#Lucien can become a lordling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

Text

Fireleaf (Part Twenty)

Hi! Here’s Part Twenty! @greeneyedivy and I love you all and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Some violence.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“I knew it. I fucking knew she couldn’t have received those letters.”

Eris watched Linden pace before him, arms of pure, corded muscle rippling as he clenched his hands at his sides. The male was…certainly a presence. Domineering.

“She’s been missing you.” Eris said. “She thought…”

“That I hadn’t bothered to write? I should have tried harder.”

The two males had spoken for barely an hour, Eris sharing details as promptly as he could, but the short conversation was confirmation enough that Linden adored Y/N just as fiercely as she did him. A conflict had shadowed his dark eyes, and he looked…regretful. Troubled. Eris didn’t know what to say to make it better. Or whether it was even possible to do so.

“It isn’t your fault that my father intercepted the letters.” He’d try, anyway. “None of us could have known what—”

“Except I did know.” Linden cut him off, whirling around to face him. “I did.”

Eris stared back at him, waiting for the explanation that lay behind the haunted expression. He’d told Linden everything there was to know, but there was a stark sense of…something else. It seemed to fill the room, rob it of air.

Or perhaps that was just the male’s exquisite build—

“I should have stepped in sooner. Warned Y/N when I had the chance.” Linden’s words snapped Eris out of his thoughts. He shook his head. “…her father came to me, about a year before she was informed of her engagement. It was when the family business had truly gone under, and Jesper was becoming desperate.” He stopped his pacing, slumping into a chair. “You see, my family is…not good. They’re scum of the earth criminals. They peddle things like Faebane knowing damn well what damage it can do. I got away from them because I wanted nothing to do with it. But Jesper found out somehow. He started asking me questions. How these substances were created, what kind of profit they made. I told him I had nothing to do with it, but he still continued to ask. I knew. I knew he was up to something. I should have told Y/N right away.”

Eris knew all too well how easy it was to fall into a churning cycle of should haves. But it was equally pointless. It couldn’t change a thing.

“Be that as it may.” He said quietly. “You couldn’t have known the true scope of the situation. None of us could. All we can do, now, is try to fix it.”

Linden studied him. There was something so endless and assessing in those dark, uptilted eyes. It left Eris feeling strangely…bare. He shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the heat that spread over the back of his neck.

“What do you need me to do?” Linden asked. “Whatever it is…for Y/N, I’ll do it. No questions asked.”

Eris didn’t doubt it for one second. “We’re working on how we’re going to take down my father. Tamlin is gathering information. Lucien is meeting with Y/N to tell her everything. All I know, right now, is that she’s going to need you. This isn’t going to be pretty.”

It was without hesitation that Linden rose from his seat, once again seeming to command the light and air in the room with his broad figure. He stood tall, meeting Eris’s gaze.

“Then we’d better get moving, lordling.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

It was a rather intimate thing, Eris had surmised, travelling closely side-by-side, just his companion and the stretch of road for company. A way to truly get to know someone. Mere hours had built a rapport between him and Linden that was…new to him. Exciting.

They’d ridden for an entire day, and Eris was physically done-in. He wanted to be back on home turf, to bathe in an actual tub rather than in a stream. To eat proper food. It would be a bare-faced lie to say that he hadn’t been tempted to take the easy route and winnow himself and Linden back to the estate, but…whatever they were to face when they got there, he wanted every bit of his magic reserve intact. And if that meant another day or two of monotonous travel on horseback, then so be it.

They’d stopped for the night under a canopy of trees, hoping to catch at least a few hours of rough, restless sleep before they set off again. Eris had thought that he was well accustomed to nature, to camping amongst the elements, but Linden…there were no words for the refined ruggedness of both his appearance and personality. A male who could truly take anything in his stride.

Footsteps approaching from behind roused Eris slightly from his fatigue. He glimpsed up as Linden rounded the fire, returning from his wash in the lake. Eris’s heavy eyes became a tad more alert as they landed on the male. The glorious sculpt of muscles, the brown skin nicked and marked with scars, the rivulets of water running down his chest—

Godlike — the word bleated in Eris’s mind. Linden was godlike.

He couldn’t force his eyes away as the male grabbed a discarded shirt and used it to mop up the lingering water droplets that rolled down, down his pectorals and over his abs, further still until they dipped beneath the vee—

Linden’s dark eyes flicked up, and a smirk toyed with his lips. He knew the redhead was staring; had been doing a lot of staring, in fact. He may have deliberately stretched his arms over his head as he faced him properly.

“See something you like, Vanserra?”

Eris greatly resented the dusting of pink that he knew had appeared on his cheeks. He’d never been with a male — and that wasn’t for lack of fantasising about doing so. There was just…so much pressure on him to be the perfect male; the perfect future High Lord that would produce just-as-perfect heirs. It was that snag which had stopped him having the courage to explore such desires.

But here, alone with Linden under the expanse of towering trees…surely he could give in and flirt, at the very least. He was good at flirting.

So he sat back, resting on his hands, and shrugged. “What if I do?”

Linden’s head fell into a tilt, his braids following the movement. “Have you ever been with a male?”

“I haven’t.”

Full lips kicked up into a half-smirk. “Not your bag?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Silence snaked around them as the two of them stared at each other, challenge appearing to spark in both their gazes. There was a beat, a pause, and then Linden let out a deep chuckle that skittered over Eris’s skin like a chill.

“Interesting.” He commented simply.

Eris sat up, curiosity piquing. “Have you?” He asked. “Been with a male?”

“I have.” Linden confirmed. “I enjoy both males and females. But I have a preference for males.”

It was strange — the pinch of thrill that shot through Eris. To hear somebody talk about such matters so openly, so proudly — to talk about it without glancing over their shoulder every few seconds. It made him feel…dangerous. Alive.

Perhaps that was how he found the courage to press, “what do you prefer about them?”

Linden glanced up at him through dark lashes, his body going still. And for a moment, Eris wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. He wanted to kick himself, to take it back—

But then Linden moved. Slowly. Traipsed round to the side of the fire on which Eris sat. Took a seat in front of him.

He smelled like a heady mix of earth and woodsmoke and moss. The scent hit Eris in a pleasant wave, and he tried not to inhale too sharply at what that, alone, did to him. Tried not to stare too closely at the bare, muscled chest that was now mere inches from his touch.

“Do you really want to know?” Linden asked gruffly. The grit in his voice was like an awakening for Eris.

Eris swallowed. Sat up straighter. “Sure. Why not?”

Linden’s lips twitched, and Eris tracked the movement, wondering what they would feel like against his. He had a full mouth, lips generous and divine-looking. He had to be an excellent kisser.

“Okay.” The general hummed, edging slightly closer. “I like the responses I can elicit just from blowing on a male’s cock. They try to maintain control, try to rein in their pleasure. But lick just the right spot and they’re begging for more. Begging to cum.”

“…oh.” Eris breathed. He was most definitely hard as a rock, straining painfully against his breeches. He tried to adjust himself, and Linden watched, his smirk widening.

“I find,” he said, his eyes fully on the tightening of Eris’s breeches, “that there’s an area that most males enjoy. Just below the head. Something about it is so sensitive that you apply a little pressure, and it feels good enough for them to forget their own name.”

Eris’s eyes almost rolled back into his head. Gods, that sounded good. He didn’t know how he’d gone all these years without giving in and exploring such things. He wanted them all, wanted them now. He wanted to pretend that he wasn’t a future High Lord with expectation and propriety weighing him down. He wanted Linden’s lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him dry until even the leaves on the trees knew precisely what responses he could elicit.

And Linden knew that. Could see it on the male’s face. He smiled. “Would you like me to show you, lordling?”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧

You could stay here forever.

