#a court of tangled flames

[shalottpress]

Typesetting will be the end of me.

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 34

(Final chapter!! Huge thank you to everybody who has read/enjoyed this fic. There will be an epilogue to follow...)

Being the lady of the court turned out to be just as tedious as Nesta thought it would be. She was glad the title of high lady would not be thrust upon her – but was there any difference between the two? It was nice to a degree; people were always glad to make her acquaintance but it went on and on and on. Servants and courtiers trailed her every move; they copied her fashion so nearly all of the females now wore their hair in coronets or were seeking ways to lighten it to her shade of burnished gold; she could not walk down the corridor without a gaggle whispering behind her. Eris found it all very funny.  He had taken to calling her mother goose.

When her darling husband offered her the chance to flit away for a few hours in secret, Nesta nearly snapped his hand off in anticipation. No servants, no guards, just smokehounds.

They were returned to the lake that she had once knocked him into. Her lips curled at the memory.

They lay out a thick, red tartan blanket onto a patch of grass. Being near the lake still invoked some fear in Nesta, but a comforting hand from Eris smoothed away her fears. The dogs tore off, one after the other, chasing dragonflies or leaping into the water with no care at all. For a time, Nesta watched them. She held her breath, anticipating one of their smokehounds being pulled to the lakebed by a kelpie. When nothing bad happened, she loosed the breath she’d been holding.

It felt like weeks since she had seen Eris properly – but, in reality, it had only been a week. One week since Beron had died. In that week, Eris had wasted no time in scourging his filth from every corner of the Autumn Court. It was no longer a court of decay and rot, but one of new beginnings and fresh chances. Nearly all of the secret pockets that he had cultivated for many years were unturned so that his followers could be in the open, ushering in change. Lucien had not agreed to re-join the court, but had agreed to a weekly meal with his family, much to his mother’s delight.

They feasted on rolls that were still warm with thick wedges of butter and cheese on top. To ensure she didn’t want to kiss him, Eris gorged himself on pickled onions too.

A brilliant blue sky remained above their head as Nesta forced herself to eat another sticky bun rather than waste it.

‘Do you trust me?’

The question caught Nesta off guard. She paused mid-bite, frowning slightly. Yes, she trusted him. Eris had never given a reason to be doubted so she told him as much.

His hand wound through her hair – the only person she’d allow to do such a thing. ‘There may be a time soon where I will do things where I need you to trust me without question. Know that everything I do is for you.’

‘Follow you blindly?’

She moved onto her knees on the blanket, feeling the slight divots in the earth beneath. His jaw was rigid, mouth a flat line. Although Nesta recognised the cunning in those amber eyes, she still waited for the teasing grin or mischief to brighten his features. When it didn’t come, she pressed, ‘What do you mean?’

‘For innocence’s sake, I won’t tell you. I only ask for your trust.’

It unsettled her, but that reasonable part of her reassured her that Eris was responsible.

‘Thank you for having faith in me.’

‘I always do.’

If only the day could be eternal. He was a high lord and she his wife, but amongst the swaying trees beside the lake, they were just two who were madly in love. She had thought of his words from a few nights earlier – the declaration that their love mattered more because they had chosen each other – and it still had heat blooming in her chest. And it did matter more. Eris had come to her at one of her lowest points and been the steady hand that reached for her, guiding her, comforting her. Love had been an afterthought. Right from the beginning, he had been driven only by a need to see happiness radiate from her once more. Had she ever been happy like this? Every day in Eris’ presence as his wife felt like she was shedding another layer, removing all of the defences that she had built for years and years. Only he knew the real her hidden beneath it – only he deserved to know her. Only he had seen somebody else underneath. Sometimes she felt like a princess trapped in a tower; any prince who had showed interest found the tower too high, too arduous to climb, not worth the effort to try and reach her. Not her Eris.

