graced Nesta's sparse new home. "Until we can...get some..." he trailed off, looking around, perhaps doing more measuring in his head.

"You've done more than enough," Nesta said firmly. While pregnancy had not been kind to her over the last month, Adil certainly had, helping her with everything she could possibly think to need. Miri as well. And Zeyn...well, Nesta could never really tell if he was more irritating than helpful, but he was there, too.

"Got the cribs set up, room next to yours. Didn't paint the room, though..."

Nesta could hardly believe it. "What?"

Adil looked as startled as she felt. "Well, Miri said it was important for you to paint it. Nesta...?"

"Nesting," Miri called from the kitchen.

"Right."

"No, no, it's not that. I just..."

I just forgot I'd need cribs.

"...didn't realize you had bought me cribs. That's—that's too kind."

"Gift from the shop," he grunted, looking away. That was fine. Nesta didn't want to make eye contact either. "Well, we'll be on our way."

Miri came out of the kitchen. "I've got some meals ready for you in there, dear."

"Oh, thank you, Miri. You didn't have to do that."

"Oh, please. We'll see you tomorrow, dear."

"Thank you," she said again, to them both, as she walked them out.

The sound she made when she shut the door was between a sigh and a groan. Endless relief and gratitude that she finally—finally, for the first time in her life, had her own home. And the dawning realization that it would not be hers alone in a few short months.

Or would it? Nesta didn't remember deciding she was going to keep the triplets, only that she wasn't terminating the pregnancy. Were those her children stretching out her insides, she wondered, running her hands over her belly as she stared in the mirror? Or was she just holding them for someone?

That was something she needed to figure out. Before Cassian wrote back, at least.

She tried not to think about how he hadn't written back yet. Perhaps he was still...upset. But he would, eventually, and then she...they would...what?

Less than five months to go...and with the average duration of a triplet pregnancy being far less than the typical nine months, probably not even that. Whatever decision she was going to make, she had to make it soon.

---

February 18 - Year of

Nesta never thought the sight of Cassian's house in their camp would bring her so much relief. But it meant that trip was finally over.

"I've got to shower," she said, as soon as she walked in the door. "I have to get all of that place off of me."

"What was so bad about it?" he called after her, but she didn't stop to answer.

That camp wasn't so terribly different from this one, true. In fact, it was uncannily similar, as she had noted when they first arrived there. But the people were different. There was no love lost between all the townspeople here (save Cassian and Emerie) and Nesta, but she had not missed being looked at that way. Hated...feared.

She hadn't minded really, in that room. And she could admit to herself here, alone in the shower, that she even...enjoyed some of it. The parts where she spent all her waking hours with Cassian, and even when there were other people in the room, she wasn't sharing him.

Nesta had never been someone's first choice. No one had ever placed her at the height of their priorities, given themselves to her first and foremost. And that still wasn't what was happening. They had only gone because Cassian was General Commander—sworn to her sister and Rhysand and the people of the Night Court first.

But all that had seemed far away on this trip. It was so easy to pretend like none of that was real.

Even then, she knew the illusion couldn't last that long.

---

February 26 - 1 year after

Days seemed to go by quicker now. What with her new house, Nesta felt she had more freedom to go about the town as she pleased. She was so taken with living life as she saw fit, she didn't even mind that Sugar Valley really didn't have much to do. She thought she might prefer it that way.

In the mornings, she would walk to the bookstore, and someone would be waiting with a coffee for her. Zeyn or Miri or sometimes Leyla. Perhaps they worked in shifts.

She'd read and repair all day, and stop to eat lunch with everyone at half past noon. There hadn't been a collective lunch break when she had started, but one day she sat down with a large container of chicken salad, and Zeyn had sat himself next to her, and then Leyla had joined, and Maz followed her, along with Xeyale and Amir, and Miri had come to see what the gathering was about, and then Adil had wandered in after her. Sometimes their publishing agent, Hazar, stopped by and joined them.

Sometimes she'd leave in the afternoon for a visit with Amorette. In the evenings, she'd go home and fix herself dinner, which she liked to do alone.

But after that, she'd go for a walk about the town, and inexplicably, someone would be there. Most often Zeyn.

"So, you think of any names yet?" he said to her one night, as they walked.

Nesta popped a sugarberry into her mouth. "Names?"

"For the babies."

Nesta flinched. "No."

"Oh, do you think it's bad luck to talk about it? Some people do. My mother's that way."

"I don't believe in luck," she said. Luck was so faerie, like their pantheon of gods and fate and mates. None of that was real. Not real enough to matter, anyway.

Zeyn laughed. "That must be nice."

She didn't think it was. He laughed at everything, didn't he? Nesta would never be that way.

"So, do you need any help? With the names?"

"Did you have some you wanted to share?" she asked drily.

"ZJ," he said immediately.

"ZJ? Zeyn Junior?"

He grinned at her. "Got a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

She summoned a weak smile. Where she was from, someone was only a Junior if they had taken their parent's name.

"Zahra's pretty popular for a girl," he continued, unaware of her thoughts. "I think it's pretty."

"I don't think I want a Gilameyvan name, though," she mused. And she certainly shouldn't choose a name if she wasn't sure she wanted to keep the children.

"What's popular in Prythian, then?"

"I don't know," she said shortly. Then, after considering it for a few moments, "I'm from south of Prythian."

"What's popular there? Is Nesta a common name?"

"Hardly," she scoffed. Feyre wasn't, either. They did know their fair share of Elains, though. "I guess...Heather? Joyly? Analynn?"

"Joyly's nice."

"Well, I didn't like any of the Joylys I knew."

"What about boy names?"

Nesta thought. "Well...Caleb, I guess. Elias." She didn't remember many boys she had known. Tomas, of course, but she wasn't going to name anyone after him. "Actually," she said, softly, "I did always like my father's name."

He touched her elbow gently. "What was his name?"

"Ollison," she said. She hurried to find something else to say. She certainly didn't want to talk about her father. "I like Avery for a girl. A book I liked when I was younger...the heroine was called Avery."

"Human-authored?"

"Yes."

"Maybe we can find it," he said. "How do you know so many human-authored books anyway?"

So Adil hadn't mentioned her slight stretch of truth. "I lived among them for many years," she said.

"Wow, really? What were they like?"

"They were normal," she answered, irritated by the question.

"Really, even to a High Fae?"

Oh. That was why he asked. How to answer?

"Friendships and love can transcend race," she said, thinking of her sister and her new family. Herself and...

"You loved some of them."

After a lengthy pause, Nesta said, "I did. Very much."

---

February 11 - 4 years after

Avery's poor attitude does not transfer towards her behavior at nursery, according to her teacher, and while Nesta supposes she should be glad of this, she finds she's only upset that it seems to be just her Avery has a problem with.

This is further worsened by her shrieks of delight when Cassian accompanies her to pick them up that afternoon.

Avery races towards him like she hasn't seen him in months—even though Cassian had arrived last night, and they had all eaten breakfast together.

Cassian doesn't seem to notice Nesta's disgruntlement, and laughs as he picks Avery up into his arms. Nicky and Ollie clamber at his legs, and he scoops them up too.

Nesta keeps her eye roll to herself as she takes their bags. Not Avery's coat, though—because at Cassian's request, she had elected to wear hers today.

At least Nicky says, "Mummy, I missed you so much today!" and Ollie nods along eagerly.

"Can we go to the park?" Avery asks.

"You know the rules, Ava," Cassian says sternly, as they leave. "We go home and eat first."

Avery pouts some, and Nesta's blood rushes to her cheeks—is she going to throw a tantrum? Oddly, the idea of a public fit doesn't faze Nesta at all, as the three of them have each had their fair share, but having Cassian see how incompetent she can be mortifies her beyond belief.

But he coaxes her out of it by promising they're going to go to the park later, and actually, they're going to cook something together to eat, and won't that be fun?

Nesta has been hiding her bitterness from her children their whole lives, so this one afternoon is hardly the one that kills her. But she takes extra care to keep up cheery pretenses because of Cassian's presence, and she's convinced she's done a good job of it, because he doesn't seem to notice anything's the matter at all.

At least, she doesn't think he does, but right after they shut the door to the children's room, he puts his arm over her shoulder, and—when they are safely out of earshot, in the kitchen—says, "Nesta, what's wrong? You've been miserable all day."

"I have not been miserable all day," she scoffs, trying to hide her flush with a glare.

"Come on, Nesta. What is it? Is it Ava? Kids act like that all the time."

"I know how children act," she snaps.

"I didn't mean to imply you don't," he says. "Just...trying to reassure you." He hesitates. "Nesta...Rhys and Az and Mor each told me that you're a wonderful mother."

"What a surprise that must have been."

"To them, maybe, but not to me," he says seriously. "I always knew. But it's okay if this is hard for you to do on your own. With Ava and with everything you've had to take on at work...and, you know, if anything else has been pressuring you..." he trails off, and when she doesn't show any sign she knows what he's talking about, his lips tug upwards slightly, and he adds, "If I've been pressuring you."

"You have not been pressuring me," she says automatically.

"Well, I hope you're lying," he says, "because I've certainly tried to."

Nesta rolls her eyes.

"You really haven't thought about my telling you I want us to be a family?" he asks, skeptical. "I don't believe you. Come on, Nesta, it's just me. You can tell me."

Nesta gives a short, irritated sigh. "Well, of course I've thought about it."

"And what?" He takes a step closer to her. "You haven't come up with an answer yet?" He puts his hands on her shoulders, smirking slightly.

He's...he's much closer now. And his wings aren't spread wide, but inching closer to her as well. Blocking out everything in her periphery, so he is all she can see. "I have."

He raises an eyebrow. This is unnatural, isn't it, being this close without actually touching? "And?"

His eyes—like Avery's, like Ollie's, like a dark honey disappearing into the black of his pupils. It takes her a minute to remember what he's talking about. "Oh," she says, slightly surprised to remember. "Well. Of course I want us to be a family." She doesn't get a chance to say anything else.

Because then he is kissing her, and it's like no time has passed. His hands circling her waist and hers taking their place in his hair. He tastes the same—that vague lemon and mint. His hair is a bit longer, but the growling sound from the back of his throat when she pulls it is just as she remembers. It's what spurs him onward, downward. His lips move to the side of her mouth, and he kisses down her neck, but she pulls him back upwards. It's been too long. She has waited so long for this.

And it appears she'll have to wait a while longer, because just as their hands start to roam, a small voice from the stairwell calls, "Mummy, my throat is really hurting a lot."

They rip apart. Cassian's eyes are wide, and he snaps his wings backwards to be tucked against his back.

Nesta whips around, hands furiously smothering her hair—just in time to see Ollie wobble into the kitchen.

He hasn't seen.

The pair of them breathe a sigh of relief together.

Then Nesta remembers what he said. "Your throat hurts, angel? Come here." She picks him up and holds him against her. He lays his head on her shoulder and coughs, wet and deep.

"It's been back," Nesta whispers to Cassian. To Ollie she says, "Do you feel like you need to take the purple medicine we got from the healer?"

Ollie nods, yawning.

"It's in that cabinet there," she says to Cassian. She takes a deep breath to calm herself so she can calm him. "We're going to take a little bit of medicine. We're going to practice our deep breaths over the steaming bowl, and first thing tomorrow we are going to see our friend Healer Nazrin. All right, angel?" She looks at Cassian when she speaks, and he nods along with Ollie.

After she directs Cassian on how much of the tonic to give Ollie, she says, "Now, why don't you go with Appa and sit on the couch, and Mummy will bring the steaming bowl?"

This is not the first time Ollie has woken up in the middle of the night complaining of throat or chest pains and a cough. Nesta's not overly terrified; in fact, she's even pleased to see he is old enough to tell her exactly what hurts and that he wants medicine. But she knows that for Cassian, this is the first time, and he is probably as scared as she was. So sitting with him for a moment alone on the couch while she takes care of the treatment will probably calm him down.

And give her just a few seconds to collect herself. There is far too much on her plate. She doesn't need anything extra to deal with now.

---

hope you enjoyed that!!

also, did you know, i started a booktube? also also did you know, june 21st as this week and it’s the triplets’ birthday? also also also did you know, june 25th is tomorrow and that’s my birthday!!

thank you all so much for the overwhelming support. i just love you guys so much. i also love @thestarwhowishes, my beta.

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Chapter Nineteen

[featherymalignancy]

Like a Lonely House, Part VI

Alas, if only all updates were this swift! I am really excited to share this next installment with you, Part V was a good set-up, but I think this chapter is hopefully the pay-off. Also your support is what keeps me writing, so thank you so much. PLEASE ENJOY! 

Like a Lonely House: A Nessian Story Of Betrayal and Redemption                                                

                         “so I wait for you like a lonely house

                        till you will see me again and live in me. 

                               Till then my windows ache.”                                