Forever, in this gamekeeper’s cottage, you and Lucien hiding from the rest of the world. No Beron. No faebane. No forced nuptials to worry over. Just…love. Bliss.

It had hurt to see the first shafts of daylight pouring through the window. The night in Lucien’s arms had gone too fast. The hours of warmth, of security, were fleeting.

But he was your mate. And this would all be over soon. Soon, the first signs of a new day would be exciting.

Mate. The word had entered your mind as you’d sat up in bed. You’d smiled, touching your fingers to your lips, your chest. The cottage was empty and silent around you — Lucien had woken you briefly not long before, whispering that he was going to find some manner of breakfast for the two of you. He’d kissed your head and left you to lightly snooze a while longer, which you had, the ghost of his lips still on your skin.

You rose, now, with a lightness you hadn’t had this same time a day earlier. Mate, mate, mate. Lucien was your mate. Your love. Your soul.

You briefly readied yourself in the washroom, listening out for the click of the front door. Your lips tugged into a smile when the thud of footsteps carried through.

“Y/N?” The deep caress of Lucien’s voice followed it. Hearing it felt different, somehow, to all the times he’d spoken your name before. Like an oath. A promise.

You dried your freshly-washed face, hurrying through to greet him. It would be an effort not to launch yourself at him.

You stopped in the doorway, just…just taking in the sight of him, bathed in the morning sunlight. He was resplendent. Exquisite. His hair cascaded like waves of fire around his golden face. Your eyes snagged on the braid you’d given him, and you smiled.

“Good morning.”

He may not have even heard your greeting. He was staring at you, too, russet eyes full of unbridled emotion. He loosened a breath. “You are so godsdamn beautiful.”

Colour touched your cheeks. “I just woke up.”

“I know. I think this may just be my favourite version of you.”

You smiled, lowering your eyes to the floor as he slowly approached. He placed down two wicker baskets before he stopped in front you. His hand gently clasped your jaw, and he ran his thumb over your lips.

“Good morning.” He murmured. “My mate.”

Your breath released with a shudder, and there was no stopping you as you pushed up onto the tips of your toes and kissed him. Happily. Gladly. Freely.

His arms immediately snaked around you as he leaned in to the kiss. There was no happier place, no better world, than in his arms. That you’d tried to ignore your feelings for him, tried to force a future where he wasn’t yours and you weren’t his—

You shook those thoughts off, pulling back and smiling at him before you could start crying again. You wouldn’t waste precious moments on thinking of what had already passed.

“I hope you’re hungry.” Lucien chuckled softly, reaching for the baskets he’d set aside. “I walked to the nearest market. Got just about everything you could possibly want.”

Indeed, there were fruits and cheeses and meats and a loaf of freshly-baked, crusty bread. Your stomach rumbled at the sight, and you reached for the first basket–

“I got you something else, as well.” Lucien said, a soft smile on his lips.

You cocked your head. “Oh?”

“At the market, a couple of young girls had a stall. They were selling these little flower chains they’d made. Or rather, trying to sell them. I couldn’t resist buying one.”

You chuckled, watching as he produced a circlet of daisies from a small paper bag. He was grinning as he fastened it around your neck.

“There.” He hummed. “Fit for a queen.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t buy one for yourself.” You smiled. “You’d look so pretty with daisies around your neck and in your hair. I’m not sure I could keep my hands to myself.”

“Oh really?”

He leaned in, his scent enveloping you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his lips brush yours — before your stomach decided to announce your hunger again.

Lucien chuckled, pressing a quick peck to your lips before pulling away. He grabbed both baskets, carrying them over to the kitchenette. “We should really eat.”

And as much as you wanted to eat him in that moment, you were just as content to sit yourself at the small table and watch, basking in the domestic bliss of Lucien cutting up the fruits and cheese and slicing the bread and meats. He poured you both a drink of juice and carried the assortment of food — far more than you could possibly need — over to you.

“For my love.” He kissed the top of your head. “Enjoy.”

A gentle, comfortable silence swathed the two of you as you dug in, savouring the tastes coating your tongue. You would remember these tastes — associate them with Lucien, with this moment, forever more. You were happy.

But it was halfway through your meal that you realised that Lucien didn’t seem quite so comfortable. You studied him, a kernel of worry in your gut as you reached out and wrapped your leg around his.

“Hey.” You spoke softly. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Lucien chewed slowly. A moment passed before he lifted his gaze to yours, and he grabbed your hand. “I need to talk to you about something—tell you something we discovered in this…mess.”

And that kernel inside you grew instantly. Not just worry, but…doom. Doom, as you shifted in your seat. “Okay…”

“…Eris discovered some hidden letters in our father’s office. Letters from Linden. He’d written to you during your first couple of weeks at the estate, but they were intercepted and hidden from you.”

Your body stiffened. Lucien’s thumb brushing over your hand was the only thing keeping you grounded. “…But why? I know your father is a callous bastard, but…why bother? They’re just letters from my friend…”

Your words trailed off as Lucien shook his head. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and sat back. Still gripped onto your hand. “They weren’t just any letters. Linden alluded to the fact that he had important information he needed to give you. He wanted to meet with you so you could talk.”

“Information?”

“You see…there were other letters, too. Addressed to my father…from your father.” His fingers gripped tighter. “…the whole thing, Y/N — you and Dion getting married — was all a part in some twisted, convoluted plan that our fathers cooked up together.”

“I know that. My father wanted me to marry a high-standing male to save our reputation—”

“No, Y/N/.” Lucien cut you off gently. “Your father arranged for you to marry Dion as part of a bargain with my father. Your father had begun peddling faebane because of the gambling debts he’d racked up and the risk of what they could do to your family’s reputation. He…he essentially gave you to my father, to Dion, to get you out of the way. So that they could negotiate their sales without you finding out and trying to put a stop to it.”

You weren’t sure you were breathing.

Your entire body had gone ice-cold. Stiff. A strange sensation of pinpricks crawled over your skin.

No. Surely your father wouldn’t stoop so low. He’d undoubtedly changed since the family business had gone under, but he wasn’t a bad male. Wasn’t someone who would bring harm to anyone’s door — much less his own children—

But despite your pleading, whirring thoughts, you knew damn well that Lucien wouldn’t be telling you this without reason. Without evidence.

You tried to swallow the lump that had grown in your throat, and the tears that rolled down your cheeks were starkly warm against your frozen skin. You were only just able to croak out, “you’re sure about this?”

“I wish I wasn’t, my love.” There was a rustle, some movement — and then a pile of envelopes was placed in front of you. “Eris made copies of all the letters.”

For a moment, you just…stared at them. You didn’t know if you had the courage to read the truth. But some small part of you knew that you needed to. That you needed to finally put the puzzle pieces of this entire bizarre situation together. To step back and look at the picture they created.

With shaking hands, you reached out. And you forced yourself to read.

Every word was like a punch to your gut. Like wiping clean what you thought you knew of the man who had raised you. You didn’t…didn’t recognise the person who had written these letters, who was doing these things. And to essentially sell you to the Vanserras — to get you off his hands…

You tossed those ones aside before you could finish reading them. But it was Linden’s letters — his tone and his manner in writing — that truly finished you off. Your tears splashed against the pages, blurring your eyes and making it impossible to read. But you could hear his voice in your head. Warning you. Telling you to stay strong. And the idea that he’d thought you hadn’t wanted to write to him—

The letter drifted from your hands, onto the table, just as a sob broke from your throat. So many emotions were warring inside you at once. You didn’t know which to focus on, how to process them.

Lucien was immediately pushing out of his chair, rounding the table to where you sat. With utter ease, he was scooping you up into his arms and lowering himself into your seat, securing you in his lap. You clung to him, the front of his shirt, as you gave in to another onslaught of tears.

“It’s going to be alright.” He soothed you quietly, pressing his lips to your hair.