Her husband had a hand underneath his auburn head, with eyes closed as the sun kissed his pale skin. Nesta had met many types of fae now; some blue with shimmering skin, others with wings or tails. Eris still struck her as the most faerie of all. He was ethereal in a way; those sharp features would be so at odds compared to human men, his keen amber eyes were unlike any she had ever seen before, and the calculation, the ability to always be ahead of anybody else even when it wasn’t his game, was so purely fae.

‘I am very proud of you,’ she murmured, stroking against the smooth skin of his forehead.

He peeped open one eye then shielded his face from the sun shining behind her. ‘What have I done?’

‘Everything. You have done everything. And you do it all before anybody else can even notice. You have the quickest mind of anybody I know and a heart that should never have been allowed to be hidden.’

For centuries, Eris had waded through the taunts as the cruel heir to the Autumn Court throne, relished in it even. But Eris did love, and he loved deeply. He had never been allowed to chance to show it.

Eris tugged her down beside him so they could doze together beside their abandoned picnic.

She extended a hand to keep the hounds from trying to lick her as she cosied up beside Eris. ‘The council want you to have an heir.’

‘I don’t care what they want. My father wanted me to have an heir too. If that’s not a good sign to do the opposite then I do not know what is.’

Nesta swallowed. ‘But you do need an heir.’

Warily, he turned to look at her. He exhaled a long breath. ‘Are you offering your services or do you have something to tell me?’

The hesitation in his expression made Nesta wish she had never broached the subject, but with that intense gaze upon her skin, she had to answer. ‘I want children. Not yet. But I do.’ She swallowed again because her throat was suddenly dry and painful. ‘You do not want children?’

Resting on his elbows, Eris squinted out towards the forest. His eyes tracked a leaf as it broke free from its branch and caught on a light wind. ‘And run the risk I become like him?’

Though he tried to mask it, Nesta saw the raw wound beneath. It was a fear she shared, not for him, but for herself. A cold mother who saw her daughter as a tool to climb the social ranks with. A grandmother who beat her for not meeting their strict standards of perfection.

‘You can be the one to be different. You already are different.’

‘He was once. I have memories of him taking me hunting, teaching me to ride, laughing and lifting me into the air when he caught me sitting on his throne.’ Eris shook his head. ‘It was long ago. I wonder sometimes if they were real – if I made them up because I wanted a father’s love, not his fists.’

She wound her fingers into his. ‘I won’t ever pressure you. If it’s not something you want then-’

‘I do. It’s a fear that will always be there, but I would love to have children with you. Not yet – I plan to enjoy my wife for at least three hundred years because I don’t think I could possibly share you.’ Eris swooped upon her, pressing sloppy kisses on her neck. ‘The idea of you loving someone more than me? Abhorrent.’

‘Can you imagine a smaller version of you? I don’t think I’d be able to cope with two of you. I’d never get a chance to speak.’

It made him chuckle. ‘Imagine my beauty and your brains. Prythian wouldn’t stand a chance with that child.’

He was ridiculous and she loved him for it. Eris rummaged through their basket, eyes brightening with joy at the sight of more smoked cheese hidden at the bottom. He ate it from the block like a mouse.

As a child, with her head filled with dreams, Nesta always imagined herself with two daughters. Two miniature versions of her with the same grey eyes and golden hair. They’d sit and sew and she’d send them off to kind men when they were older. Now in her imaginings, it was a son walking beside her with his own smokehound. A boy with his father’s auburn hair and the same quick talking to get out of trouble. A little boy to share her stories with and spend time in the forest with.

The future wasn’t scary anymore. It was something to look forward to.

‘How private is this place?’

‘Very. Why do you ask?’

Nesta gave a slight smirk. ‘Would you like to undress your wife, high lord?’

It was a summons that Eris could not ignore. He slipped her dress from her shoulder, kissing the bare skin that was exposed then the other so her dress fell around her waist.

‘You next.’

He wasted no time in pulling off his umber, silk waistcoat and unbuttoning the shirt beneath. His eyes trailed from hers down her body. ‘Your turn.’