                                            -Pablo Neruda

Warning: NSFW for language, mild violence and smut. This story is not ACOFAS complaint, but it will borrow elements from the story. oh, also tons of angst. Synopsis: Fifty years after the Hybernian War, Prythian is finally at peace. For Cassian and Nesta, animosity has turned to something more amorous, and they stand on a precipice of something that scares and excites them both. However, it only takes one night of weakness on Cassian’s part to change everything, and with a young Illyrian prince gaining power in the North, Nesta agrees to an marriage alliance, both to protect her family and get her as far away from Cassian as possible. As things unravel between them, Cassian begins to suspect there is something more deliberate seeking to keep them apart, and he struggles to uncover the truth and win Nesta back before it’s too late.

If you’re new to the story, please click HERE for the masterlist. 

Part VI

Time—it seemed—had a wicked sense of humor. 

It had dragged in the weeks after things had fallen apart with Cassian, even as had Nesta been desperate to see the incident washed out to distant memory. Now, as she waited with dreaded anticipation for the betrothal ceremony, time flew as if the flames of all seven hells were scorching its heels.

She didn’t allow herself to consider how Cassian’s absence this past month had affected things. She hadn’t seen him since the first day she’d arrived back from Illyria, and though her pride insisted it had been a relief to be rid of him, something deeper down despaired at it.

Not that it mattered; she still hadn’t forgiven him for what he’d done, and she was still intent on marrying the prince. Nothing had changed. Still, something about his absence set her on edge, as if something were...amiss somehow.

He’d still not arrived back on the evening the High Lords were due to arrive, a realization she forced herself not to dwell on as she sat getting ready. 

She let her gaze settle into the middle distance as the twins attended to her, fastening a cuff of black diamonds around her wrist and twisting her hair into a voluminous knot at the crown of her head. She didn’t object when they tucked the  јатаган into her hair as well, knowing despite everything that she’d feel better this evening if she were wearing it. Much harder to bear were the garnet earrings they offered her, their color so much like that of asgyir blood that Nesta found them hard to look at.

Nesta was just finishing slipping on her jeweled slippers when Feyre arrived, looking like a newborn star herself.

“Are you ready?” She asked, gaze cautious as she studied Nesta. “We need to be leaving for the palace soon.”

Nesta snorted, not wanting to have to lie and say she was. 

“Are you?”

Feyre took a deep enough breath that crystals on her gown twinkled.

“It’s never—pleasant seeing him, I’ll admit. But I suppose we all have to make sacrifices now and again. Still...”

Her gaze was full of meaning when she turned it on Nesta again, and seeing where she was going, Nesta rose, holding up a hand.

“Don’t start with that, Feyre. Please, not tonight.”

Seeing her sister meant to ignore her, Nesta whipped the skirts of her velvet gown out from underfoot, starting down the grand staircase of the villa as Feyre trailed after her.

“Am I not allowed to ask how you are?”

“I’m fine,” Nesta said. “And would be better if you would stop pestering me.”

Feyre, it seemed, wasn’t to be deterred.

“It’s going to be a long evening. I just thought you might want to...talk.”

Nesta whirled, the tail of her velvet gown twining around her legs. 

“Talk about what, exactly? Tonight is a stupid formality that doesn’t affect me one way or another.”

“And tomorrow?”

Nesta stiffened slightly.

“Tomorrow I will do what needs to be done for this family and this court.”

She picked up her skirt again, heading down the stairs in a effort to escape the conversation. However, when she was halfway down Feyre spoke again, so softly that even Nesta’s fae hearing could barely detect it.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Nesta grit her teeth.

“For what?”

“For all of it. For asking you to marry him, for letting you accept his proposal. You deserve better, Nes. I’m sorry.”

Nesta swallowed, beating back the forgotten dream of what she’d once imagined her life would be. However, when she turned to see Feyre, she caught a flashed of the half-starved child Nesta had let her become before she crossed the wall and she felt her resolve hardening.

“Perhaps this is exactly what I deserve.”

Before Feyre could protest, she glided down the rest of the stairs to where the rest of their court waited.

She ignored both Rhysand and the Shadowsinger as she passed them, coming to Elain’s side instead and squeezing her hand. She didn’t let herself wonder at where Cassian still was, or if he’d be here at all.

“Are we ready, then?” Rhysand asked, adjusting the cuffs of the great coat he wore, long enough that it nearly brushed the tips of his well-polished boots.

Mor huffed.

“As ready as I ever am to see Eris, that little prick.”

“Would you rather have spent the evening with Beron?” Rhysand asked.

“May he burn in the hells,” Feyre muttered under her breath.

“They’re both awful,” Elain said, wincing a little as she pressed a hand to her belly in an attempt to soothe the baby’s kicking. “I still wish Lucien had taken the crown.”

“I know he’s your mate, love, but just how many courts would you like him to rule?” Mor said, laughing a little. “He’s already Prince Consort to Vassa, and unless Flaviana and Helion have another child, he’s their only heir as well.”

“I know it wouldn’t actually have worked,” Elain said, blushing a little. “I just...Eris is so—”

“I don’t disagree,” Rhysand said with a sardonic smile. “But it’s not a problem we can solve this evening. Shall we?”

“Yes. The others will be vexed if they arrive before we do.”

Nesta found her anxiety mounting as Rhysand nodded, his expression mirthful but his eyes somewhat solemn. Nesta looked away from him before he could catch her eye. If there was one person she didn’t want pity from, it was him.

“Meet you at the palace, then,” he said, kissing Feyre softly before simply vanishing.

Mor disappeared as well, and Elain paused to give Nesta a reassuring smile before letting Azriel wrap them both in shadows. When they were gone, Feyre turned to Nesta.

“Shall we?”

Nesta nodded without comment, but as she reached to take Feyre’s hand, she found the words she’d sworn she wouldn’t say tumbling out of her mouth.

“Will he be there tonight?” 

Feyre didn’t seem to need clarification on who she meant.

“Do you want him to be?” She asked quietly.

Nesta fought to master herself, pursing her lips.

“Why would I?”

“Then why ask?”

Nesta tongue felt tacky in her mouth as she tried to bite out a retort.

“Let’s go,” she said finally, and though Feyre looked poised to argue again, she merely nodded, pulling Nesta to her as they both disappeared.

They arrived several minutes later in the grand hall of the moonstone palace, servants bustling all around them as they waited for the six remaining High Lords of Prythian to arrive.

Nesta had only been there a handful of times before, and she marveled at the grandeur of it even as her nerves began to fray. There was something so formal in the lavishness of this palace, and being here suddenly made the kilhamine feel so much more real than it had in her own room in Velaris. She remembered the look Adan had been giving her the last time she’d seen him, she felt her stomach tying in sickening knots.

The first of their guests to arrive was Lucien, who dismissed the page rattling off his formal title of Prince Consort of Farrolien and Day Court Heir-apparent as he swept Elain off the floor into a merry hug.

“Gods, look at you!” He said, russet eye glittering as he held Elain at arms length. “Child-bearing suits you greatly, Enaid.”

Azriel gave an almost imperceptible snort as Elain blushed.

“You’re a liar, but a good one, so I won’t fight you. Where is Vassa? It feels its been ages.”

“She was attending a summit with the new queen in Faragast, but she should be here shortly.”

Before Elain could reply the doors boomed open again to admit a swaggering Eris Vanserra. The crown of rubies and canary diamonds he wore denoted his newly elevated station, as did the smug expression on his odiously handsome face.  He came with a small retinue, none of whom Nesta recognized, though their rather sour expression told her they were less than pleased to be there.

Eris’s eyes glittered when they fell on Lucien and Elain, mouth curling into a sinuous smile.

“Hello, little brother. Good to see you and your mate reunited at last. Shame she’s now another male’s wife.”

Azriel snarled before a new voice called, “And where is your wife, brother?”

Eris turned to see Vassa striding through the gilt doors flanked by her cadre of guards, his expression souring as she flashed a cool smile.

“Ah that’s right,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “You still haven’t got one.”

“Vassa,” Eris grit out by way of greeting.

However, Vassa ignored him in favor her husband, who she greeted with a soft kiss before turning to Elain.

“I should have known that you would wear pregnancy better than the rest of us,” Vassa said, beaming as she took Elain in. “I looked a whale with Sabina; you look like the Mother herself.”

“I think you’re looking lovely,” Rhysand said with a courtly bow. “Good to see you, Vassa.”

“Good to be seen, as always,” she said. “Is it just to be us, then?”

Eris flashed a smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

“Am I not enough for you, sister?”

Vassa’s gaze was sharp as she turned to smirk at him.

“No, I can’t say you are, darling.”

Eris’s lip curled, but before things could go any farther, the door opened again to admit Helion and his entourage. He was dressed in a customary white chiton, gold sparkling in his ears and at his bicep, where he wore the same serpentine cuff Nesta remembered from the first meeting of the High Lords all those years ago. 

Beside him, Flaviana— Lucien’s mother—dazzled in a draped gown typical of the Day Court, the diadem in her auburn hair matching the delicate gold of her wedding band.

She smiled at seeing her sons, letting go of her husband to open her arms to them. Lucien broke from Vassa’s side to meet her embrace at once, though Eris remained where he was.

“Mother,” he said simply, expression wary as he studied her attire. “I hadn’t expected to see you here.”

“Not an unpleasant surprise I hope,” she said in a mild voice, smiling at Vassa in silent greeting before letting her russet gaze wander back to her eldest son.

“Father’s not even ten years in his grave, and already you’ve out of mourning blacks and parading here in Day Court finery.”

The ten or so soldiers Helion had brought with them seemed to bristle at the insult, even as their High Lord gave a cool laugh. 

“Bold words from the male who put him in the ground in the first place,” Helion observed dispassionately. “Show some respect, boy, or you’ll find yourself lying beside him.”

“Let’s not fight,” Flaviana said, and Helion relented, turning to greet Rhysand instead.

“Good to see you, old friend. You should have weddings more often.”

Rhysand chuckled as they embraced, and Nesta stiffened as the Lord of Day’s dark eyes fell on her.

“Congratulations, my lady,” he said. “Or are we meant to call your princess now?”

“What do you care?” She said sharply, ignoring Feyre’s pointed look. “Surely the affairs of Illyria are beneath your notice.”

Helion gave a cat-like smile. 

“Evidentially they aren’t, or I would not be here. It’s good to see that time hasn’t dulled your high spirits, though. Where you’re going, I feel you’ll need them.”

Nesta only gave a soft snarl, and Feyre seemed ready to intercede when Kallias and Viviane, newly crowned as the High Lady of Winter, were announced.

Though Kallias eyed her as customary greetings were traded and Mor and Viviane cooed over one another, Nesta was relieved when he made no move to specifically address her. 

The two females were still discussing the arrangements for Mor’s mating ceremony to Viviane’s sister Allaria—currently in preciding over Winter while Kallias was away—when Thesan and his retinue arrived, his consort at his side and a host of Peregryn warriors filing in behind him.

“You always were a bit dramatic,” Helion chuckled as he watched the thirty or so Peregyn fighters fall into sentry formation a respectable distance away. Only Thesan’s husband remained at the High Lord’s side.

Thesan rolled his eyes.

“It’s so rare an honor to be invited to the Night Court,” he said primly, even as he bowed his head to Rhysand. “It seemed a treat that ought to be shared.”

“You know they’d be no match for the Illyrians in a fight,” Eris added with a smirk. “If you don’t believe me, ask—“

He broke off as his eyes scanned the growing assembly before his gaze found Nesta’s.

“Where’s your Lord Commander, princess?”

 She refused to let the comment’s effect show on her face, so she merely pursed her lips instead. Eris grinned, teeth gleaming bone-white. 

“I would have thought he would be at your feet all evening, loyal dog that he is. Or is it too much for him to watch you mar—“

“Enough, brother,” Lucien drawled. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

There was perhaps more that could have been said, but just then Tarquin appeared, flanked by Cresseida and a handful of others. Varian, Tarquin explained, had already winnowed to Velaris to be with Amren, who was currently guarding the city. 

Nesta fought off the twinge this news produced. For all their differences, Varian and Amren had always made it seem so...easy. Why Nesta had never been able to manage the same—even given how alike she and Amren were—had always gnawed at her. 

Not that it mattered now, she supposed. Not with Adan arriving tomorrow, and Cassian nowhere in sight.

Tarquin nodded his greeting to Feyre and Rhysand before turning to Nesta and giving a bow.

She fought not to stiffen when he said with considerably less mirth than Helion, “Congratulations, my lady. I hope your marriage is a happy one.”

Nesta couldn’t bring herself to smile or to thank him and so merely nodded instead.

“Shall we, then?” Rhysand said, snapping his fingers as servants appeared bearing trays of sparkling wine. “The kitchens have been waiting all month to impress you.”

“Are we not still one High Lord short?” Thesan said, eyes grazing over Feyre as if by mere accident. “It would seem poor manners not to wait.”