You cried harder, barely able to get your words out. “My father—the hamlet fire—”

“I know. I know. The whole thing is fucked up. But they’re not getting away with this, I promise you.”

You pulled back, just enough to stare at Lucien through your teary eyes. “How can you be so sure? No one has ever stopped Beron before—”

“It’s different now. We have more people on our side than our fathers do on theirs. And he’s been rapidly losing support as High Lord for a while, now — particularly since the Harvest Festival last year, and then the hamlet fire. He’s losing his power. And we’re going to leach him of every last bit of it and expose him for what he is, what he’s done. We’re going to take him down.”

“But—but how do you outsmart and take down pure evil?”

“Tamlin has had his people watching him while I’ve been away — gathering information and evidence.” Lucien leaned down, his lips brushing away each tear on your cheeks. “That’s why I have to return to the Spring Court for the time being. To find out what he knows and help him. We’ve already learned that my father is meeting with yours today, all the way in Rask — Dion is going to use his skill and follow them. Spy on the meeting. My mother is willing to help any way that she can. And Eris…Eris has gone to track Linden down. To bring him back to our court. There is…no way, Y/N, that our fathers are getting away with this. Not once we’re finished with them.”

The information — all of it — was swimming in your head, clashing against each other like waves against rocks. You half wanted to slam your hands against your ears and hide, to reject everything you were hearing, but—

“Eris is bringing Linden back?” You sat up — and paused. “…Your father is meeting with mine today?” So many questions, you couldn’t ask them all at once.

“Yes.” Lucien studied you cautiously. “But Dion is dealing with that. You’re not to go anywhere near that meeting, do you hear me?”

You heard him. But that impulsive, furious part of you wanted to damn it all to hell and go storming straight to your father. To confront him face-to-face.

“Y/N.” Lucien dragged your gaze back to this. “We’re doing this the proper way. Believe me, I want nothing more than to confront both my father and yours, and gut them both. But that isn’t the way to solve this. We can only win this with information and evidence. By outsmarting them and exposing them.” His arms tightened around you. “I want you to go back to the estate and stay with my mother. Alright? Promise me that you will.”

You stared into those deep, russet eyes, reading the emotion, the pleading, that lay there. Everyone knew you could be foolish and ruled by your short fuse, but…but the only way of getting what you wanted — of seeing a happy ending with the male you were so in love with — would be by following their leads. This was an intricate game that they were far more well-equipped to play than you were. You wouldn’t destroy the outcome for everyone by being impulsive, reckless.

“I promise.” You said, and you meant it with your whole heart. “I’ll go back to the estate and stay with your mother. Just…just be careful. Please—”

Your worries were smothered by Lucien’s lips slanting over yours, the kiss hard and promising. He cupped your face, and it was though he was committing the feel and taste of you to memory as he claimed your mouth with his. He only pulled away to suck in a deep intake of breath.

“This’ll all be over soon, my fireling.” He breathed against your lips. “We’ll be together soon.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Rask was a wise territory in which to meet. Rask was so preposterously big that even the High Lord of the Autumn Court could stroll through its packed streets without garnering attention.

Dion understood the logic behind Beron and Jesper agreeing to meet here, but that didn’t make the stifling heat any more pleasant to endure. To any innocent bystander, he and Willow were just one of many wealthy couples strolling through the streets with parasols and hand-held fans and clothes so expensive they could feed an entire village for a year. But though Dion was by no means a honed, seasoned spy, not at all confident in his abilities – his skill was in conversation, in charm – he would sooner throw himself into the centre of the action than have Y/N do so – again.

He and Willow had been here for a day already, a happy, young couple — for all intents and purposes — simply holidaying on the continent. But they’d familiarised themselves with landscapes, learned exactly where this meeting was to be held. They were leaving nothing to chance.

Dion hadn’t even wanted to bring Willow with him, but…as his brilliant, wonderful love had pointed out, they were far more likely to blend in as a couple, than a lone male would, scoping out the streets. And blend in, they did.

It was mid-morning, the sun already unbearably hot, when they glimpsed Barric through the cafe window they were sat beside. Indeed, the male, striding along alone, did look rather misplaced amongst the couples and groups. The mere sight of him had white-hot rage building in Dion that he had to tamp down on. Willow kicked him beneath the table for good measure.

Right. He needed to focus. The timing had to be perfect. They’d learned, through Tamlin’s sentinels, that Barric would be disembarking at the docks at ten o’clock – which he had. He would make his way to the public gardens and be joined an hour later by Beron and Jesper. A perfectly reasonable place for three businessmen to take a leisurely stroll whilst holding an inconspicuous meeting. Nobody would suspect anything untoward, or even pay them any mind.

Dion and Willow waited until Barric was firmly out of sight before they rose from their seats, paying for their breakfast and returning to the busy Raskian streets. They kept to the darker corners of the city, the alleys and more impoverished areas – places in which they knew they weren’t at risk of running into the High Lord’s advisor. They retraced the route they’d planned in the room at the inn the night before, thanks to the map Tamlin had provided them with. It was certainly not as pleasant a walk as they would have taken on the main streets or the promenade, no – but through the winding, cobblestone paths of the city’s underbelly, they could find their way to the public gardens more or less unseen and undetected.

They arrived around thirty minutes before Beron and Jesper were due to. Once again, they blended in with the various other couples who were strolling the paths that wended through the hedges and bushes. Rather bold, really, for the High Lord to conduct such discussions in such a public place – but the coded, secretive language would mean nothing to these people. No one would know what the males amongst them were capable of.

No sign of Barric, yet, but Dion wasn’t concerned. He need only place himself in his father’s mind, think like him. He tucked Willow’s arm within his own and guided her around, pretending to peruse the flowers and shrubs. But he was looking for quiet, shaded alcoves. For somewhere Beron might stand and talk whilst maintaining a picture of ease and utter casualness.

The pair were just rounding a large conifer hedge when Dion yanked Willow back with him, pressing her against the wall of shrubbery. Barric approached from the other direction, hands in his pockets and his shoulders rolled back. He headed to a stone pavilion at the back of the garden. A quiet corner, indeed.

They kept their footsteps light as they followed the line of hedges that encased the pavilion in an almost circular formation. There, they could wait. There, they could listen.

Sweat rolled down Dion’s neck, his hair sticking to his skin. The heat was truly unbearable, and even more so with he and Willow squished so closely together. A rustle had him pressing her even closer against him, and she shoved a hand over her mouth, stifling a yelp as he stepped on her foot. There was no comfort in spying, in being discreet – his thoughts flitted momentarily to Azriel of the Night Court, and he wondered how the male did it with such ease.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. It was unbearable. But with every passing minute, the other members of the public had steered well clear of that quiet corner of the gardens. Perhaps Barric had spoken to the staff ahead of time, insisted that they not be disturbed—

Chimes peeled nearby, announcing eleven o’clock. Beron and Jesper would be here any moment. Beron Vanserra despised poor time-keeping. Was never, ever late.

The sound of footsteps scuffing on the stone path had both Dion and Willow tensing. He pushed her closer against the hedge, tempted to hold his breath, to not make a sound as he listened to the approaching people – no, he realised, approaching person. That was only one pair of footsteps. And not headed towards the pavilion, but rounding the corner—

He turned just in time to come face-to-face with Barric. Barric, who merely smiled at the two of them, unsurprised. He took in the sight of Dion and Willow with a strange look of amusement in his eyes. There was no Beron. No Jesper…

Alarm bells began ringing inside of Dion’s mind. He stood up straight, angling himself in front of Willow as Barric began to stroll towards them.

“Oh, dear me.” He purred, a figure of pure assuredness. His eyes flicked over Dion, and his lips twitched. “Does Y/N know that you’ve taken to rutting among the conifers with the younger, prettier sister? I can’t imagine she’d be all too thrilled.”