At the first moments of Nesta removing her shoes, Eris could not resist jumping in. The straps were loosened, the shoes slipped off, then her stockings.

‘Everything?’ His amber eyes canvassed the ivory slip covering her modesty.

Nesta sprawled out on the blanket, tucking her hands beneath her head. ‘I am yours to command, high lord.’

In a practised movement, he yanked his leather belt from his trousers then removed them too. He loved to be naked. Even in the woods.

As the air blew over her bare skin, Nesta gave a little shiver. ‘Cover me.’

His body was always so deliciously warm, but Eris flipped them, so she lay, as bare as the day she was born, on top of him.

‘Your high lord has been working far too hard. You can be on top.’

‘What an honour to bestow on me, oh benevolent one.’

She spread her thighs and guided him inside of her. The contented feeling of being full had Nesta letting out a soft moan. Eris gazed up at her through heavy-lidded eyes, perfectly happy to lay back and let her ride. Nesta raised her hips up and down, feeling his length sliding in and out. The glide was made easy by her arousal. Her hands pressed against his smooth chest, giving her an anchor to brace her weight against. The warmth of his body around her thighs coupled with the whispering wind stroking her back gave into new sensations.  

Eris was lost to her body. His eyes remained fixed on her breasts as they bounced then a warm hand had to be filled by one. He never could resist, despite the shows he made of keeping his attention on her face.

His hips began rising up from the blanket to fill her with all of him. From their hours spent cavorting in the forest, Nesta had shed any hesitations long ago. Her moans came unrestrained, even when Eris pulled her down and clutched onto her. She could do nothing but press her teeth into the flesh of his shoulder as he thrust harder, faster, until all the sense was gone and there was only him.

‘Eris?’

 At the sound of a male’s voice calling through the woods, Nesta flew from her husband as if she had been shocked by a bolt of lightning.

‘Very private?’ She hissed.

With heat burning in her cheeks, Nesta scrambled to turn her clothes the right way round and pull them on hurriedly.

The smokehounds had followed the source of the voice. Their barks shifted to excited whining and yipping.

Eris groaned, pulling on his trousers. ‘Remind me why I removed Lucien’s exile.’

‘It’s Lucien? How does he know about this place?’ Nesta turned for Eris to button the back of her dress up.

‘Who do you think taught him to catch a fish with his bare hands?’

The male jogged towards them, face pale. He made no comment on what he had interrupted in the woods. ‘Feyre. The baby.’

***

The secret city unfurled before them. It wasn’t the sculpted mountains of Illyria or the hard, black stone of the Hewn City. The city was flanked by a winding river that sparkled under the spring sunshine with deepest sapphire. Beyond, lay the sea. There were mountains here, but they were flat-topped and red stone, so unlike the behemoths of Illyria. He filtered through information Nesta had told him and located the home she was imprisoned in, carved into the dizzying height of the mountain. An expanse of buildings built from marble or sandstone covered the city. Eris spied green copper roofs and white chimneys. And not enough trees. It made him shudder. A secret, special city it might have been, but he felt woefully uncomfortable in it.

Lucien had already set off crossing a bridge towards a large estate near the river. Nesta held onto the crook of Eris’ elbow to lead him in pursuit. He tried to examine every inch of the city, to commit it all to memory to record later.

A wraith opened the door before they reached it. She blinked in apparent shyness then slunk away.

‘Fetch your healer,’ came a voice from above.

Mor raced down the stairs then leaped the last couple.

Eris gripped Nesta’s hand tightly. Imploring her to trust him. ‘Where is Cassian?’

‘Eris.’

‘Cassian,’ he repeated to his once-betrothed, without a single care in the world.

The brute lumbered down the stairs at the summons. His hazel eyes washed over Nesta in a familiarity that he had not earned. Eris took another step forward, shielding Nesta slightly.

‘Fetch the healer,’ snapped Mor once more.

Eris held up a finger. ‘No. I don’t think I will bring Orla here.’