Helion laughed.

“Always the politician, Thesan. Have things grown so desperate in your lands that you feel the need to court Tamlin’s favor?”

“I agree with Thesan,” Tarquin said. “We may have all had our—differences in the past, but he is still High Lord. We owe him our respect.”

“You can’t honestly be so naive that you think he’d show his face here, of all places,” Eris scoffed. “I sometimes forget how young you still are, Tarquin.”

“I may be young,” Tarquin said, voice colder now. “But still I’ve been a High Lord  far longer than you.”

“Well this is going well,” Mor murmured from beside Nesta.

Nesta, for her part, felt her composure fraying as the back-biting continued. If there was this little diplomacy amongst the High Fae, what would it be like when the Illyrians arrived? The idea made her slightly queasy. 

“How long do you expect us to wait, Rhysand?” Kallias cut in, his tone matter-of-fact but not unkind. “I’m starving.”

Helion snorted.

“I wouldn’t hold my breat—“

The door blew open much more violently than before, the harried page trailing behind and stammering titles as Tamlin strode in with a cadre of fully-armed guards and a delicate young female at his side. 

“What an honor,” he drawled, eyes deliberately avoiding Feyre as he met Rhysand’s gaze. “To see your fabled territory at last, Rhysand.”

“And what an honor for you to grace us with your presence at last,” Rhysand shot back, lips curling into wicked smirk. “I feared you might be too busy to join our merry gathering.”

At this the female spoke, giving a little bow as she did. Her tone much more pleasant as she said, “The honor is ours, My Lord, truly. Please, forgive us for our tardiness.”

Everyone’s gaze slid to her at once, marking the fine lavender gown and the canary diamond sparkling at her finger. She seemed uncomfortable under the scrunity, only settling when Tamlin pressed a soft hand to her back. 

“My wife, Céres,” he offered finally, and Nesta observed a collective effort among the assembled not to gawk.

Rhysand recovered first, the cruel edge sliding out of his smile as he turned his remarkable gaze on Céres. 

“Congratulations,” he said. “You are very welcome here, my lady.”

Céres bowed her head in deference as a tense silence overtook the crowd, broken only by Vassa’s merry interjection.

“So it really is just you now then, brother,” she said to Eris, flashing him a bronzed smile. “How interesting.”

“This is happy news,” Helion said. “When did this come about? And shall I assume my invitation was lost in the post? It’s bad manners to keep secrets, Tamlin.”

“I don’t recall receiving an invitation to your nuptials either,” Tamlin snapped, jerking his head towards where Flaviana stood. 

“Three months ago,” Céres offered, laying a hand on her husband’s arm. “And it was very small affair. I’m afraid I’m simple country girl, and not much for pomp and ceremony.”

A commoner, then. Nesta couldn’t say quite why, but knowing that Tamlin had made a love match made her stomach ache. 

“Unfortunately sometimes pomp is necessary, my lady,” Nesta replied. 

Céres blushed, folding slightly into Tamlin as he fixed Nesta with a withering stare that had her feeling even more agitated.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to offend you,” Céres said.

Tamlin gave a dismissive wave.

“Don’t trouble yourself with apologizes, my love. Nesta Archeron’s always been a barbarous creature.”

“Watch your mouth,” Feyre warned. “You may be High Lord, but you are still a guest in this house.”

At this Tamlin’s eyes flicked to Feyre, something dark and complex sparkling in them even as his lip curled.

“As the High Lady commands,” he said.

“Tam,” Céres said quietly. “Please.”

He seemed to settle somewhat at that, and it made Nesta want to scream. He loved her, and she clearly loved him. Even Tamlin, for all his sins, had been allowed to find his happiness. What did it say about her own sins that the Mother hadn’t seen fit to grant Nesta the same?

“Shall we dine, then?” Rhysand said, taking Feyre’s hand as they traded a long look. “I don’t want Kallias’s death on my hands.”

A ripple of laughs echoed as Rhysand led the group to a large hall that overlooked the mountains beyond, beautiful almost beyond imagining. 

At first the conversation remained light as appetizers were circulated on trays and dancers performed to hypnotic music. However, when the hall had quieted, the High Lords and their consorts seated around a large round table with their vassals scattered at long tables farther down the hall, talk grew more serious.

“So,” Thesan began, accepting more wine from a passing servant as his dark eyes found Nesta and the others across the table. “Tell us about this prince of yours, Rhysand.”

Rhysand, never one to cede ground, only flashed a wicked, sleepy smile.

“What is it you want to know? I would tell you how young and handsome he is, but I’m afraid your husband may grow jealous.”

The male in question only pursed his lips as Thesan’s expression grew more serious.

“I admit it was—a surprise,” Helion added, eying Nesta more openly than Thesan had. 

Nesta felt the fork bending in her hand as she fought not to unravel at the unspoken question dazzling in his eyes.

“I don’t know why,” Feyre cut in mildly. “We’ve long sought a closer relationship with Illyria, given Rhys’s heritage. Why shouldn’t my sister marry an Illyrian?”

Eris laughed, clearly unmoved by the deflection.

“I don’t think that was ever in question,” he said.

Nesta turned to sneer at him, a gesture he met with a lascivious smile. “Rumor often had it, my lady, that your affections lay...slightly lower in the Illyrian social order.”

“Eris,” Flaviana chided, but he ignored her.

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Nesta said tightly, wondering how long she could last under this type of scrutiny.

“And yet Rhysand’s general remains absent this evening,” Tamlin pointed out, eyes the poisonous green of a snake’s skin. “Do you expect us to just ignore that? Considering the conquering army you’ve invited into our midst tomorrow, I would expect him to be here keeping order.” 

 When Nesta only clenched her jaw in response, Tamlin added, “Or is that a secret you’re hoping to keep from your Illyrian prince?”

Nesta felt her control snap like a split log, and she whirled on Tamlin, teeth bared.

“If we came to spill secrets, perhaps your new bride would like to hear some of yours.”

Céres paled at her mention, and gorged on the younger female’s timid reaction, Nesta pressed on.

“How you were so jealous and controlling a lover that you saw fit to lock my sister in your manor, your possessiveness driving her to the breaking point.”

“Nesta—“ Feyre interceded quietly, but Nesta wasn’t done.

“Or how you betrayed us to Hybern just so you could have her back under your insidious control.”

Tamlin snarled, and Nesta snarled right back.

“Tell her, Tamlin. Tell your sweet, provincial wife how you sought to destroy Feyre’s character when you realized she’d mated Rhysand. How you tried to ruin her reputation by humiliating her in from of this very assembly.”

Tamlin spit out a filthy curse, claws unsheathed as his lip skinned back to reveal razor sharp canines, long enough to tear out throats.

“You—“

“Before you finish that threat,” Nesta snapped, chest heaving now as she warred with all the unresolved aches Cassian’s absence these long weeks has caused. “I will remind you that when I am the Şezhana of Macar, I will have both the power of this court and twelve Illyrian legions at my back. Consider that next time you pry into my personal affairs.”

The table was silent when she’d finished, Céres pale and trembling as she reached to touch her husband’s hand, the claws retracting as she did so. 

Nesta watched the silent exchange, so sick with envy and rage that she feared she would burst apart.

“I don’t owe anyone an explanation,” she said, still glaring at Tamlin. “Least of all you.”

When Eris snorted into his goblet, she fixed her gaze on him, glad for another target to dull the anger and pain before she had no choice but to turn it inward.

 “And you,” she said, lip curling in disgust. “You may wear your father’s gawdy crown, but we all know that were your brother a fraction more ambitious, that title would be his, Vanserra blood or no.”

Lucien shifted in his seat, making eye contact with his mother across the table before looking down into his wine goblet. 

Eris, for his part, only gave a slow grin. If he’d been insulted by the barb, he didn’t show it, eyes raking Nesta’s form as he drawled, “Such claws for so beautiful a female. It’s no wonder the General’s run off.”

Nesta hadn’t expected the comment to hurt, but somehow it struck at something tender she didn’t know how to protect, and she hated herself for the tears in her eyes.

“That’s enough,” Rhys said in a lethal purr, his power unfurling in an obsidian wave that rolled across the marble floor. “Eris, keep your forked tongue behind your teeth or I’ll have no choice but to rip it out.”

Eris gave an insolent shrug. “I’m merely stating what everyone else has already observed.”

“To the hells with all of you,” Nesta snarled softly, throwing down her napkin and rising to her feet. 

She gave her skirts a hard tug as she stormed off, Feyre’s next threat to Eris bouncing off the moonstone walls as Elain leapt up to follow her.

Nesta was nearly to the rooms she’d been appointed when Elain caught up, grabbing Nesta’s arm. 

“Nesta,” Elain pleaded quietly, reaching to wipe away the few tears Nesta hadn’t managed to hold back. “Please, talk to me.”

“No,” Nesta said, pushing her sister’s hand from her face. “Just leave me be, Elain.”

“I can’t. Not when I see you like this.”

“I’m fine,” she grit out. “It’s—fine.” 

Elain bit her lip, gently brushing some hair from Nedra’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—didn’t see...Nes, there is something you should know about Cassian. He—“

“Don’t,” Nesta snarled quietly. “I mean it.”

Elain ignored her.

“I’d hoped to have more to tell you by now, but seeing you tonight—you cannot make any vows tomorrow until you hear what I have to say.”

“I don’t care,” Nesta said. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“But—“

“Why does what I want never matter!” Nesta burst out. “I said no; let that be the end of it.”

“Nes,” Elain pleaded, tears in her eyes now, too. 

“It doesn’t matter, don’t you see? I’m marrying Adan; that’s final.”

When Elain reached for her again, Nesta didn’t think; she simply vanished. If this truly was to be her last night for freedom, she would not spend it like this.

When she appeared in the clearing Cassian had once shown her she collapsed to the ground, uncaring at her ruined gown as she began to sob.

xx

Dinner was over by the time Cassian arrived back from Illyria, but he found Rhys and Azriel in the war room, drinking liquor and speaking in low tones.

“Anything?” Azriel said in greeting as Cassian went to pour himself a glass.

Cassian shook his head.

“I’ve been to every High Fae outpost in Illyria; wherever she is, it’s not there.”

Cassian tried not to despair at all the time he’d wasted, at the gamble that hadn’t paid off. His instincts had begged him to stay in Velaris after Nesta returned, to be near in case she changed her mind.

He knew Nesta too well for that, though. All the begging in the world wouldn’t have been enough to convince her. So he’d gone to Illyria instead, searching every tavern, trading post, and boarding house for a High Fae female matching the description of the one who’d drugged him. 

It had all been in vain. 

The Illyrians had by and large learned to respect him after the war in Hybern, grateful for the sacrifices he’d made to keep those under his command safe even where the fighting was the thickest. Still, obliging and forthcoming weren’t the same thing, and though he was met with less hostility than he might have encountered fifty years ago, no one had been overly eager to answer his questions, either.

Cassian took a large swallow of his drink and sank down on the couch, head in his hands.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Rhys said for the window. “I know you were hoping for answers by now.”

Cassian opened his mouth to ask what he was going to do, but unsure if he could handle hearing the answer, he promptly shut it again.

“How was dinner?” He finally managed.

He didn’t miss the look Rhys and Az traded over his head.

“What?” He demanded.

Azriel sighed.

“Nesta didn’t make it past the third course.”

Cassian fury roared to the surface at this, and he bared his teeth.

“What happened?”

It was Rhys who replied.

“Eris, mostly, though Tamlin certainly wasn’t helping, either.”

Cassian felt his mouth going dry.

“What did they say?”

Rhys winced.

“Jabs about you and her, mostly. I will say, there is a sort of grim pleasure to be had in watching Nesta use that sharp tongue on someone other than myself. She cut Tamlin to pieces in front of his new wife, and if Eris had any shame, she would have laid him low, too.” 

“Tamlin is married?”

Rhys gave a sardonic smile.

“I know. Just giving the bloody title away these days.”

Cassian didn’t return the gesture. That Tamlin—sniveling, cruel Tamlin—had managed to find a wife was a whet stone to his rage. And when Cassian thought of the High Lord seeking to humiliate Nesta the same he’d once done to Feyre, Cassian wanted to shatter something. 

She was his to protect, to defend, and he’d once again failed her. He never should have left, never should have forced her to endure it all alone.

“How is she?” He asked finally.

“Hurting, I think. She misses you, Cass, even if she’s too proud to admit it.”

Cassian blew out a breath, sinking back farther in his chair.

“What am I going to do? The Macarans arrive tomorrow. I’ve lost her.”

“A kihlamine is not a marriage ceremony. The bond could still be broken if the proper proof were presented.”

“And where am I going to find this proof? I’ve been everywhere. The female’s a phantom.”

“You haven’t been to Macar,” Az said quietly. “With Adan and his cadre here, I’ll be able to double the amount of spies in the North. Triple them, even. My gut tells me we’ll find her there.”