Dion’s jaw clenched. He had no words. The situation was suddenly clear as day before him.

The whole thing had been a fucking trap.

“What a coincidence, that we should end up in Rask at the same time as each other.” Barric clicked his tongue. “Except, of course, it’s no coincidence at all, is it?”

Dion swallowed. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to–”

“This was a fun little experiment. So rarely do I get to visit the continent.” He leaned past Dion to shoot a positively lupine smile at Willow. “I take it this is your first time here? Beautiful weather, no?”

“What,” Dion gritted out, “experiment?”

Barric rolled his eyes. “I must say, Dion, I’m a tad disappointed. I thought you were smarter than this. You didn’t actually think that Beron could be spied on without finding out, did you? He suspected for weeks that he was being watched. This was just a fun way to confirm it. Though, I’m a little annoyed – I bet ten gold marks that your feral fiancee would be the one to follow us.”

Dion clenched his fists at his side. He wanted to throttle him, to kill him. He’d been so fucking stupid.

“My father’s not here?” He asked.

“No, Dion, your father’s not here. Do you truly believe he has time to go gallivanting around Rask when there’s work to be done? You made a wasted journey, I’m afraid. But at least I can go back and tell him he was right — that he was being spied on.” He tsked sarcastically. “And by his own son, no less. I’m sure he’ll have a small amount of leniency for his kin, but…well, Tamlin’s sentinels didn’t have the same kind of luck.”

“You killed them?” Willow finally spoke on a breath, staring wide-eyed over Dion’s shoulder.

“Me?” Barric scoffed. “No. I was on a ship to Rask by then. But I believe the High Lord had a fun time doing so. And he’s even being generous enough to return their bodies to the Spring Court – well, their heads, anyway. On spikes.”

Dion…Dion needed to get Willow out of there. Now. If she didn’t vomit, he may just do it for the both of them.

He grabbed hold of her hand, tugging. He could barely get his shaking legs to move as he snarled, “Come on.”

“Oh, are you leaving?” Barric tilted his head. “That’s a shame. These gardens are so beautiful. I do hope I didn’t ruin your experience. If I were you, I’d make the most of your trip — give Beron some time to calm down before you return home.”

Dion didn’t deign to respond. Every part of him trembled, but he pushed himself forward. Pushed himself to hold Willow close and hurry past. To…to go back to their inn, or…or wherever. He didn’t know. His head was swimming, spinning. He needed to get them out.

But Barric called after them one more time.

“Dion?” His lips twitched upwards. “You can’t win, you know. There’s no use in trying.”

Again, he didn’t bother with a response. Didn’t even look back.

But as he hurried himself and Willow out of there, feeling like he was wading through mud, he couldn’t help feeling like Barric’s words rang true.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *

Go back to the estate and stay with my mother.

You would do just that. Whatever Lucien needed you to do. You could still feel him on you, smell him on you, and that in itself gave you the strength to just sit tight and wait.

You couldn’t help feeling unease, though, after you’d returned your horse to the stables. As you climbed the steps up to the front door, the place felt…wrong. As though you were walking straight into a trap.

Paranoid. You were simply paranoid from all the information you’d learned.

Still, that paranoia kept you on high alert whilst you began travelling the winding corridors of the house, in search of Catrin. You knew that the High Lord and Barric were still away from the estate, as were most of the other Vanserras, but…something felt off. Even with the usual servants milling around and completing their jobs, it felt almost as if the entire property was…was holding its breath. Waiting.

“Catrin?” You called softly, opening the door to the sitting room she favoured. The area was empty, dark. No teacups or open books or signs that anyone had been in there recently.

You pursed your lips, shutting the door again. Maybe you should try the solarium; she often enjoyed watching the evening sun pour through the windows in various pastel hues. You could sit with her, and tell her that she was right — that you were going to fight for your love.

You turned, rounding another corner – and smacked into someone.

Not Catrin. The figure was far too big, far too imposing. Tall and muscled and firm. Your stomach bottomed out as Beron Vanserra’s spiced scent filled your nose.

Slowly, you stepped back. Swallowed. The High Lord cocked his head at you, not unlike a curious cat.

Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous, a voice bleated in your head. Watch yourself.

“Apologies, my lord.” Your voice barely came out, a mere rasp. “I didn’t see you there.”

His lips jerked into an unkind smile. “Snooping about the halls? Have you nothing better to do?”

“I was looking for Ca—Lady Autumn. I thought we might have tea together.”

Your quick correction clearly wasn’t enough. Realisation crossed his face, swept away by thunder. You’d given away that she’d shared her name with you — and he hated it. Hated her having an identity, something besides the title he’d stamped to her. Hated that things went on beneath his nose.

But he schooled his features into neutrality. “Interesting,” was all he offered.

You dipped your chin, stepping aside. “Excuse me.” Go back to the estate and stay with my mother. Go back to the estate and stay with my mother. You couldn’t get yourself into trouble if you simply…avoided it. Did as you were told.

But the High Lord’s arm was whipping out, blocking your path so quickly that you walked into it. It was firm, like a true barricade able to hold you back. You stiffened.

“Lady Autumn,” he said, his tone dripping with distaste, “is at the market, where I sent her. I needed you and I to be able to talk in peace.”

You swallowed, your eyes not moving from his arm. “What could we have to talk about?”

He moved so fast, there was no chance for you to even register that the strong, muscled arm was scooping you up and shoving you into the sitting room, slamming the door shut behind you. You winced as he pinned you against the wall, barely a space between you. His scent was too much, too strong.

“You’re posing a great deal of problems for me, Y/N.” He murmured lethally. “And I don’t like it.”

You didn’t—couldn’t—raise your eyes to his. You honed in on an insignificant, dark blot on his collar. So unusual for the High Lord to be anything besides pristine. To have carelessly allowed his crisp tunic to be stained with ink, or—

No, not ink. Blood. That was blood.

Only then did you meet his gaze, your voice like steel as you gritted out, “what have you done.”

Not Catrin. Please, please not Catrin. Had he somehow found out about your little trip outside the estate, your conversation? Had he—had he hurt her?

The High Lord glanced down at the stain of blood on his tunic. His lips twitched. “I merely doled out a justified punishment to Tamlin’s sentinels. I don’t like being watched, Y/N.”

Your stomach turned. You were going to be sick. “Seems to me that hiding that big cache of Faebane has turned you paranoid—”

You flinched, words cutting off as his hand rose. But he merely lowered it to your hair, his fingers sinking through the strands and…and finding your braid. Toying with it. His eyes studied it, and he seemed to smile knowingly.

“Do you know what I find mighty curious, Y/N?”

You didn’t miss a single movement of his. “What?”

That small, barely-there gap between your two bodies was closed as he leaned in. You stiffened, not daring to breathe as the ridge of his nose coasted along your throat, and he inhaled.

“I can smell my son all over you.” His voice was too close, too much, a scrape against your skin. “Over every. Single. Inch of you.”

You tried to back up, to no avail. “Dion and I never swore an oath of celibacy before the wedding. What of it?”

Beron chuckled — an awful, grating sound. “Wrong son. Try again.”

“Dion—”

“Dion,” he spat, his hand snapping up to wrap around your throat, “is in Rask with Willow. Because the two of them went there to spy on me, didn’t they? And fell flawlessly into my trap. Barric is dealing with them as we speak.”

Every word eddied from your mind. Every word except your sister’s name. Willow, Willow, Willow. You hadn’t known she’d gone with Dion, hadn’t known that—

Fell flawlessly into my trap.

Barric is dealing with them as we speak.

“What are you—” You managed to gasp out around your quickening breaths. “What have you done?”

“Besides defending what’s mine? My right?” Beron shrugged. “Besides punishing traitors—”

“You are the traitor.” You snapped. “You and my fucking father. Betraying your people. Harming them.”