He gave a gloating grin though he enjoyed none of this. The trust that Nesta put in him was hanging by a thread and he knew he could not keep pushing it with her sister’s life on the line. Trust me, he wished he could say to her. Trust that I will make this right.

‘I gain nothing from this.’

Beside him, Nesta kept her jaw clenched together. The hand holding his was growing increasingly tighter too, almost painful which he was sure was deliberate.

‘Let’s strike a deal. I bring my wonderful healer. The high lady is saved. The high lord is saved. The heir to the Night Court is saved. And then I want nothing more to do with this court.’

‘With pleasure,’ snarled Mor.

Eris tutted. ‘You didn’t let me finish, Morrigan. In return, Cassian must sever the bond with my wife.’

***

The absolute bastard.

He’d hold Feyre’s life ransom for this. He hated the male. Hated that either way, Cassian lost. Choose Feyre’s life and he’d lost his mate. Choose Nesta and he’d still lose her for picking her over her sister’s life, then lose Feyre and Rhys too. There really was only one option, but it would ruin him.

‘Tick tock, Cassian,’ said Eris, a slow smile spreading across his sharp face, knowing the battle that raged inside of his head.  

Cassian turned to Nesta, begged her to at least look at him rather than looking through them. She did not even notice his attention. Eris did. His spine stiffened then he said, ‘Sever the bond or we go home. Your high lady will die.’

Mor turned her attention on Nesta. ‘She is your fucking sister, you heartless bitch.’

‘Stop,’ Cassian said, voice hard and firm before Eris could inevitably defend his wife. Indeed, the male’s lip was pulled back, ready to spit vitriol towards Mor.

Cassian knew he should have said stop long ago. Should never have let Mor speak badly of Nesta to him, never have entertained her need to put a buffer between herself and Azriel by using him. Every time that he let Mor chip away at Nesta, it put distance between him and his mate. She was too far to reach now. The comfort that she had needed had been found in a different male’s arms. The gentle care he should have given her was offered by a different male; one who appreciated every part of her.  

Eris had won long ago. The bastard changed the rules at every turn, did things that only he had the slipperiness to do. He had out-manoeuvred Cassian at every turn.

Rhys would never ask him to break a bond, would never put that on him. But his high lord was going to die. His high lady was dying now. How could Cassian live with himself if he let them die for the sake of a bond that Nesta didn’t even want?

His world felt as if it was collapsing in on itself. He should never have taken her on the hike. Should have gone to her straight after the war and been the male she needed.

‘I’ll sever the bond.’

‘Took a little time for your mind to calculate that,’ said Eris with another false smile. ‘Normal with so many blows to the head. I want it done officially. Forgive me for not trusting an Illyrian’s word. Make a deal with me; a magical vow that you cannot circumvent.’

Mor seethed beside them and even Lucien appeared uncomfortable by this arrangement. Cassian still looked to Nesta, imploring her to look at him, just once. The female remained with her grey eyes down at the floor even when Eris extended a hand to Cassian to confirm their deal. Ink sizzled against his skin – the golden burn of autumn wrapped around his wrist in four coils of ivy.

‘Darling, will you fetch Orla. I’ll remain here.’

Nesta’s hand slipped out of Eris’ then she was gone, winnowed away. He had not known she even possessed the ability to do it. They’d been more focused on thrusting a blade into her hand than to recognise the weapons already in her arsenal.

‘You are a fucking bastard, Eris. You always have been. Always will be.’ Mor’s face was white with fury.

‘Do you know why I left you in those woods?’

Her face blanched then. Cassian took a step closer to her. ‘We’re not talking about-’

‘You know,’ he said softly, almost tenderly. ‘You’ve always known why. You would have fallen to rot and ruin in my court. The kindest thing I could do was push you away. You won’t ever admit that I could be kind to you.’

A tear dropped down her cheek. ‘You call leaving me bleeding in the woods kindness?’