“And if we do?”

Azriel’s gaze went cold.

“I rip the skin from her bones until she tells us the truth.”

“What if she isn’t in Macar? What is she really was some traveler, and I really—“

“We will find her,” Rhys interrupted. “I promise. Until then, play your part. The Macarans are more likely to make a mistake if they think they’ve won.”

Cassian ground his teeth with such force he was surprised one of his molars didn’t crack.

“You expect me to participate tomorrow?”

Rhys’s eyes softened even as his expression remained firm.

“It’s the only way, brother.”

“No,” Cassian said. “Never.”

“Now isn’t the time to strike,” Azriel said. “We have to wait for the advantage.”

“In the meantime, we need to behave as if nothing is amiss,” Rhys added. “Besides, how will it look to the Macaran and Bakkarati legions if their Lord Commander is not there? This isn’t just about settling scores with the prince; it’s a battle for Illyria’s soul. I know it’s a lot, but please Cass, just stay the course.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Cassian said, running a hand through is hair.

“Yes,” Rhys said quietly after a moment. “I do.”

Cassian thought again of Amarantha, and of all the pain his friend had been forced to bear these many years in silence.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, and Rhys’s shoulders stiffened.

“For what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“For her.” Cassian couldn’t bear to say the name aloud. “For what she did to you. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. I’m sorry, Rhys.”

Rhys loosed a breath, eyes glittering.

“So am I. I should have had more faith in you. I’m sorry I believed—“

“It’s not your fault,” Cassian said, bowing his head.

“We’ll set it right,” Azriel said.

“And Macar?” Cassian asked. “We might be heading for the very war we’ve been avoiding. There are rumors, you know. I heard them while I was in Illyria: that Adan is the Babasiz Prens; the one meant to unite all the tribes under a single banner.”

“The Prince of Bastards,” Azriel snorted with disgust. “It’s an Illyrian superstition. There will never be a united Illyria; not in a hundred lifetimes.”

Cassian wasn’t nearly so convinced. He’d heard the way Illyrians were whispering Adan’s name from Marmaris to the far north shores. Besides, if the last several months were any indication, the Mother had a very cruel sense of humor.

“If they’re right about him, removing him will be next to impossible,” he said, running a hand through his hair again.

“And if we’re right about him, we will be saving Illyria from the rule of a tyrant,” Rhys pointed out. “We will find a way to set it all right, I promise. Get some rest, Cass. We all have a big day ahead of us.”

Cassian nodded, draining his glass before rising to his feet. He bid his brothers good night and headed to his usual chambers, intent on drinking until he could forget. Still, he felt himself being called down an unfamiliar staircase. He knew where it must lead, and he warred with himself on whether he dared go there while he was feeling so wretched. However, his feet kept moving, and when he saw the door—felt her scent twining around him—he couldn’t resist.

Placing a scarred palm against the wood, he whispered, “Nesta. Are you awake?”

There was no answer, and though he hadn’t actually expected one, his heart ached. Resting his forehead on the oak panel, he forced himself on, knowing he had to say the words even if it killed him.

“I know you’re still angry with me, and I don’t blame you.”

More silence. Cassian grit his teeth, trying to swallow the lump in his throat as he pressed on.

“And I know you won’t believe me, but I didn’t betray you, Nes. At least, not willingly. I had hoped to have proof by now, to show you, but—“

 He broke off, swallowing thickly.

“I don’t,” he admitted, fingers pressing into the wood of the door to keep himself from reaching for the handle. “The only thing I have is this: that I love you, Nesta Archeron. I have loved you since the first moment I saw you, and I will love you until I am dust and ashes. If you believe nothing else, please Nesta, believe that.”

Again there was no answer, but a soft rustling told him she was at least awake. He rested his forehead against the door, taking a shuddering breath. 

He swore he could scent her just other side of it, listening to every word. Tentatively, he reached though bond and felt her there, the bridge no longer so cold and dark. She was still too far to touch, but somehow he knew she was there, watching him.

He withdrew with a shuddering breath. It was enough. 

For now, he had to let it be enough.

“Te cакам,” he murmured, giving the door a final stroke before pushing away from it. It was an effort of will to move away from the door, but he forced himself to do it. Forced himself not to listen for her as he retreated down the hall and out of sight.

xx

Nesta didn’t speak a word as the twins dressed her the next day, replaying Cassian’s words in her mind as she stared down her reflection in the mirror.

I love you. If you believe nothing else, believe that. 

It didn’t matter, she tried to tell herself as the Nuala dusted gold powder on her cheeks and Cerridwen lined her eyes with kohl. Whatever she and Cassian had once shared, it was in a different lifetime. Nesta was sworn to Adan now, and she would see that vow through even if it killed her. 

For Elain, she told herself as the twins tightened her corset, enough she could barely breathe. For Feyre, she intoned as they gave her heavy earrings and an even heavier tiara. For the baby, and for the peace her father had died to give them. For them, anything. For them, everything.

She was drawn from her reverie by Cerridwen’s cool hand on her shoulder.

“Your gown, my lady,” she said, gesturing to where it had been laid out on the bed.

Nesta nodded, accepting Nuala’s help to stand as they began easing her into it. It was black, fitted through the sleeves and jeweled bodice before billowing out at the hips into a sea of silk nearly double the width of Nesta’s slim waist. The gown trailed a good six feet behind her as well, and weighed enough that Nesta wasn’t sure how she’d manage to walk in it. Still, the effect was undeniable. When she looked into the glass when the twins had finished, she hardly recognized the woman staring back.

No, not a woman, she realized, or even a female. 

A şezhana.

There was a knock at the door as Nesta eased into the heeled slippers, and she gestured for Nuala to open it.

She was surprised to find the Shadowsinger there, his face expressionless as he drank her in.

“You too?” She snapped in greeting. She wasn’t sure she could stomach another plaintive speech reminding her she didn’t have to go through with it. “My sisters have grown desperate indeed if they’re sending you here to beg their case.”

“I’m not here to beg,” Azriel said. “Or to ask you if you’re sure. I know the measure your resolve.”

Nesta looked away, hating how much of Adan she could see in his strong Macaran features.

“Why have you come, then?”

The Darkbringer horns outside began to sound, heralding the late hour. Azriel didn’t move at hearing them, just stared at Nesta with unyielding focus.

“I came to tell you that you are not alone.”

Nesta spine stiffened, but he continued, tone cold and smooth as marble. Still, there was something in his eyes...

“During your kihlamine, and after, wherever that may be. One of my people will be with you. Always.”

His gaze met hers, and she saw a flash of the male her sister so loved, the one buried beneath all the ice.

“And if you should ever need me, I will come. You have my word.”

“Why?” Nesta found herself saying, throat dry.

He cocked his head slightly, as if considering. Finally, he spoke.

“Because there is a light inside you, Nesta Archeron, much as you like to hide it. I will not see the Macarans extinguish it.”

Nesta’s eyes burned. She wasn’t often at a loss for words, but this promise—so simple and frank—assuaged a fear she hadn’t fully acknowledged she’d been harboring.

“Thank you,” she said softly. 

The Shadowsinger only nodded, offering his arm.

“Are you ready? It’s time.”

She nodded, accepting the gesture if for no other reason than she didn’t have a choice; the gown was unwieldy, and she was having trouble keeping the skirt from underfoot.

Azriel said nothing of her struggle as they exited the suite, waiting patiently for her to master the satin beast before leading her to a dais overlooking a grand courtyard.

All seven High Lords were already assembled, each decked in the full splendor of their courts.

 Kallias, the farthest from her, wore an artic blue doublet, a crown of diamonds fashioned to resemble shards of ice sitting on his brow. Thesan stood behind him in a tunic the color of red dawn, his peregryn guard behind. Helion wore the same white robes he’d wore the first time Nesta had met him, the upright serpent twisted around his arm and the corona of golden rays atop his head. Tarquin’s surcoat was a shade not unlike Kallias’s, though were the former’s was icy, the latter’s was rich, like the azure waters of his territory.

Tamlin and Eris she both ignored, not watching to give them indication their comments the previous evening had found their marks. 

Rhysand and the rest of their court were gathered as well, and Nesta forced herself to smile at both her sisters and squeeze their hands as they all fell into position, Azriel melting from her side to stand to Rhysand’s left.

Nesta didn’t have the courage to look at Cassian even though she sensed his presence. She was feeling brittle enough as it was, and when she remembered his declaration the night before—

She suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

“Are you alright?” Feyre said from her side. 

“This gown is very tight,” Nesta managed, forcing her pulse to slow with a caress of her deadly power.

“We can loosen—“

“It’s fine Feyre,” Nesta said. “Please, don’t fuss.”

Feyre nodded, and they returned to their vigil, waiting for the Illyrians to arrive.

“I see your vassals have adopted their master’s insolence,” Helion said to Rhys, shifting on his feet as they all waited. “Your princeling is late.”

Rhys smirked. 

“Did you have somewhere else you’d rather be? I thought you loved my Illyrian males.”

Helion chuckled, even as the others seem to bristle. 

No one else spoke as the minutes stretched on, the only sound the snapping the Nightbringers’ banners and the shifting of Peregryn wings. Still, Nesta could feel the tension on the dais rising.

From her right, she saw a flash of silver-tipped ivory as Tamlin’s claws slid from his knuckles before retracting and sliding back out. Beside him, Eris’s hand had strayed to the pommel of his saber, his caramel eyes flicking skyward every several seconds. 

To her left, however, Rhysand and the Illyrians stood still as statues. Rhysand was dressed in Night Court finery, as beautiful and ornate as anything the other High Lords wore. However, Cassian and Azriel were both in full Illyrian battle regalia, each bearing a curved sword at either hip. They even wore silver hoops in their ears, a symbol of high Illyrian military rank Nesta had never seen either of them indulge in before. 

She tried to look away from the formidable tableau the three of them made, the High Lord and his Illyrians, but she found her gaze snagging on Cassian’s profile as he stared straight ahead. His hair had been drawn back into three plaits along the top and sides of his head, and it bared his face in a way that made him even more handsome and fierce. He looked exactly as she’d remembered him on the battlefield in Hybern, and it made her heart thunder in her chest.

I have no regrets in my life, save this. 

I love you. If you believe nothing else, believe that.

As if sensing her gaze, he turned to look at her. His brows knotted as he studied her expression, and she quickly turned away, the heavy diamond and onyx earrings she wore jangling as she did. Given the pledge she was just about to make, she couldn’t afford to give him any indication she was less sure than she seemed. The die was cast, and no matter the cost—

A distant rumble sounded, and everyone looked skyward, tensing slightly.

“Is it going to rain?” Céres asked, her fingers digging into Tamlin’s jacket at the hip. “There are no clouds.”

Tamlin wrapped an arm behind him to pull her closer as the others tensed.

“That’s not thunder,” Kallias said, trading a glance with Viviane. Thesan’s Peregryn shifted into a more defensive stance as the sound grew louder. 

“What—“ Céres began.

A gutteral war horn reverberated through the air, following by the tell-tale boom of Illyrian bone drums. It was a sound that Nesta still heard in her nightmares, and she felt a trail of cold sweating slithering down her spine.

“Whatever you do,” Rhys said quietly from beside her. “Try not to show any fear. Adan will consider it an insult.”

Before she could snap a retort, the Illyrians themselves appeared, falling from the sky like an obsidian rain. They landed in succession, lining the walkway below the dais and banging their spears against their shields in thunderous rhythm. 

A moment later, the chanting began. 

Nesta could feel the great drums beating in her very bones, and she straightened, determined not to lose her nerve.

“What are they saying?” She asked quietly, eyes still cast out over the assembly.

“An ode,” Rhysand murmured. “To the eternal glory of Illyria. And a warning to those who would cross it.”

All at once the chanting and the drums stopped, the silence deafening as they all waited, breathless. Then somewhere a great horn blew, an the drums began again in a less frenzied beat that echoed in time with the horn as it continued its low, measured hum.

Two riders appeared at the end of the aisle, both helmeted and riding fully-armored destriers.

“I thought Illyrians didn’t ride,” Tarquin said. 

“Evidentially, they do,” Helion said. “Which is your prince, Rhys?”

Nesta studied the riders, once bearing emerald syphons, the other amethyst. Lazar and the Lieutenant Na’afeh.

“Neither,” Rhysand said, sounding somewhat bemused. “Though he does seem to love making a spectac—“

There was a terrible shriek, and they looked up the see an asgyir descending towards the ground, its wings beating in time with its rider’s.

“Gods be damned,” Lucien murmured when the beast let out another piercing cry just its hooves touched the ground, head tossing as it fought the bit in its mouth. 

Its rider beat their wings to steady the landing, pulling the creature this way and that to keep it from taking flight again. 