The High Lord chuckled — chuckled. And it was enough to incense you. Enough to spark that fury inside of you that gave you enough strength to shove him away from you.

“You’re sick.” You sneered. “You’ve done so much damage — to your own people, your court — and you don’t even care. But rest assured, Beron, you won’t get away with it. We will destroy you, just as you have destroyed so much. We’re going to expose you, and—”

Your words must have hit a nerve. Because Beron struck.

One moment, he was sneering at you. The next — in a flash of movement so fast, you barely had time to register it — he was grabbing you by the neck, raising an object over your head.

He squeezed hard, and you clawed at his hand, fought and fought to rip it from your skin.

But then his other hand was slicing down. Something hit your head with a thunderous blow.

You knew nothing more than the darkness that seeped in.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The High Lord stood over the female, his breaths heaving.

She didn’t move.

Crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from a deep gash on her head. He could hear that she was still breathing — just about. For now.

He’d known he’d have to deal with her eventually.

He nudged her with the toe of his boot. It only caused her arm to flop back. Good. She wouldn’t wake any time soon — not before it was too late.

Everything had got too close to comfort. Watchful eyes everywhere, whispers amongst his kin. There was evidence — evidence he needed rid of.

Y/N being the most glaring piece of evidence.

He would raze this place to the ground before he’d allow his secrets to be exposed. Words were nothing without proof — and this manor was full of the stuff.

He stepped over Y/N’s crumpled body. She didn’t so much as twitch. Didn’t stir as he slipped out of the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

He felt nothing as he walked through the halls of the manor, towards his office. That was where the bulk of the proof lay.

And so that was where the heart of the destruction would begin.

He flung the door open wordlessly. The guards were with Catrin, accompanying her to the market, just as he’d instructed. The servants never dared spare him a glance. Perhaps they’d feel differently after today.

His eyes took one sweeping look of his office, and still, he felt nothing. Wasn’t capable of feeling anything. He’d always been cold, stoic. Always needed to be.

There was no flicker of emotion for the wealth of possessions he’d accumulated over the years. No emotion for the proud domain of a High Lord.

And no emotion for his two sons who lounged on a couch, lying in wait. Jareth and Rian glanced up upon his arrival, waiting dutifully for instruction.

“You called for us, father?” Jareth sat up, eagerness shining in his eyes.

Beron strode to the desk. The desk that would be ashes within the hour. “The time has come for the two of you to prove yourselves to me.”

Both males immediately straightened where they sat. They were different to their brothers — had none of Catrin’s softness, and all of Beron’s cunning.

“What are we to do?” Rian asked.

Beron stared into space, as if seeing something no one else could. “I want every room on this level burning within minutes.”

His sons stilled, sharing a glance. It was Jareth who repeated, “…burning?”

“I want you to set fires. As many as you possibly can without being seen.”

“…to the manor?” Rian stared at him.

The High Lord’s eyes shot to him. “Yes, you imbecile, to the manor. The whole place needs to go up in flames. You know of the discourse amongst the court — that villagers have been steadily turning on me. The fire will be blamed on them. On an uprising of brutes. And I, their High Lord, will be running straight towards the danger and rescuing innocent servants and staff from the blaze.” While vital evidence is burned, he didn’t add. “No one will dare question their loyalty to me after today.”

There was clearly a moment of hesitation between the two sons. A part of them that wanted to argue that this was their home, these were their things, that they loved it here.

But their father was their High Lord. And with a scathing last look from him, they rose and slunk from the room to follow orders.

Beron stood from the chair at his desk. Took one last look at the study.

He glanced down at his hands, summoning flames to his fingertips. Strode towards the door.

And with one jerk of his wrist, the entire study became an inferno. The heat was stifling, the flames spreading, eating up the carpet and furniture. The evidence. He shut the door behind him with barely a glance.

He backed away, not at all hurried. But as he strolled to the exit, he tuned in to the sounds of similar fires bursting through rooms. Destroying things.

And soon, the most vital things would be gone.

Soon, there would be nothing of Y/N and the evidence, besides a pile of ashes.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

He took a back exit, into the gardens, and followed the path to the front. By the time he’d strolled there, black smoke was already churning out of the windows and doors. Panicked cries had begun to seep out from inside. He wasn’t worried that any of the staff would find Y/N; very few of them ventured to the lower areas, the personal areas, without express permission.

He rounded the corner just in time to see Catrin approaching, Beron’s two guards at her sides and pure horror on her face. The basket she’d taken to the market was tossed aside, and she grasped the skirts of her gown, running towards the manor.

Beron shot into her path so quickly, she stumbled into him. He barely glanced at his guards, ordering them with a jerk of his chin. “Go and help. Quickly.”

The two of them took off in a sprint, running for the manor. Shouts carried out to them – and heat. Unbearable, stifling heat.

Catrin attempted to sidestep Beron, her entire body visibly shaking. “What is—”

“Don’t,” The High Lord cut her off menacingly, “you dare.”

But she was panicked, trying to push past him, to see past him. “What happened? How many people are in there? Beron—”

He was tired of dealing with hysterical females. He gripped her with one hand, so hard that he knew it would bruise. Used the other hand to unsheath his dagger.

She was far too preoccupied to notice as he drove the hilt into the back of her skull, and she crumpled just as Y/N had.

He laid her down on the lawn. By the time she awoke, it would be too late to help.

And then he hurried back inside.

To play the hero.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

lucien tags: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonash @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling @adamgetawaydriver @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @lostpirateinwonderland @scrunklybunny @owllover123 @vangoghsbaby @goodbyemilkyway @babyimagangsta2 @cynicalpotato95

253 notes · View notes

profound-imagination · 1 year

Text

This isn't Goodbye - Eris Vanserra

A/N - Trigger Warnings: Mentions of SA (Very brief and only hinted at) Torture & Injury discussed. Please keep yourselves safe while reading.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Did you hear what he did to that Night Court Princess?" You woke to your father shouting at your mother, she sighed. "You won't keep her away from him, you know she'd follow him anywhere." Eris, they were talking about Eris. You tiptoed to the stairs and sat on the top one listening to them talk, what had gone on? "He left her beaten and near death at the border! Did nothing to help her!" Your father's voice was getting louder. "How can we let her spend time with a monster like that, how do we know she'd be safe? It's bad enough that he was with her when she got injured, half of her face looks like a nightmare now!" Your mother sighed as you cringed, a hand slowly ghosting the side of your scarred face, one of his father's punishments for him, for refusing to take part in the death of Lucien's lover. Sometimes late at night you could still feel the hot blade cut through your face. "Because he's looked after her since she was born and that wasn't his fault!"

That was true, your mother was his mother's best friend and you'd followed Eris around since you could walk. He'd screamed as his brothers held him while his father hurt you, thrashed and fought against the hold they had on him, the only weakness he'd ever shown them. He'd tried to maintain his mask of indifference when you'd been dragged into the throne room, but his resolve had snapped when the blade met your face and you screamed, begging him for help.

He'd been 50 when you were born and you were the only person he was soft with. While others were weary of him, terrified of the fire in his veins, you'd been obsessed with it for as long as you could remember, your favourite trick of his was watching the fire dance across his fingers as your little hands tried to grab it, you didn't succeed very often but when you did it was never hot, it never burned your little hands.

You'd never believe he was a monster or the things others said about him, not when you'd been the first person he'd found after the first war, covered in blood, sweat, cuts and bruises. He'd just appeared in your bedroom, a look on his face you'd never seen, peeled off his armor and crawled into your single bed with you, he'd wrapped you in his arms and cried, a sight you never thought you'd see. "I did it for you." He'd sobbed. "I'll always fight for a better world for you." You said nothing, just let him cry into your hair as he held you.