‘What did you want, Morrigan? For me to gallantly carry you to the Forest House and present you to my father? You know that Beron has always been worse than Kier. You know what he would have done to you.’ The intensity of his stare was alarming. Cassian had never seen the male so white-hot with his anger. It was quiet but not powerless. The breath before the storm. For five hundred years, he had weathered being the cruel betrothed who had left Mor bleeding in his forest. ‘If you want me to be the villain, that’s who I will be. I would have been kind to you, make no mistake, but I did what was best for you, even if you cannot accept that. I would never have hurt you, but do not think for one second that I will not bring down the sky on anybody who dares to make my wife unhappy – and that includes you. You will not speak badly of her again.’

All of them were in a stark silence when Nesta finally winnowed back to them with the healer. A heavy bag was in her hand, her hair drawn into a long braid. Wasting no time, or to break the stalemate, Lucien gave a nod then led the way up the stairs.

‘How long has she been bleeding?’

‘Long enough,’ came Mor’s sharp reply.

In a plush bedroom, the high lady lay on the bed, face as pale as the grave. Sweat mottled her brow. Rhys had his head in his hands beside her, bereft with worry and Elain gripped Feyre’s frail hand. Both Amren and Azriel stood against a wall, faces equally grave.

Madja hovered over her, sending waves of magic to manage the pain. ‘She’s very weak.’

‘Why didn’t you do something sooner?’ The Autumn healer spat. ‘Before it got this far.’

‘A babe is treasured.’

‘Not above its mother. Move.’

The healer’s hands went to Feyre’s stomach, feeling the position of the babe. Her brow pulled downwards and Cassian felt his stomach tighten in horror.

‘I need to cut her and it needs to be now.’

There was a battle to be heard amongst the voices. It suddenly seemed like a terrifying idea to have a healer from the Autumn Court near Feyre. Rhys made that fact known. As did Mor and Amren, who called her a butcher. Eris retaliated.  Lucien called for peace. Then Nesta wrapped the room in her unholy silver fire and demanded that anybody who did not want to be incinerated should leave at once to give Orla peace.

All of them waited in the hallway outside, sick to their stomachs – bar one. Eris kept his eyes fixed upon the door as if he could see through it, face calm. Azriel paced. Other than that, they were silent. Only the Archerons, Rhys, and the healers remained in the bedroom.

The enduring silence went on and on, echoing through the halls of the river estate.

Then, the smallest cry rang out.

Cassian felt his heart tighten at the sound. The siphons on his leathers pulsed in answer to it.

Their boy was born.

Only time would tell about Feyre.

Mor’s hand gripped his in the quiet hallway. The cry only came once – a tiny, delicate thing.

‘If she’s died because you delayed-’

Eris waved a hand through the air. ‘She was going to die without Orla’s help regardless. Tell Rhysand not to fuck his wife when she has wings.’ His eyes flitted to Cassian. Disgust flashed on his face at the sight of his wings. ‘Thank goodness Nesta will never be in this situation.’

‘She is his mate,’ came Amren’s voice.

Eris snorted. ‘Not for much longer.’

***

It had been the most terrifying thing that Nesta had ever witnessed. A cold fear had gripped her throughout. At one point, Elain had even snatched Rhysand’s hand while Madja pressed a hand over her mouth.

Nothing seemed to scare Orla though. That steadfastness prevailed. Always calm, always steady.  She worked with precision, issuing clear orders to Nesta to follow. Her entire mind shut down and just listened to the healer’s commands. Applied pressure where she was told to. Held gauze where Orla pointed to.

When the babe was born, Madja took him, which left Orla to guide Feyre through the land of the living. Her hands never tired as she stitched the skin together. She pressed Nesta constantly to inform her on Feyre’s breathing – how shallow, how quick – or to count her pulse.

Then it was done.

Feyre slept in an enchanted sleep, but Orla was happy that she was stable. The healer’s fire leapt up in the hearth, flooding the room with a warmth that felt unnecessary for such a beautiful spring day, but she insisted that Feyre must be kept warm.

The babe was in Elain’s arms now, slumbering already.