He wore an ornate helmet, his face obscured by a bronze mask sculpted to resemble his features. Two large rams horns curled from the back of his head, and he truly looked like on of the Old Gods; the ones ever Stryga had the Carver would have worshipped.

The agsyir reared again, and Nesta felt Adan’s attention on her has he wheeled the beast towards the Dias. The soldiers lining Adan’s path began to stamp their feet in time with the heavy drums, and Nesta could hear the Peregryns’ wings shifting in nervous agitation behind her.

Eris snorted as Adan continued his approach. 

“Good luck, princess.”

Nesta bristled. 

Enough of this, her pride snarled. She was Nesta Archeron, thief of the great Cauldron and slayer of the King of Hybern. She would not be cowed by this display, impressive though it was. She let the lingering fear—the memories of the Illyrian dead and dying—filter through her before pushing the notion aside. If Adan wanted to make a spectacle, she would give him one in return.

Nesta willed her heart to slow as she dragged at her power, drawing it up like water from a dark well. It made her palm itch and her eyes burn, but she ignored it, focusing on the frothing asgyir instead.

She felt her power slithering from her body like a python from a branch, silent as it sought its quarry. It took her a minute to find the beast’s pulse under the beating of the drums, but finally she felt it, thundering like a tempest.

She struck, wrapping her power around creature’s life-force and beginning to squeeze.

The asgyir reared with a shriek, but Adan managed to keep his hold on the reins as he called a command and the creature steadied. 

Nesta tightened her grip, and the beast careened half a step to the left, nearing knocking into Lazar’s horse before finding its balance. Still, Nesta could feel it’s pulse slowing under her insidious grip. It stumbled several steps to the right this time, eyes rolling back in its head as it fought her.

Nesta grit her teeth against the strain, raising a clenched first to keep her power from slipping. 

“Witch,” Tamlin breathed, but Nesta didn’t relent.

“If Adan wishes to play at power, perhaps he requires a lesson in what real power looks like.”

The asgyir keeled sideways like a drunken sailor, and Adan had to beat his own wings to keep from being toppled. 

It was no use. As Nesta squeezed her fist tight enough for her long nails to dig into her palms, the beast screamed, stumbling to its knees. Adan only had time to leap off the creature as it slumped to the cobblestones, alive but unconscious.

Nesta could feel Adan’s eyes on her even though the mask as he glanced up to the dais, and she lowered her fist slowly. Let him see, she thought. Let him see her power and despair.

However, if the felling of his wicked beast bothered Adan, he didn’t show it. As soon as he was back in his feet, Lazar and Lieutenant Na’afeh were at his side. Adan tugged off the helmet as he sauntered forward, handing it to Lazar as the three of them knelt, bowing their heads. 

All seven of the High Lords had loosened their grip on their powers, and Nesta could smell the bloom of fresh Spring flowers and hear the phantom rustle of an Autumnal breeze, taste the bite of snow on her tongue and feel the warmth of dawn’s rays warming her skin . However, it was darkness of Rhysand’s power that ruled over all the rest, and it poured from him like waves of heat, obsidian mist cascading down the dais steps until Adan and the others were nearly buried up to their shoulders.

However, none of them moved, heads still bent as their waited for their High Lord’s permission to rise.

Instead of addressing them, Rhysand turned to look at Cassian. The latter gave a solemn nod before breaking from where he’d stood behind Feyre and descending the steps. The Illyrian foot soldiers all came to attention as he approached, their heads bowed in deference as they pressed their fists to their hearts.

The Lord of Bloodshed. That’s who Cassian was as he made his way to Adan. Greater than any mere prince or warlord. The best of them, in title and in deed. Indeed, even with his nine syphons Adan seemed a boy next to the dreaded Lord Commander, because while the prince may have had power, Cassian was power.

Cassian finally reached where the prince knelt, and after something in murmured Illyrian Adan rose to his feet, a hand to his chest in the same deferential gesture his soldiers had given. Cassian cuffed him on the shoulder before pressing his brow to Adan’s, so close they were nose to nose. It was an old Illyrian greeting Nesta had seen used before, meant to symbolize the meeting of two equals.

She watched as they exchanged words, and she felt as if she were watching her future and her past colliding, what was versus what might have been. The male she was sworn to, and the male she—

It was Cassian who finally pulled away, face stony even as he gestured the rest of the Illyrians at ease with a flick of his wrist. He turned to survey the veritable army Adan had brought with him for the ceremony, hazel eyes keen as if he meant to mark every single face down the the last soldier. 

His eyes moved over the crowd before seeming to snag. He stiffened, and Nesta felt a spike of oily wrongness slithering down her spine as Cassian’s wings twitched slightly. The feeling was unexpectedly intrusive, and her mouth watered as she fought down bile. 

However, but it was gone before she could think to fully question it. Adan and Cassian were ascending the dais now shoulder-to-shoulder, and she tried to keep her breathing as she met Adan’s dark gaze. His expression was the same as it had been the last time she’d seemed him, eager and edged.

When she glanced at Cassian, however, she felt her blood go cold. His face was blank but his eyes blazed, and she felt a stab of ire course through her, so cold it burned. Whatever mental door that had been opened between them the previous evening seemed to have been blasted off its hinges, and Nesta could feel his anger almost as if it were her own. It was violent enough that she nearly swayed on her feet, and she had to fight to maintain a neutral expression as Adan approached, falling to his knees before the leaders of Prythian.

“My Lords,” he said. “It is an honor.”

They gazed down at him with hard eyes, each trying to assess just how much power it was that knelt before them now. Nesta felt the wash of each other their magics, potent enough to make one sick as they eddied together. 

Still, Nesta found herself struggling to tear her focus from Cassian, whose thundered heartbeat she could still hear bounding in time with her own. She grit her teeth, fighting to tear herself from the whirlpool of his essence. She couldn’t give in to the temptation to abandon herself to it, not with Adan within scenting range—

She forced her gaze back to the prince in time to find Rhysand silently ordering Adan to his feet, arms wide as he announced, “Welcome, Adan Demir-Macar, to the Hewn City.”

xx

Cassian could barely catch his breath as Rhys made the customary overtures, his vision going red at the edges. 

He’d seen her, tucked among the crowd of Macaran gentry.

It had only been for a moment, but he knew it was her. He would know that face—those dark eyes—anywhere; he still saw them in his nightmares, could still feel them raking his bare skin as he’d struggled to get dressed the next morning. 

He couldn’t breathe. After months spent scouring the territory to no avail, she was here, in the Hewn City.

And she was traveling in the Şehzade’s revenue.

Next Time on Like a Lonely House...

Cassian watched as Elain pretended to stumble, sending an unsuspecting Céres sprawling backwards—

And straight into Lazar.

Surprised, he grabbed her around the waist to keep her from falling to the floor, turning his back to the female in question as he did.

It was enough. In an instant Azriel had disappeared from Cassian's side, reappearing as nothing more than a long shadow behind where the female stood, watching the exchange with frightened eyes. Cassian's heart thundered as they both vanished.

By now Tamlin was there, an abashed Céres scuttling behind him as he wrapped a protective arm around her and snarled at the younger Illyrian.

"How dare you," Tamlin began.

Lazar put his hands up, bronze skin paling at the teeth Tamlin now had mere inches from his throat.

"I haven't done anything!"

He looked somewhat helplessly to Rhys as he approached.

"My Lord, please!"

Rhys clicked his tongue as he surveyed the scene with dispassion.

"Oh Lazar, you do like to make trouble, don't do?"

"I swear, My Lord, she fell into me!"

Tamlin snarled.

"You had your hands all over her!"

"Lazar, what's going on?"

Adan appeared at his cousin's side, subtly inserting himself between the Tamlin and the younger male.

"I'm afraid Lazar's found himself in a bit of trouble," Rhys purred, eyes glittering behind the mask of the cruel High Lord Cassian had seen him wear so many times before. "He seems rather good at that."

Cassian heard Rhys speaking in his mind, voice markedly less amused.

Azriel has her in the dungeon. Be discreet. Make sure you aren't seen, and don't be gone too long. I'll keep Lazar distracted.

Cassian needed no prompting. Casting a final look to ensure to assure the Illyrians were suitably occupied, he slipped into a shadow and out into the hall.

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[thebluemartini]

Far From the Shallow - Chapter 8 [Nessian Fic]

TITLE: Far From the Shallow SYNOPSIS: Post-ACOFAS. As part of a deal with Feyre, Nesta has agreed to live with Cassian in the Illyrian Mountains. However, shortly after her arrival, she receives the startling news that she’s pregnant from one of her one-night stands. While she tries to quickly get a grip on her life, Cassian’s determined to make her see that she’s not facing this alone.

FIC LENGTH: Multi-chapter (Total Chapter Estimate: 14)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

TAGGING: @dreaming-of-bohemian-nights @queenofillea1 @trash-for-nessian @nestaarcheronwillkillme @my-fan-side @strangeenemy @maastrash @cageddovepoetry @bybooksanddreams @lilbat90 @ritamordio19 @mastercommandercaptain @feysand-dot-acotar @archeron-queen @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @empress-ofbloodshed @there-is-warmth-in-winter @mybbyfeyre @saltydreamcollector @justlikethecheshirecat @mis-lil-red @supebowlere @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @everything-that-i-love @sezkins79 @hashtolanashoba

*This chapter is also posted on AO3 and FF. ________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 8: March - Part I

The week leading up to the Rite had been a peculiar one.

Even though she didn’t ignore Cassian or avoid him completely, Nesta had seemed distant. Instead of eating meals with him, she’d ask him to save her food for later, claiming she was tired and needed to take a nap. It seemed understandable that she would be exhausted considering her pregnancy, but even when they did converse, her words seemed stiff and brief, completely unlike the natural and easy-going conversations they had had before he decided to go through with the Blood Rite.

Following their dinner with the Illyrians, he had hoped Nesta would sleep beside him in his bed again. He even went so far as to attempt to ask her to come and keep the nightmares away, but she brushed him off before he could finish asking his question.

For him, nightmares of undergoing his previous Blood Rite raged on. He wasn’t sure if Nesta had heard his groans and screams during the night, but she never visited him.

Cassian told himself not to dwell on it and instead stay focused on his upcoming challenge, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Nesta’s words and actions. Insisting he do the Rite without trying to come up with a solution or discussing her feelings about his options was disheartening. Did she care at all that there was a high chance he would die during the Rite? And now, she was hardly talking to him nor spending time with him during what could be the last days of his life.

Of course, he was determined to succeed and prove himself as an Illyrian General Commander. He was confident in his skills, but he was still well aware of the risks and what the angered Illyrians could do to fool him, especially when they didn’t have to concern themselves with reaching the top of Ramiel. Their only goal was to kill him.

Rhys was pissed when Cassian told him about the Rite during his visit to Velaris the day after the dinner, wondering why Cassian would make such a hasty decision without talking to him first. He toyed with the idea of using his power to demand the special Rite to be cancelled. But Cassian figured it would’ve only angered them more, and a war would certainly break out.

Cassian spent the week training on his own, without using his wings or any weapons. He’d go out into the woods to search for things in nature that he might find during the Rite and practiced using those to defend himself.

Last time, him and his brothers had each other to get through it together. This time, he wouldn’t have anyone to help him through it.

As he finished packing up various meats and vegetables that he cooked that day and placed them within the ice chest, he heard a shuffling behind him. He turned around to find Nesta standing in the kitchen, looking startled to see him.

“I...didn’t think you’d still be awake,” she said. “I thought you’d be getting as much rest as you could before the Rite.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight because of it...especially not with the nightmares I’ve been having this week,” Cassian revealed.

Nesta did not reply as she stepped toward the table to grab some fruit from the bowl. She didn’t even ask about his nightmares. Didn’t even express concern.

“What are you doing up?” Cassian asked.

 “The baby started kicking, and I was craving a late night snack,” she answered before taking a bite out of the pear she was holding.

Cassian leaned back against the sink. “I just cooked some food this evening and put it in the ice chest so you have meals for all this week,” Cassian explained. “All you’ll have to do is reheat them.”

Nesta paused eating her pear and looked at him strangely. He couldn’t read what she was thinking.

“I’ve also asked Emerie to stay here as a precaution, just in case there’s any trouble with the Illyrians,” Cassian added.

Nesta simply nodded before turning around to head out of the kitchen.

“Listen,” Cassian began, causing her to halt her steps. “If I...don’t return...I’ve left some magical parchment here on the table. All you have to do is write on it, and Feyre and Rhys will receive the message on the parchment they have on the desk in their study immediately.”

“Okay,” Nesta stated apathetically before walking away.

________________________________________________________________

Cassian awoke before the sun rose the next morning.

He had managed to get some sleep during the night, but it wasn’t entirely peaceful or satisfying. The nightmares shockingly stayed away, but he spent most of the night agonizing over Nesta.

Did she really not care that he might not return?

The thought brought an ache to his chest that didn’t leave him throughout the night.