It had stung, the news of his engagement to The Morrigan, it took you a while to work out why, but ever his loyal friend you stayed by his side. Had gone with him to meet the Princess of Nightmares, she'd made you feel wholly insecure. She was the most beautiful female you had ever seen and you looked plain in comparison, ugly even with the scar on your face. She treated you with nothing but respect and laughed and talked with you, had become your friend. Eris however, she was not fond of, she didn't acknowledge him and it had grated on you but it wasn't your place and you knew he'd hate it if you'd defended him. It was a role he had to play, the one of the arrogant Lordling, selfish, stuck up and too good for anyone, you hated this version of him, but you could see through it, he'd never told you the extent of what he suffered at the hands of his father other than the once incident you were involved in but you'd picked up on it nonetheless. He took it and played this role to protect his mother who he loved more than anything and his littlest brother.

Pulling yourself from the memories and listening to your father continue on at your mother about how you weren't to see him again, you pulled yourself to your feet and grabbed your cloak from your room and slipped down the stairs and out the front door. You had to find him, you had to know what had happened. Instantly regretting not wearing shoes you ran towards the Forest House, nearing the wall you usually scaled to sneak into his quarters you were pulled backwards and your back hit something hard. "Going somewhere?" Eris breathed in your ear, a small smile appearing on your face. "What's happened?! My father's shouting about something happening to Morrigan." He froze and sighed. "She didn't want to marry me, instead she went to one of the Illyrian camps and slept with one of the warriors there, her father saw her delivered to the border, beaten, naked and a note addressed to me nailed into her skin." You flinched. "They're saying you didn't help her, that you just left her there, told your men not to touch her?" He nodded. "I did, by doing nothing I helped her more than she'll ever know. I gave her freedom. I have to go and face my father, take my own consequences, go home my little firesprite, I'll come find you after."

He did not come and find you after, in fact, it was three days later when you'd had enough and gone to him. You had scaled the wall rather successfully but your foot had caught in your skirt as you tried to climb through his window. You'd ended up falling through it more than climbing through it and landed unceremoniously in a heap on his bedroom floor. You pushed your hair out of your face and gasped. Eris was lying in his bed, fast asleep. He was pale, well, more so than usual and his freckles were faint rather than vivid patterns across his nose and cheekbones like they usually were and his face was gaunt.

You didn't bother to stand, you just crawled towards him. Sitting up on your knees you could see him better now, the pale yellow of some of the bruises of his face. The first he'd received when he faced his father and some still angry and dark purple, the finishing blows you knew. You took his broken hand in your own as gently as you could and kissed his knuckles as silent tears dripped down your face. The bruises around his nose and under his eyes told you it had been broken and not yet properly healed. He shifted slightly in his sleep causing his blankets to fall from his chest, now resting just above his hips and your eyes widened when you saw the state of his torso, you turned to the side and vomited. The sound of your retching woke him. He tried to lift himself, to help you but you waved a hand at him, he didn't have the strength and you didn't want him to aggravate any of his wounds. Instead he cleared his throat and croaked. "Surely I don't look that bad my little firesprite?" You waved a hand, your magic cleaning away the mess you'd made emptying your stomach. "He…he branded you." He patted the spot on the bed next to him and you walked around the bed and crawled onto it with him.

"He did." He said weakly. "Why hasn't it healed?" You asked gently as you started gathering his hair to tie it out of his face. "His new favourite tool, a branding iron embude with Fae Bane." You gasped again. "It'll heal, but it'll leave a scar." You rested your forehead against the side of his head. "Oh Eris." He placed a hand on the scarred side of your face. "He's done worse." You would disagree. Eris had spent years apologising to you for your scars. You both knew that you'd never find a husband in Autumn, the males here insisted on perfection but none of them would've been Eris so you didn't care. You knew that was another reason his father had done this to you. You were highborn enough to be a suitable bride for him even with 50 years between you but with your scars, his father would never allow it.

"Let's just go, me and you, let's just run, we can go anywhere." You begged him, he sighed. "You know I can't, that I won't. But I'll ask you again to go to Lucien and Tamlin, live a safe and happy life in Spring." You shook your head. "Never, not without you." You didn't know it then, at that moment, but you had ended up in the Spring Court. Eris had taken you against your will when Amarantha started to come to power. You'd wanted to stay by his side, to stay with him but he wouldn't allow it. He'd fallen to his knees in front of the Spring Lord and begged him to keep you safe, to take you to the human lands, anything. You never thought you'd see Eris Vanserra on his knees or begging for anyone, but he did, for you. Tamlin agreed to keep you safe, Lucien swore to his older brother to keep you safe. "This isn't goodbye my little firesprite." He said as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "It's simply, see you later."

Instead of winnowing home, Lucien held you against his chest as you thrashed against him as you watched Eris' back walk away from you, he turned and looked at you one last time before crossing into the forest between Spring and Autumn. Something snapped in your chest and Eris faltered and hesitated for a second before he carried on walking.

You weren't sure how long you'd stayed on your knees by the front doors of the Spring Court manor, sobbing, screaming for Eris to come back but he didn't, not for nearly 50 years. Not until the human girl Tamlin had brought to the house, Feyre, had saved them all and broken Amarantha's curse. Eris didn't go home, not immediately, instead he winnowed into the forest between Spring and Autumn, the exact place he stood when he winnowed away after leaving you there. It was almost as if it had never happened. He could see you now as he cleared the trees, pacing on the porch of the manor, he knew you'd still be here, Lucien had told him as much. "She won't leave, because that's the first place you'll look for her when this is over." He'd said to his eldest brother.

He felt it that day, the one nearly 50 years ago when he'd taken you to Spring and begged Tamlin to keep you safe. The snap in his chest, the bond between you, his mate. He had spent the following 50 years keeping it shut. You were too good to know of the horrors that happened under the mountain. But he opened it now. Let the bond flood with emotion as he pulled on that invisible thread connecting the two of you. He watched you stop dead in your tracks and your head snap in his direction and then you were running and so was he, towards the parts of yourselves that had been missing for the last 50 years.

The two of you collided and fell backwards, landing in the soft grass, your arms around his neck and you were crying. "I missed you, I missed you, I missed you!" You sobbed over and over again. He cradled you to him, murmuring he missed you more. You pulled yourself together and off of him and searched his eyes. They seemed haunted, traumatised and broken all at the same time. "What happened to you Eris? Under the Mountain?" He closed his eyes and shuddered. "She uh- let's just say Rhysand wasn't the only person she played with." You'd heard the rumors about the High Lord of the Night Court, you'd heard what they called him and it made you sick to think she'd done the same to Eris.

"I'm not ready to talk about it, not yet." You nodded and held his face in your hands, swiping your thumbs gently under his eyes. "If she wasn't already dead, I'd kill her myself." He smiled softly at you. "I know you would my little firesprite." He rested his forehead on yours and breathed "I'm going to kiss you now." You grinned and said. "I'd question you if you didn't."

#acomaf #acosf #acotar #acowar #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar

186 notes · View notes

sisididis · 3 years

Text

At this point, the argument that Lucien couldn't possibly come into his inheritance without inevitably replacing Helion or cutting his life tragically short is so obsolete and feeble.

Countless times, we've been proven that sons and blood relatives of High Lords are granted authority over smaller territories in their native courts.

In ACOWAR, Chapter 11, Lucien explains to Feyre how Beron had shoved his sons out the door to rule over some territory within the Autumn Court lands, whilst Lucien was allowed to study longer and train longer.

In ACOMAF, we learn that Varian is Prince of Adriata and Captain of the High Lord's Guard, while Cresseida, his sister, is Princess of Adriata.

As Tarquin's cousins, they, too, were saddled with their own duties as well as their own degrees of rulership (which are subordinated to Tarquin's supreme rulership).