Despite her attitude, he also couldn’t help but fret over what would happen to Nesta and the baby if he died.

Would she finally tell her sisters about the pregnancy then? Would she go to them for help? Would Nesta remember to feed herself and remain healthy?

After he put on his Illyrian leathers, he slowly made his way downstairs to Nesta’s bedroom.

With a deep breath, he lightly knocked on her door.

“Come in,” she called out, and Cassian opened the creaky door to find her laying in bed, staring right at him.

“I’m off to meet Devlon to take me to the starting point of the Rite,” he announced grimly.

Nesta looked at him blankly, then proceeded to turn her body away from him and cuddled within her blankets. “Don’t die,” she simply stated.

This whole week, Cassian had felt hurt by Nesta’s careless attitude. But now...he couldn’t help but let anger boil within him.

“That’s it?” he questioned her irritably. He shook his head in disbelief. “After everything we’ve been through together the past few months, all you have to say is ‘don’t die’? This could be the last time we see each other,” he shouted. “Or have you actually been hoping to be rid of me this entire time? And that’s why you insisted I do the Rite so quickly and now don’t even bother to talk to me. You’re no longer required to get along with me if I won’t be living much longer. Is that it?”

Nesta remained turned away from him and didn’t move at all. “Goodbye,” she said firmly.

There was no denial.

She didn’t fight back on any of his points.

Cassian heaved a sigh of frustration. “I can’t believe I…” he trailed off as he ran a hand through his hair.

Slamming her bedroom door behind him, he stormed out of her room and out of the cabin.

________________________________________________________________

“All of us leaders here are challenging you to a special Blood Rite.”

Nesta didn’t realize that hearing such a sentence could strike her so deeply, until she heard it.

It felt like everything surrounding her and Cassian - whatever they were at this point - came to a screeching halt.

Up until then, Nesta had started daydreaming about what life would be like when the baby was born. Living in Cassian’s cabin, laying down the baby to sleep each night in the crib Cassian had constructed, cradling the baby in her arms as he or she cried in the middle of the night with Cassian up with her, Cassian preparing food for the baby as well as spoon-feeding the baby with her…

Cassian was a part of all of those daydreams. They never had discussed how exactly he intended to help her with raising the baby, but those moments came to mind whenever Nesta had let her mind wander.

And then she’d also occasionally visualize the moments where the baby would smile and laugh and roll over for the first time. Even just the thought of it happening made her feel full of bliss. She’d picture Cassian sharing her bliss beside her when these moments occurred, leading her daydream to conclude with her kissing Cassian.

Her attraction to him still terrified her, but she found herself incapable of visualizing herself raising her child without him. When he insinuated to Devlon that he was the father of her child, she caught her heart racing out of excitement.

But the one camp leader’s words at dinner that night quickly turned her dreams and hopes for the future into a puff of smoke.

When the Illyrian leaders revealed that Cassian would need to perform a special Blood Rite to prove himself worthy as the General Commander, Nesta knew he would have to do it.

And it nearly destroyed her inside that this meant she could lose him.

But this was something he needed to do. If they could prevent a war, if he could make changes within the Illyrian camps for the better in time, then of course he had to do it.

Even if part of her selfishly wanted him to step away from being General Commander, just because she didn’t want him to die. She wanted him to be...with her.

But that wouldn’t have been true to Cassian’s nature. He always boldly fought for what he believed in and was determined to help those in need. He wasn’t the type to simply step aside and let people fend for themselves. It wasn’t in his nature to give up.

He certainly didn’t give up on her.

He still helped her during her pregnancy, no matter how poorly she had treated him at times.

Even though the majority of the Illyrians despised him, he was determined to improve the camps. They were his people after all. He had to do it for the sake of his mother.

So she had insisted he do the Rite.

But the thought of him dying during the Rite nearly drowned her, so she forced herself to distance herself from him and pretend she felt nothing at all for him the week before the Rite. She feigned exhaustion so she would hardly have to talk to him during the week with the hopes of being able to forget about him and the way he cared for her.

If she could just detach herself from Cassian, then she would feel nothing if he perished during the Rite.

But one week proved it wasn’t enough time for Nesta to detach herself from Cassian.

While trying to distance herself from him, she found doing so made her feel worse. She could tell she was hurting him, and in turn, it hurt her.

Hurting people with her words and actions was always what she did best, unfortunately.

When she heard his screams from his nightmares throughout the week, it took every ounce of strength to resist going to him and to ignore the desire to sleep beside him.

And when he had just now come to say goodbye, she had to turn away because tears were flowing from her eyes. She couldn’t allow him to see how much it pained her to see him go.

With every anger-fueled, pounding step he took to leave her room, it felt like her heart broke into a million pieces. More tears flowed out of her eyes, and she could not stop them.

If he really did die this week...she began to sob at the thought of her dreams and hopes disappearing forever.

As she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, she realized she couldn’t let it end like this. He had to know how much the past several months had meant to her.

Rapidly peeling the covers off of her body, she moved as quickly as she could to get off of the bed and bolted to the entryway of the cabin, where she clumsily and quickly put on her boots and coat.

She didn’t even take the time to button up her jacket or tie up the laces of her boots. She needed to reach him before it was too late.

Opening the front door, she ran out onto the platform and scanned the surrounding area for him. The sun hadn’t risen yet, making it harder to see. Through the lightly falling snow, she spotted him in the distance, walking in the direction of the center of the camp.

“I DON’T WANT THIS AT ALL,” she yelled with ferocity as she waddled across the platform and stepped down onto the snowy ground. Her shout stopped him in his tracks, and he turned around to look at her.

Her pregnant belly made it difficult to run. She must’ve looked ridiculous as she waddled in Cassian’s direction. When he saw her coming, however, he must have noticed her difficulties and strode toward her instead. Nesta stopped moving and waited for him to approach.

When he reached her, he stood right in front of her and crossed his arms against his chest. “Then what do you want?” he barked.

“You, you fool,” she spat before putting her hands on the sides of his face and yanked his head toward herself to press her lips against his.

It seemed like it was a shock to him, causing him to freeze in place. The kiss was fierce and quick, with Nesta pulling away because of Cassian’s lack of response.

But before she could dwell on his reaction, Cassian quickly reached out to frame her face with his hands and pulled her closer again to kiss her passionately.

This kiss was substantially longer than the previous one, with each of them seemingly unable to get enough of the other. Their lips never left the other’s as Cassian weaved his hands through her unbound hair and she wrapped her hands around his neck to keep him close.

Reluctantly, Nesta pulled her lips away from his to look down at her stomach. The baby was suddenly very active.

It seemed Cassian could feel it too as her stomach was pressed up against him. He chuckled as he placed a hand on her stomach. With his other hand, he gripped her chin to tilt her head back up to him.

“How can you expect me to leave now?” he voiced softly with a hint of a sad smile.

“You have to,” Nesta stated seriously. “For your people. For your mother. But you also must come back,” she pleaded. “Come back to this. Come back to us.”

Nesta placed one of her hands over Cassian’s hand that rested on her stomach. “We need you,” she whispered.

“If I don’t make -” Cassian began to say but was quickly cut off.

“Don’t even say that. You will make it back. You will,” Nesta insisted as the tears came streaming out of her eyes.

Cassian brought his hands up to her face and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “But if I don’t,” he continued gravely. “I’ve left my will with Rhys, and I’ve -”

“Stop talking about this! I don’t care about that!” she interjected.

“But I’ve left you -”

“Stop! We’re not talking about this!”

Cassian sighed and shook his head as he continued wiping away her tears. “You are so stubborn,” he remarked. “But there’s one thing I must tell you now, just in case...and I don’t want you to say anything back. I don’t want you to feel pressured to,” he said before taking a deep breath and staring directly into her eyes. “But I need you to know that I am in love with you, Nesta Archeron.”

Nesta couldn’t control the additional tears that sprung from her eyes. The fact that he admitted he loved her struck her deeply.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his torso and buried her face in his chest, letting her tears run onto his leathers. Cassian didn’t seem to mind as he placed his arms around her, hugging her to him and kissing the top of her head.

“I’m sorry I pretended I didn’t care,” she whimpered. “I didn’t want to face it. I - ”

“Shh, it’s okay. We’re okay now,” he murmured as he kissed the top of her head again. “It’s almost dawn,” he lamented.

Dawn. The time he had to meet Devlon.

Slowly, she unwound herself from him and stepped back. While she didn’t want to leave his side, she reminded herself that he had to do this.

She wasn’t ready to admit if she was in love with him, but she had to let him know somehow how deeply she cared for him…

“I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you in the next world - the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.”

Cassian’s words to her on the battlefield in the war against Hybern replayed in her mind. It had been nearly two years since they almost died together, and all they had done was waste the time they were given.

“When you return,” she emphasized. “I don’t want to waste anymore time,” she whispered.

“We won’t waste anymore time,” he replied earnestly in agreement, clearing knowing exactly what she was referring to.

Cassian suddenly got down on both of knees on the snowy ground before her and pushed the flaps of her jacket to her sides as he leaned his head forward to place a kiss on the fabric of her nightgown that covered her stomach. “Take care of your mother, little one,” he murmured.

Nesta rested her hands on the sides of his head as he remained kneeled on the ground and placed another kiss to her stomach.

Turning his head up to face her, he gave her the look before jumping to his feet, taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply. He slowly pulled away, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth as he did so, which left her feeling breathless.

“I love you, Nes,” he said quietly. He ran his hands through her hair, and when they reached the ends, he stepped away from her with a sad look in his eyes. “I will do everything I can to come back to you. To both of you.”

She needed to get this over with. It was too painful.

“Goodbye, Cassian,” she breathed with one last long look at him to commit him to memory. Then she turned around to head back into the cabin, unable to bear watching him walk away. As she did so, she heard the crunch of the snow from Cassian’s boots as he strode away. 

When she was inside the cabin, she leaned back against the door and crumbled to the ground as she cried. 

 _______________________________________________________________

A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter than the previous ones...but hopefully you didn't mind the content! :) It seemed like the best place to end this chapter to allow you to relish in this a bit because we somehow still have like 6 chapters of drama to go... ;)

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged!

---> CHAPTER 9

[maevelin]

Do you not like how the pregnancy plot was used in acofas as a plot or because you feel that babies don't belong to that universe?

Well I do feel that concepts of immortality don’t go very well with pregnancy tropes but it depends on how a universe truly works and how a writer makes it work. In the ACoTaR universe it is established that even though pregnancy is not an easy thing to happen it is not an impossibility. And given the established population and the familial relationships we have seen this is not out of the norm for this world and the concept of immortality does have its limitations obviously.

My problem was how this was used as a plot and how it affected the female character. We had Feyre making a big deal about certain things in the trilogy and in ACoFaS, things that mattered to her characterization but ultimately were negated by default. This is what happens with SJM’s writing and it couldn’t be more obvious in ACoFaS. 

For example we get the story of the weaver lady in ACoFaS right? We have the void and the hope that inspired Feyre and I was staring at what I was reading wondering if SJM actually forgot what she wrote in ACoWaR because what she was doing was so contradictory. She aimed for the profound message and I was there rolling my eyes because SHE MADE SURE FOR THAT TO NOT FREAKING COUNT.

So Feyre understands the weaver’s loss and decides to have a child because in case that Rhysand would die like the weaver’s mate did she would not have anything left to remember him by and I was like…anyone remembers the suicide pact? The weaver lady was indeed someone to lead an example and was strong and kept on living and grieved and mourned but did not let that grief destroy her and she found hope in the darkness and ultimately was everything Feyre was not. If anything that story line highlighted the weakness of the main characters. We had the survivors of the war and the attack, people that lost their beloved ones and kept on living and turned on their High Lords for support but if we place that mirror against Feyre and Rhysand what do we get in return? They would never be like those people would they? Because when push would come to shove they would just quit life because they wouldn’t be able to handle the loss. It is just so problematic. Too much love is poison indeed as Rhysand has once said. It turns ugly. And it tainted what SJM was trying to preach in ACoFaS. The weaver was admirable for sure. We didn’t see her taking her life because she lost the love of her life did we? No. And Feyre was inspired by this and made it a big deal when the message SJM promoted in the previous book about her female lead was…if the one you love dies go on an die with them. 

So can anyone explain to me using simple logic what was the point of Feyre deciding to have a child so to have something of Rhysand when with their pact the only thing left would be an orphan child without having anything to remember their parents by because they were idiots and committed suicide because they formed a completely toxic codependent relationship?

The weaver plot with the tapestry and the gift and all that leading to Feyre’s decision were literally completely pointless because SJM made them be pointless by default. How is that a motivation for Feyre when she does not have to worry about it given the moronic bargain she made with her mate? And how is it possible that at no point her mind actually made that connection? A bargain mind you that was created in a post traumatic period for both Feyre and Rhysand and the writer made it all seem ‘romantic’? And how did that tie in in ACoFaS? There was no logic or consistency and it really cheapened the whole thing. It would work with how things were presented in ACoWaR up to a point. If SJM had stopped before that pact in the end it would actually be one of the few saving graces of the book. If she knew where to stop that is. With Rhysand’s intentions for self sacrifice for example while he wanted to ensure Feyre’s survival even in the expense of his own life. This was his goal, this was his motivation. For those he loved and for Feyre in particular to survive even if he had to die fighting for them and for that endgame. It was heroic, it was noble. It made sense with who Rhysand was revealed to be in ACoMaF. And on the other end I was not expecting anything less from Feyre either. This is what you do when you love someone. You want them to live and have a good life even if you can’t be there. And it would also show that life does not come with guarantees even for immortals so every day is meant to cherished with those you love as if it is the last because it very well could be and there are examples for that. And if one is gone then the other lives on and should live life to the full extent not just for them but also in honor of those that they lost that would live through them. That is how you honor a memory and a love story either it has a happy ending or not. And the plot with the weaver would tie in perfectly with that. Only it doesn’t now does it? Because the last pages of ACoWaR and the closure for Feysand’s story there ensured that. Now going around in circles around that is a parody really. Senseless.

And putting all that aside let us focus on Feyre and the timeline here. Let us see how this baby plot fits in Feyre’s story and all the points ACoMaF had made? One of the best parts of ACoMaF was that it subverted certain tropes only for ACoFaS to come like a badly written fanfiction and demolish all that progress. Everything in this story happened in what? A year? Two? More or less. So in that extremely small amount of time you get a girl that has been through hell and went through extremely traumatic situations that affected her mentally and emotionally and made life changing decisions that contradict everything she seemed to have wanted when she was recovering from depression and PTSD. 

In the end of the day you have a very VERY young inexperienced girl that was deprived of kindness and basic care in her whole life and has gone through some very traumatic events in the span of 2 years that are bound to affect her perception of the world and those that surround her. Someone throws her a crumb of kindness and they become perfect in her eyes to the point she glamorizes them beyond logic because she is starving for affection. She is starving to have a loving family. She is starving to be loved and cherished and appreciated. So she just jumps in. With a guy that is 500 years old. That has lived his life. That is also recovering from severe trauma. This is where their relationship is based on and how it is shaped. They don’t think clearly. They are still healing. They gave themselves no time to even see if their relationship can stand in time (outside the concepts of mates and with having immortality looming over them). And there is nothing wrong with people wanting to get things they have been deprived of and chase those dreams till they would make them come true. But at least in stories we should get the gradual development that would get us there and not an abrupt conclusion that counters the progress that was made - in entire books- and the progress that was used as a central axis for the characterization of the characters.

With Tamlin for example such a future and so soon for Feyre was a nightmarish terror. Even Rhysand made it sound like that when he was trying to show her how restricting such a life was and couldn’t understand the rush of it all. You put the basics of Tamlin’s expectations with what we are seeing with Rhysand and Feyre and if you strip the storylines down to their core you see alarming similarities. Excluding the abuse of course. But in the sense of a certain lifestyle that Feyre abhorred and suddenly lives on ACoFaS but somehow this is a dream coming true now. With Tamlin the exact same thing when Feyre was in love with him was still something she didn’t want and for good reason but in the span of months this changes all of the sudden and with Rhysand it becomes perfection when she has not been able to achieve the dreams she had before. But what about Feyre as a unique personality outside her romantic interests? So the only difference in the end is the male she is so her life is regulated only as her worth is defined as a love interest in the narrative? The world is a big place and Feyre still has no idea of it. She does not even fully understand the concept of her Fae nature and of immortality yet. She has not even experienced or enjoyed what she has with Rhysand and their bond either. Feyre in ACoMaF had said she wanted time. Said she didn’t want to become a decorative piece while the High Lord would be active and she would be there to basically breed children, sign letters and host dinners and have people serving her while she would be there to be the rich wife. Does that -especially after ACoFaS- sound familiar? And her not wanting children in the near future was something that was discussed in ACoMaF and it was a big decision and Rhysand respected it. It gave a certain depth in their relationship but also in Feyre’s character that wanted to grow and mature before she would be a mother and a wife. She wanted time to live, to love, to be herself, to be with Rhysand and so on. She wanted independence and to mature. And here we are so soon after and everything is once more negated. 

Not to mention that this feels manipulative in a way. There is the mate bond that is influencing Feyre’s emotions to a big extent and not to mention that she has  already seen the image of her future son which is also influencing her decisions.

And it is just so… simplistic. To take an interesting plot that was one of the parts that made ACoMaF so successful and to erase it completely for no reason just a few books later. This is a pattern that keeps repeating really. SJM makes a certain point, hypes it and then erases it. So what was the point of making it in the first place? More so when she is planning for an extended universe that will stretch far beyond the original trilogy and she could give this later on in a time frame that would make sense.

And I get it when fans that like a ship want such things for their dream couple. And I mean…this is what fanfiction is for. And on the other end I understand and respect when a writer wants to deliver to the fans what they want. It is a great thing to want to please your fans that have supported you and your writing like this and with so much passion. But I feel that it should not come to the expense of your writing to this degree and I am sure that this could have been handled much better and with a more consistent writing that would make the delivery make sense without being so contradictory, sloppy, and messy. You can honor the fans while still remaining true to the story and what made the characters and their dynamic so alluring to the fans in the first place. Those things don’t have to be mutually exclusive. 

[thebriarpost]

A Small Gift: Chapter 4

Hi! Quick note! So in this story, Elain and Lucien are not mates. It was really throwing off my plan for this! He is still interested in her, but how could he not be.

ELAIN Elain sat at her vanity placing the last flower in her hair. She looked at the small shadow in her lap, twisting through her fingers. “What colour are you thinking today?” Cerridwen asked from Elain’s armoire, moving through dresses. The shadow in her palm twirled up to her ear. “Blue” it whispered. Elain turned in her seat. “Well, the jury has decided” Cerridwen turned from the dresses to look at Elain  “Who has decided my lady?.”  Elain looked down at her hand perplexed, “Can you not hear this?”  She held the shadow up in her palm. “While we may slip into shadow, if it speaks to you, only you may hear it” Nuala answered for her sister. “Oh,” Elain said turning back towards the mirror. “Interesting” she mused to herself.

 Nuala continued; “The ability to communicate with shadows is rare, I wonder what connection you have…” Nuala’s voice faded away, and Elain’s vision became hazy until everything was black. Suddenly, a pair of boots running up stairs came into sight. A hand covered in shadow reaching towards a door. Then she could see herself, she was pulling her arms through a blue dress. As quickly as the vision came; it was gone again, and she was back to her room. “Are you all right?” Nuala asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. Elain blinked twice - coming back to her surroundings. “Yes, just nonsense. It meant nothing” Elain gave her a reassuring smile in the mirror.  

AZRIEL Azriel stepped to the side at the last minute to miss Cassian’s blade. Pulling his own up to block his next blow. “Where is your head?” Cassian asked. Taking a step back and putting his sword back into its scabbard. He was right, Azriel couldn’t focus. Maybe giving Elain that shadow was a mistake because now he didn’t want to be anywhere she wasn’t. “Sorry, my head is just somewhere else” Azriel replied putting away his blade as well. They walked back to the main tents. No new attacks, no further information. Everything seemed calm for the moment. Azriel knew nothing good came from calm. As they entered two Illyrians stood from the table “There is news” said the older of the two. “Some soldiers from Arion’s camp were captured in a nearby town.”   The younger interjected. “They have agreed to give us information and draw us plans of Arion’s camp in exchange for their lives” He set papers down on the table.  Cassian picked them up and began to look through them. “These should be taken to Rhysand,” he said. Azriel looked from the spot on the ground where he had been staring. “I’ll go,” he said a little too quickly. Cassian looked from the papers to his brother and gave him a smug look. “Eager to get back?” “No,” Azriel said defensively “As spymaster, I should relay this information.” “Right” Cassian answered handing Azriel the papers. Cassian put his arm around Azriel’s shoulders. “Well give Nesta a kiss for me” Azriel winced, knowing that she would likely stab him if he tried.

He landed a few hours later in the garden and was struck with disappointment. He wouldn’t admit to anyone else that he chose this spot hoping Elain might be out. It was still the morning, he wondered if she might still be inside. He walked towards the townhouse, the plans tucked under his arm.

ELAIN Nuala pulled a dress from Elain’s armoire and moved to place it on the bed. While the dresses she wore now were very simple, the backs still required assistance. This one, in particular, closed at the back with a ribbon. She got up and walked to the bed when she realized it. This dress was the one she saw in her vision. The beat of wings brought her attention to the window. “I can manage myself; you should go downstairs.” Elain let out, looking back to the dress. Nuala gave her a questioning look “But how will you do up the back?” “Oh, I can manage” Elain replied, trying to sound casual. The sound of wings again brought Nualas attention to the window. She looked back at Elain with a knowing smile. “Of course my lady, I will see you downstairs” and made her way to the door. Once she was alone, Elain contemplated what she was doing. If her vision was correct, he would walk through her door. She felt jittery, and her hands began to shake slightly as she pulled her clothes from the night before off and slid on her dress. Like clockwork, as she pulled her arms through the sleeves, there was a knock. She stopped breathing for a second. “Come in,” she said, trying to sound effortless. Her back turned to the door, but she heard it open. “Elain” he said, and she heard him stop. She looked over her shoulder to see him. He took up most of the door frame, his hair was slightly disheveled from flying. His hazel eyes were trained on her exposed back, he blinked and quickly looked to the ground. “I’m so sorry, I  thought you said come in. Sorry, I’ll go” he reached for the door handle keeping his eyes low. “Wait” she hesitated, “I did ask you to come in, I need a hand with the back of this dress. You wouldn’t mind would you?” She smiled sheepishly like she hadn’t orchestrated this moment. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Time seemed to slow as he closed the distance between them, setting the papers under his arm on a small table. “I don’t bite” she said jokingly. She could feel him standing behind her, she looked down and could see his hands at his sides, flexing open and closed. “I know” he chuckled. “you’re too sweet.” He used a hand to brush her hair off her back over her shoulder. Her skin pebbled everywhere his hands accidentally touched. He paused for a second before using that hand again to trace over her shoulder blades to the middle of her spine. She inhaled a breath. He took a small step closer, closing any remaining distance between them. He bent to place a soft kiss on her shoulder blade, then another on the nape of her neck. “So sweet,” he said into her skin. His hand moved to splay across her hip and the other around her middle. She felt wrapped up in him and was intoxicated by it. She spun in his arms, his eyes now piercing into hers. She brought her hands up to his chest, feeling the muscles underneath his leathers, then slowly up to hold each side of his face. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling. “The only thing I don’t like about our shadow arrangement is that I can’t see your face” She lifted herself up and brought her lips to his, and kissed him softly. As she did the hand he had on her hip tightened as he grabbed at more of the fabric there.  She pulled back to see his eyes still closed and he shook his head softly. “Elain” he began, his voice almost strained. “I need to tell you something; I should have told you so long ago.” “Tell me later” she wrapped a hand around his neck and the other grabbed his collar “Kiss me now” she said as she pulled his face back to hers. He sighed into her,  tightening his hold and leaning into her completely. The shadows at his feet began to swirl and rise higher, surrounding them both. Elain parted her lips, an invitation.

AZRIEL He kissed her gently at first, but the feeling of having her this close was intoxicating. He moved a hand to her back, needing to feel the softness of her skin again. Her lips parted, and her tongue ran over his bottom lip. His mind yelled at him to stop that she deserved more than stolen kisses. His body, however, wouldn’t listen. He opened his mouth in response and deepened the kiss needing everything she would give him. “The High Lady makes her way up the stairs” the voice of shadows said to his mind. He pulled back slightly to see Elain already looking back at him. “Feyres coming” she said stepping back and bringing her fingers to her lips. It seemed the shadows warned her as well.   Her face was flushed, and lips were swollen, she was so tempting; as if he dreamed her.

He commanded his mind back to sense. The shadows surrounding them began to recede slowly as if they too didn’t want to be pulled away from her. “Oh, there you are Azriel” Feyre seemed surprised as she opened the door. “I thought you arrived, Rhysand is waiting for you.” Azriel cleared his throat  “Yes, of course”  He turned and gave Feyre a small smile as he passed and made his way down the stairs. He found Rhysand in his office, sitting at his desk. “So I hear you have information,” he said, sounding the part of High Lord. “Yes, I’ve brought you the plans we’ve received” Rhysand looked up from the paper he was writing on. “And where are they?” He smiled at Azriel like he already knew. Azriel looked around; he had left them in Elain’s room. The two males talked at length. Rhysand was resigned not to leave Feyre when she was this far along with her pregnancy, but Azriel could tell this made him uneasy. “Don’t worry Rhys; I can handle this”  Rhysand let out a deep breath. “I know you can Az, I just wish you didn’t have to.” Azriel chuckled “Would you rather have a life of boredom?” Rhysand scoffed. “Some days I think it might be nice” He began to stand from his desk as Azriel’s shadows moved up to his ear. “Vanserra has just arrived, he waits for Elain in her garden” Anger began to flow through him. He knew Elain was her own person and owed him nothing, but he couldn't help the feelings Lucien’s presence caused.  “I should head back” Azriel stood quickly, masking his face with indifference.