When Cresseida's sacrifices are called into question, she's said to have made many "on behalf of her people". (Chapter 32, ACOMAF)

As you can see, no member of the royal family is pushed to the side and excluded from ruling (one way or another). And many other mentions of Tarquin's blood relatives are notable in this case:

Brutius, Tarquin's cousin and lording, who ruled over one of the four main cities in the Summer Court, died in ACOTAR after Rhys turned his mind into a puddle.

Nostrus, Tarquin's cousin and immediate predecessor, was killed by Amarantha.

Now, repeat after me.

Lucien can be united with his true father and claim his birth right without drawing Helion's death closer and without overthrowing his father's rule.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

( ´ ˘ `)/♡

95 notes · View notes

elliepassmore · 4 years

Text

A Court of Thorns and Roses Review

5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: fantasy, trials, 1st POV, vague fairy tale retellings, Fae, strong female leads In this first book, Maas weaves a bleak world of humans who either struggle to survive or live in opulence. Feyre and her family have done both, having lost their fortune several years prior to the beginning of the book. The human side of things is what you'd expect from a fantasy village, and reading about it brought to mind the village from the movie Red Riding Hood with Amanda Seyfriend...only with fewer trees, less religion, and more ice. When we get to the Fae side of things, the world turns on its head and it becomes bathed in jewel tones. Through Feyre, we only really get to see a lordling's manor, which is naturally extravagant and lovely. I loved the balance between the beautiful and the downright creepy in this one, because despite the beauty, the world is full of snarling creatures with fangs and claws that are just raring to get a mouthful of a human for the first time in decades or centuries. It's a vague retelling of the original Beauty and the Beast, where the father loses his merchant fortune and the three sisters must move with him into a less wealthy area. Unlike the original, it's the main character, Feyre, who offends the 'beast' and must offer herself as the price. Further flipping the original, Feyre can't really read or write all that well, so her spending time in the library is substituted by her spending time in a paint studio where she tries to capture the beauty and terror of the land. As is typical, though, the curse is complex and the way it wends brings the characters down a dark path for a while. However, for most of the book, it's Feyre with Tamlin or Lucien enjoying the Fae lands of Prythia. Feyre is an interesting one. As much as she struggles and fights to survive each day, she's also content to let Tamlin and Lucien handle things, even if she does sometimes protest and ask to come, she never really takes the initiative to anything to help herself, already exhausted from taking care of herself and her family. She later realizes this is her downfall and does her best to correct it, but it was super interesting to see how her whole perspective shifts after a few months in Prythia. Tamlin is the main love interest, though I can't exactly say I see the appeal since he isn't really around that much. When he is around, at least for the first third of the book, he isn't even all that nice to Feyre, yet somehow the two end up in love...I suppose it happens during some of those afternoon outings, but I didn't feel as though we were really shown why they fell in love, it was more inevitable than anything. When Tamlin attempted to be kind he was, offering up a room in the house for Feyre to paint in and making sure she had plenty of canvases and paints and brushes to use. He also seems rather welcoming to Fae and Faeries from other courts, allowing them to reside or seek sanctuary at the manor. Lucien is the other main Fae that Feyre comes into contact with, and he's decidedly less nice than Tamlin. He makes little effort in terms of Feyre, but somehow their friendship seems more realistic than Tamlin and Feyre's romantic relationship, perhaps because it grew more obviously out of time spent together and reluctant respect. Lucien makes a couple bad calls, but he does attempt to make up for them. Some of the side Fae/Faeries Feyre comes into contact with are Alis, Rhysand, the Suriel, the Attor, and Amarantha, the villain. Alis is Feyre's maidservant and sort of friend. She helps Feyre navigate the ways of the Fae and tries to help her in some of her 'curse breaking' tasks too. Rhysand is the High Lord of the Night Court and not a very nice dude, though he does go to great pains to help keep Feyre alive and healthy, so I'd say he's more of a morally grey character than a villain in this one. The Suriel is a fun recurring character in the series, he can give answers to those who catch him, and he's pretty lenient with Feyre, despite his monstrous appearance. The Attor is just a downright villain, evil because it wants to be, and is described as basically a giant mutant bat monster. Amarantha is the beautiful villain who is basically planning on taking over the world and delights in torturing innocent Fae, Faeries, and humans. The only other humans we really get to know other than Feyre are her sisters and father. Elain is the oldest (I think??) and is a total sweet-heart, even if it doesn't quite sink in for her in the beginning that the money she's spending so freely came from Feyre's hardwork. Nesta seems like the exact opposite until Feyre realizes that Nesta's mostly just angry at their father for giving up on them, and that Nesta might very well be the most loyal of the lot. The father doesn't get much of a characterization, other than that he's spacey and doesn't really bother to help lift the family out of poverty, even when Feyre starts hunting when she's still a child. The world of ACoTaR is complex, with Feyre figuring out one thing only to find there's another issue or obstacle or unknown event. It's fun to try and puzzle out what's going to happen next, even if some of it is more obvious to the reader than it is to Feyre. There's a decent mix of characters who you're not sure if they're good or bad or where they fall in between. It has a pretty different feel compared to ToG, despite both having Fae in them, and I think that despite the similar elements, there's enough of a difference to appreciate one without necessarily liking the other. Overall, I think it's a good book, and a good springboard for the rest of the series.

18 notes · View notes

shipwrexked · 7 years

Text

Gentle Grower of Things Part 1

Ok everyone here it is the poly amorous story of Elaine, Azriel, and Lucien, because REASONS!!

Part 1 of a three part story:

The Illyrian Steppes

Azriel set down gently in a clearing holding Elaine close and firmly. The young girl was still not used to flying and Az remembered well the fear of it. He took that into consideration as he placed her on her feet and then moved back to give her space and to inspect the clearing they had all landed in. Cassian was flying Lucien and he didn’t doubt his brother would be less than considerate of the young lordling. Az didn’t have any particular feelings toward Lucien and didn’t necessarily dislike him but he didn’t fully trust him either. Elaine was the sister of his High Lady and therefore her safety and comfort took precedence over anything else on this trip.If Az was being honest with himself, and he always sought to be brutally honest with himself, he would admit that he didn’t like the idea of Elaine and Lucien being mates. He couldn’t say why this bothered him so much except that he felt a kinship toward Elaine a protectiveness and tenderness that he didn’t feel toward Feyre, Amren or even Mor. Like she was indeed the trembling fawn the Book had named her. Skittish and wary, gentle and kind. Perhaps that is why he felt this way toward her. He hoped to figure it out while the three of them were out here in the woods.

“Oh” sighed Elaine looking up into the treetops her mouth open and her eyes shining bright. “Would you look at that?! It’s amazing Azriel an entire house built right into the trees! Is that where we’ll be staying?”

“It is lady. As beautiful as the Illyrian Steppes are it’s not safe to be out at night on the ground hence why the house is built into the treetops.” Azriel answered her. He did not however inform her that he had built this particular house himself one summer while Rhys was trapped under the mountain. Az liked to build things, to feel the tools in his hands and smell the fresh cut lumber. It quieted his mind and soothed something ragged in his soul. It was a way for him to concentrate and work out problems and puzzles. He had begun this particular tree house a month after learning of Rhy’s demise and he had begun it as a way to think away from the others, to formulate plans and to rage at the injustice of Rhys’s imprisonment. He had decided to bring Elaine to this house because it had brought solace and healing to him at time when he needed it and he hoped it would do the same for Elaine.