ELAIN Elain walked with Lucien through the paths in the backyard, not focusing on the direction. Her mind was elsewhere, it was in her room this morning. The moments that took place replaying on a loop. She had also realized something, another piece of herself. She was tired of being labeled as innocent, of only accepting a chaste kiss to her cheek on her birthdays. Of waiting for things to come to her, and accepting them if they didn’t. She knew what she wanted - whom she wanted. A soft touch at her elbow brought her mind back to the garden and Lucien. He smiled at her, waiting for her to answer the question she hadn't heard. “I’m sorry Lucien, could you say that again, my mind was somewhere else” She felt sorry for blatantly ignoring him. He had always been kind to her, and while his interests were obvious - he didn’t deserve her rudeness. Even if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings. “Do you think Feyre and Rhys would mind if I stayed for dinner?” He asked again as they walked back towards the house.

Dinner that evening was pleasant but slow, Elain kept her eye on the clock. Feigning interest in the idle chatter. She wished to be upstairs and speak to Azriel. He had left without saying anything. Elain wondered if this was due to Lucien’s arrival. Lucien passed her a cup of tea as he sat down to her right. “Late for something?” he asked “Oh! No of course not.” Elain said flustered as she accepted the cup. “You look at the clock every few minutes” he said playfully nudging her with his shoulder. She didn’t realize she was that obvious. “Is there someone your missing..” Lucien began before he was cut off by a knock on the door. Rhysand stood up to answer, he opened the door and stepped aside. An Illyrian who was stationed outside the townhouse since Feryres pregnancy entered the foyer. “I’m sorry to interrupt sir but there has been another attack.”

[mistwraiths]

5 stars

I don't quite know if this book is ACOTAR #4 or technically the start of a new trilogy that's more adult than the other trilogy. Anyways, this book focuses on Nesta and Cassian, and dealing with Nesta's trauma and the growing trouble in the continent.

Nesta is my favorite character in the ACOTAR series and this book might be one of my absolute favorites I have read. Nesta's prickly and proud, a good character but she's not nice or kind. And she's gone through so much hardship and trauma, just like her sisters. Unlike Feyre, who slipped into despair, Nesta shuts out everything and everyone and attacks at the first chance.

And I related to that. Every part of Nesta's healing journey through her trauma and pain, I felt in my soul. The crippling self-hatred, the overwhelming feeling of failure. The tiny reminders that are hidden in the most normal things in life that trigger you. I had all of that. There's a part when Nesta does something in anger and dealing with it she simply just wants to not exist. That hit me the hardest so much it was painful to read because I had been there too in my own PTSD journey. Her healing was such a beautiful story. It was also a great moment to show readers of unreliable narrators. Feyre is biased as is Nesta, but each are right in their own way and also wrong about each others.

I think I only had a few problems when Nesta felt shame around the inner court for them not being friendly around her: example, Nesta feels shame that Mor never has a face of warmth towards her. I think that was an unnecessary thing because I stand by my opinion that the Inner Court isn't as friendly and open as they were to Feyre. We don't really see any interaction of Elain with them except for Azriel in the beginning, but everyone else seems to dislike Nesta from what Feyre revealed. I also didn't particularly like Amren's parts in this book. She tells Cassisn to extend a hand but often acts far cruelly than I believe is necessary. Does Amren have points? Absolutely but after four books and a novella, I'm still wondering why Amren is on the page other than constantly bringing up some ancient memory.

I always liked Cassian but I don't think I really loved him yet until this book simply because I didn't quite know him. Cassian in the other books always seemed to pull away from Nesta when Mor was around and I don't think that was addressed, however, he did pull his grown up pants on. It was really good to get to know more of Cassian and his history, and I love him better than I like Rhys.

I really didn't quite know what to expect with this book other than it was going to be steamy. I think SJM got better with writing her sex scenes. The split between the training and the library was so good and this time I felt the pacing of the book was far better. One of the biggest accomplishments I think of SJM in this book is the female friendships Nesta makes!! I'm so tired of the female characters only being around men. Feyre really didn't have any female friendships until ACOWAR and that was barely anything. Aelin and Lysandra felt far more forced to me and with Bryce, Danika is already gone. Here we got Nesta actively making a friend and continually being a good friend and the friendship grows. It was amazing and so good. Nesta needs her own friends other than the Inner Court.

We see lots of scenes dealing with the Inner Court and Rhys and Feyre, and it was so absolutely refreshing to see them in scenes that exposes their faults. Feyre loves Rhys and his brothers love Rhys, but Rhys is not the perfect, shining example of a great man that we are force fed in the first three ACOTAR novels. I really enjoyed the exposure of the faults. Like Rhys refusing to see anything but the worst of Nesta. Rhys keeping secrets from Feyre. Are there understandable reasons why? Yes. But that doesn't make them right or good. Feyre felt more like ACOTAR Feyre, which means she seemed to have her personality back. Or at least more of a presence. ACOMAF Feyre is different, of course, but ACOWAR Feyre was honestly just mainly codependent and unrecognizable.

I really didn't like the pregnancy. I know Rhys and Feyre are going to get a happy ending, but once a couple is together things aren't that interesting anymore. Feyre changed her mind on kids extremely quickly and while I was disappointed, I understood. However, you say Fae pregnancy is rare and it usually takes years and yet Feyre and Rhysand get pregnant nearly immediately? Ugh. I hate it. Not only that but another Fae couple is pregnant too. It's just too much of a good ending that it veers into unbelievable and eyerolling.

And then, the major spoilers, Feyre nearly dies again and is basically brought back to life again. I'm sick of it folks!!!! Everything gets perfectly fixed by magic. I enjoy a good happy ending but SJM has a way of trying to make us think she's going to do something serious with consequences or something deadly, and it doesn't work because we know the track record. She doesn't kill any good characters. Good characters don't truly suffer for long. They don't lose much, if at all. Trauma, absolutely but nothing physically substantial. So when characters almost die (or do die) and brought back to life, this is the 4th time this trick is done but maybe second on the same character, it feels like an overused cheap party trick.

There's no resolution on the growing problem on the continent and I'm slightly interested to see if he will feel like an actual antagonist. I don't know where the story will go next. I hope the next book is with Elain because I'm interested to her inside her head. She's more than anyone believes she is. I love Lucien and I love Azriel, and I think they both deserve love. But I'm Team Elain. Let her make HER decisions. Let her be happy.

[feysandandnyx]

I think it is very wrong to think that Rhysand is only imperfect through the POV of Nesta. Rhysand was never a perfect character, he was always morally grey, so I just love his ability to be spiteful. We see this a lot with your inability to forgive Tamlin or Nesta. I am happy to know that Feyre has happily found people for whom she is the first option. I love to know that Rhysand will always defend, be loyal and stand by her. Someone who will worry if she is hurt. Rhysand never hid how he felt about Nesta. Rhysand has always been arrogant too. Rhysand owes absolutely nothing to Nesta and the only thing that bound him to her until the end of acosf was always Feyre and Cassian.

Feyre plays a huge role in Nesta's story, because if Feyre had given up, maybe even Cassian would have turned her back. Just remember that it was Feyre who talked to Cassian when things went bad after Camp Illyriano or Feyre who explained to Cassian how Nesta thought or even Amaren, who advised Cassian to always keep an outstretched hand. I think a very bad narrative of the story told in acosf was created when that book was published. Some people were quick to want to vilify the characters to prove how Nesta was a victim of them. But people like Amaren, Feyre and even Rhysand, were instrumental in their healing process. ACOSF is not a single book, the first in a series. It is a continuity and is connected with the previous books. You can't just want to throw away the construction of the other characters in the trash. You can understand their behavior with Nesta if you look back.

As I said, Rhysand was never a perfect character and you don't need Nesta to understand that. Nesta also hates him for no apparent reason, as if he was wrong to dislike her because of Feyre. I even saw people saying that it was difficult to change when everyone judged her mistakes. This in an attempt to show how the IC was wrong. But you know, no one is at odds with Nesta without a reason. It is not as if people are being hypocritical with her, I venture to say that it is the other way around. Nesta doesn't like Rhysand for example, but she lives with her money. She doesn't want to work for him because according to her, Rhysand does it for Feyre's happiness and not because he loves her. Amaren is another example. Nesta is not talking to Amaren because according to her, Amaren chose Feyre. The same with Elain, whom she criticizes for not being by her side, when Nesta herself was the first to push her away. She also wants to hurt Cassian on purpose, without Mor being uncomfortable with it. Her point of view is biased at many times (about the IC) and as readers we have to be aware of this because we simply have 4 previous books to confront. She was also biased when she told Feyre about the pregnancy, making her believe that Rhysand would let Feyre die without knowing the risk of pregnancy. However, if you remember, Rhysand was trying to save Feyre's life and even Nesta acknowledged that he would do anything to save her sister

Consequently, what I see in many posts are people judging Rhysand because he chose to let Feyre die without knowing the risk, when at no time was that said. All Rhysand said was that he still hadn't found the courage to take that happiness away from Feyre. Although we don't have his point of view, for me Rhysand was behaving the same way he did when he hid the mating Bond. He might have been trying to tell, but Feyre's happiness and excitement made him lose his courage "to take that happiness from her".

Why did Feyre forgive Rhysand so quickly? Feyre was living with Rhysand. She saw things about him that the narrative is omitting because we don't have her point of view. Does this mean that Rhysand was right to hesitate? No. But you can understand why he is hesitating. There were too many things to take in. It was something he was supposed to tell, and that's probably why he forbade others to speak to Feyre about it. Because it wasn't just the life of Feyre and the baby, it was his life and the future of the night court. He would simply have to say that the three would die, that the peaceful world they had died to build would no longer exist, that his court would be divided among the rest and that they would simply die again.

I'll give you a personal example. I met a family in which the mother had cancer. When they found out, the doctors informed her that she would not survive, it was a matter of months. The children chose not to tell her that there was no hope and she died without knowing that she was always doomed. One of this mother's daughters was pregnant. The brothers hid the truth about cancer only because she was pregnant and in love with her mother. However, when they told her, she did not react well and her daughter was born six months. When her mother died, she was in the hospital fighting for her daughter's life and still developed postpartum depression. I was an expectant. And it was not up to me to judge.

However, I think this is an example of how we are able to hide things because we don't want those we love to suffer even more. Now a truth about me: in this Feyre story, Rhysand was less wrong for me than Nesta. He hid it because he cared. Did Feyre deserve to know? Yes, but I can understand why he is hesitating and I really think his intention was never to let her die without knowing it. That was simply the version that Nesta gave in a moment of anger. However, I have a bigger problem with the role of Nesta here. This was the only character that Rhysand did not ask to keep secret. She simply pledged herself. She promised and trusted him to save Feyre. She is shaken when she finds out, but that was all. Nesta is not losing sleep over Feyre or is not trying to save her life, something she would have done for Elain. Then, in a moment of anger, where she realized she was getting worse in a fight, she simply used Feyre's risk of pregnancy to hurt Amaren, Rhysand and FEYRE.

She simply could have used that information to try to build something positive with her sister, but it was the other way around. Again Nesta crosses a line and hurts Feyre because she is angry with other people. It doesn't matter how much you say that at least she did. Her intentions just weren't the best. She was more concerned with hurting regardless of the consequences. That is why she loses forgiveness. I would very much like to know why Feyre hesitated. What she thought. Was she surprised that Nesta is apologizing? Did she see any changes? Or was she deciding whether she should forgive her or not? For the time being Feyre said that Nesta told her because she felt cornered by the IC, Rhysand disagreed. And Nesta just confirmed that he was right. Nesta spoke because she was angry? Yes, but it had a lot more to do with her constant need to hurt people when she felt she didn't have the upper hand on any issue. Nesta also conspired with Rhysand and the IC, until she decided to use the information as a weapon against Amaren. It is only from this that Nesta reflects and tries not to hurt people anymore. She realizes that this was simply the most wrong thing about her.

So I also understand Rhysand when he asks Nesta to be kind to the priestesses. Rhysand knew the story / traumas of each, including Gwyn. He knew how delicate a territory was and he also knew that Nesta had a tendency to hurt people cruelly. Why shouldn't he fear when she did this to her own sister or Cassian? Can we understand Nesta's motives? Yes. But it is very possible to understand Rhysand's behavior in this book without him appearing to be the great villain of Nesta's story.