“I do wish you’d simply call me Elaine, Azriel as I’m not sure I even am a lady anymore.” Elaine hadn’t given much thought to her changed circumstances since the King of Hyburn had turned her High Fae. It was disconcerting to realize that she was “other” now and who she was before was simply gone. She had such hopes and dreams then of marrying Lord Graysen and being a good wife and mother to him and their future children. Then the Cauldron had happened and for weeks and weeks she’d been trapped inside her own mind. Unable to tell the difference between reality and whatever that grey misty place was where she saw such awful and terrible things. The only way she was able to stay sane was to constantly remind herself that she was to be married, that she wanted to go home, these simple truths repeated over and over again to help anchor her in the now. It was Azriel that had figured out where she was, trapped in her own mind and in that gray hazy place. The winged shadowsinger who was not afraid of shadows and that despite his signs of brutality and abuse was as gentle and kind as one of her flowers. A friend, her first among her new kind and she did not want to be called ‘Lady’ she wanted him to call her Elaine.

There was a loud thump behind Az and Elaine and Elaine could hear Lucien’s heart pounding. She tamped down the smile at her mate’s fear of flying but one look at Az and she knew the laughter was in her eyes.

Lucien hated flying, no hate was not strong enough a word, he loathed flying. He was fairly certain that Azriel and Cassian both used flying as a way to torture him for all the many times he’d bad mouth the Illyrians and their High Lord. Feyre swore she would take him flying as soon as she mastered her wings, just to show him that flying was wonderful but he wasn’t sure he was willing to wait that long to be proven wrong. Dusting his leathers off he turned just in time to see the laughter dancing in his mates eyes, and just like, the discomfort, the fear was worth it. He’d let Cassian drop him from the tallest tree if meant seeing that light in Elaine’s eyes again. For too long they had been empty, sad, vacant. Lucien had hope that this plan of his and Azriel’s would put those shadows and that sadness away. Maybe not all the way away but at least enough for her natural optimism and joy to shine again.

“Are you ready for two weeks in the forest Elaine?” Lucien asked with that crooked smile.

“I’m ready to explore this new world I’ve heard Feyre talk about so much” Elaine smiled slightly at Lucien.

“Almost time to leave the forest floor you two”. Azriel said as he continued to watch the landscape all around.

Thick woods punctuated by narrow streams. Yes the Illyrian Steppes were beautiful but Az knew that that beauty masked danger at night. Dusk fell quickly and by the time that Az had marked the long shadows and impenetrable murk growing between the trees, dark orange and purple streaked the sky. Tonight Cassian would stay with the three of them up in the tree house but he would be gone by dawn back to Velaris and Nesta.

Az flew Elaine up to the tree house and left Lucien to climb up the long way. He wasn’t being intentionally cruel but he knew he’d need to get the fire going so they would have a hot dinner. Az also wanted to be sure that Elaine was given the best room in the house that he’d built. Az had built this room thinking of Mor. The windows faced east to catch the morning sun and he’d had the finest glassmakers in Velaris make the stained glass windows for this room. Windows that depicted flowers in riotous abandon. He knew when the sun began to rise tomorrow morning those windows would turn this room into a jewel box. It would be like waking inside of a beautiful glass garden. He wondered now if perhaps he’d always known on some level that he’d be bringing Elaine to this place and perhaps it was a room he’d subconsciously built for her and not Mor. Embarrassed by his wayward thoughts Az turned to Elaine and said a bit gruffly “Breakfast is early here, perhaps around six thirty, if that suits you la-Elaine”.

Elaine walked into the room that would be hers and gasped in wonder and delight. Of all the fine houses she’d seen and all the fine places in Prythian she’d been to this room, with it’s beautiful stained glass windows, and warm almost glowing wood walls and floors, the beautiful bed that almost appeared as if it grew from the tree itself with its leafy canopy and green comforter was by far and away the most beautiful. She knew right away this room had been lovingly built and furnished for a woman who was loved. Elaine shed her cloak and bonnet and walked around the room stroking the wooden walls, admiring the glas windows, running her fingers over the cool satin of the comforter before turning to Azriel and finding him staring at her.

“What is it Az?” Elaine asked a bit concerned.

“Do you like the room?” Azriel asked her

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, I feel like a fairy queen in this room” Elaine laughed at the irony of it all and she peeked at Az who was smiling back at her.

“I’m glad you like it, this will be your room while we are here. If you want to be alone or undisturbed simply close the door. The bathing pool is through that door to the left and the armoire to hang your things is over there”.

It was a good thing Azriel had stayed to point those things out to her as turning where he pointed it wasn’t exactly obvious where these things were so cleverly had the builder built them into the makeup of the home.

At dinner later that evening Lucien asked Elaine the one question she hardly wanted to think about let alone talk about.

“Elaine have you given any thought to your future here in Prythian?” Lucien asked her.

“I don’t know what I can do, or what I’m good at, I don’t know if I can do anything here in Prythian.” Elaine said “I’m not afraid of working, but I am afraid of being trapped.”

“Trapped?” Lucien and Az echoed each other at the same time.

Elaine had not meant to give voice to her fears of the mating bond but now that it was out she felt she would be cruel to not to elaborate. Lucien did not seem like a bad male and maybe if she spoke of her fears of this mating bond of how she was afraid of it trapping her, giving her no choice but to accept him, maybe he would understand and be patient with her.

“Yes I’m afraid of being trapped, trapped by the...trapped by the mating bond. I don’t mean to make myself sound ungrateful for the gift that the cauldron has given me in you as a mate Lucien. It’s only that I was used to being one thing and now I find that I’m something completely else. Having my life at the whim of another’s would be almost unbearable to me”. Elaine glanced up from her dinner in time to see the pain and hurt in Lucien’s eyes. He thought she didn’t want him but that wasn’t it at all. She simply did not know what she wanted. She didn’t know who she was anymore. She hoped to find out while they were here.

“Is not marriage like this? Strictures and bindings that can become pleasurable?” Azriel asked.

“Are you comparing love to imprisonment Azriel?” Cassian piped in. Indeed it was as if Lucien, Az and Elaine had forgotten he was there at all.

Something stirred in Azriel’s eyes “For some perhaps” he reached across the low table between him and Elaine and grasped her wrist. His fingertips were surprisingly smooth for a warrior but the feeling of them against the thin skin of her wrist left her agitated somehow, as if he’d trailed warm coals across her wrist instead of fingers.

“Here,” Az said hoarsely “I have your wrist captured in my hand. You cannot move it unless I let you, you cannot touch it unless I let you. Complete confinement. But….” Az made light circles on Elaine’s wrist, swirls and eddies around her soft flesh, skipping lightly over the pale blue veins and the delicate tendons, drifting slowly from the palm of her hand to the edge of her sleeve. Az slowly unbuttoned the buttons on her dress sleeve and sliding it up past her elbow watching as goosebumps rose on her arms, on her neck, even on her breasts under the thin wool of her dress. It felt so close to being undressed, to being exposed that Elaine’s breath backed up in her lungs.

Az’s fingers continued their work all while he stared intently at Elaine. “And how does this constraint feel now, Elaine? If I allowed you to withdraw your wrist now, would you?”

“No,” Elaine said, her breathing coming faster. “I would not.”

Azriel bent low, as if to study her wrist, except his mouth was so close to her skin, and then Elaine was aware of her pulse pounding, of her lips parting, and of the flush that was spreading on her face. Lucien cleared his throat snapping Elaine back to the present. She tugged at her wrist but Az didn’t let it go at first. She tugged again and Az merely lifted an eyebrow and at the third tug of her wrist he finally let it drop. Relief and disappointment thrummed through Elaine in equal measure.

“Aren’t you hungry Elaine?” Az asked her.

Strangely she wasn’t, she felt too agitated to eat.

“I am not.”

“You should go to bed then, six thirty comes early in the forest” Az said with a wink at her.

Elaine unconsciously touched her wrist “Goodnight gentleman” she said.

#azriel x elain x lucien #you know me I gotta work the story up to the really smutty stuff #the first part is always more sweet than sin #part two will be smuttier #I'm having way too much fun writing the relationship dynamics between these three #little lucien #Azriel the dom?#post acowar smut

17 notes · View notes