‘A difficult pregnancy makes for an easy baby,’ said Orla, a smile quirking on her lips.

Nesta wasn’t sure if Rhysand had even looked at the child. All of his attention had been on his mate. The horror still hadn’t quite left his expression. One of her hands remained clasped between hers as she slept.

‘Congratulations,’ said Nesta. ‘You have a son, high lord.’

Madja cleared her throat. ‘You have a daughter, actually.’

A crop of dark hair was just visible beneath the blanket the babe had been swaddled in as well as two soft peaks from her wings. A girl. That was unexpected.

Surprise flooded his expression as he took his daughter into his arms. He gently tilted her towards Feyre, as if she might suddenly wake.

‘I hear Orla is an excellent name,’ said Nesta, giving the female a true smile.

In the quiet surrounding them, the two healers cleaned up. Nesta peered over Rhys’ shoulder to inspect her niece. A new born was always quite strange. Her nose was a little squashed still and her face was wrinkled in slumber, but she was a tiny thing, born a few months too soon. Nesta stroked against the tiny fingernails, marvelling over something so little.

‘Do you want to hold her?’

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes met Rhysand’s strange coloured ones. Carefully, she took the precious bundle into her arms as she sat beside him at Feyre’s bedside. The room fell into a different sort of quiet, a relaxed hush.

After a time, Rhysand said, ‘Thank you.’

Nesta shrugged. ‘It was all Orla.’

But his hand settled on hers, covering it where she held his child. ‘Thank you.’

Eventually, she gave the babe back to her father although she could have held onto her forever. Her lips had parted as she slept and Nesta found it increasingly different to tear her gaze away.

‘Shall I let them know that we’re all okay?’ Elain wrung her hands together.

One by one they filed into the room in reverent silence, even Eris. He didn’t go to Nesta; instead, the male went straight to Orla and brought her into a bone-crunching embrace. ‘You magnificent thing.’

‘She really was,’ emphasised Rhys. The babe was still cradled to his chest and he seemed unwilling to let her go to anybody else again.

‘I’d feel better if I could stay the night for observations.’

With the hope still burning in his eyes, Nesta thought Rhysand might offer to build Orla a house there and then to house her in and keep her close.

‘I’m not comfortable with that,’ interjected Eris. ‘Unless she has a guard from my court. Orla is too precious to leave in this city.’

Opposite her, Nesta saw Azriel recoil because he knew exactly who that guard would be though he was too good to say anything when Eris raised the topic of bringing Niamh into Velaris. Mother help them all with her on the loose.

Both Nesta and Orla had blood on their clothes. She wanted to scrub her sister’s blood off of her person. The blood of Hybern’s king hadn’t even registered with her when it had showered her body, but because these stains belonged to her younger sister, Nesta wanted to be away – as much as she wanted to stay at her bedside. Sensing her discomfort, the way she plucked at her gown and pulled it away from her body, Eris spoke.

‘Orla will return soon with her guard,’ explained Eris. ‘We must return to our court. You never know who might try and sit on my throne while I’m gone. Congratulations, Rhysand.’

‘We’ll finish our deal another time,’ said Nesta, catching Cassian’s eyes. The pain lancing down the bond from his end almost brought her to her knees. He gave a muted nod in response.

Elain looked between them. ‘What deal?’  

Nobody gave her an answer, not even Mor. Nesta was sure it would be the topic of discussion once they departed.

Orla swept a hand across Feyre’s forehead. ‘She’ll be asleep for some time. Bed rest for at least two weeks. And I mean that. The babe must be placed into her arms, taken from them. No movement. No lifting. No twisting. Rest. I’ve stitched her as if she was mortal. Her body will heal quicker than a mortal’s would, but rest is essential.’ She gave a stern look to Rhysand; rather than speaking to one of the most powerful high lords in history, it almost looked as if a mother was telling off her naughty child. ‘And I suppose I do not need to warn you never to conceive in an Illyrian form again?’

‘Certainly not,’ he replied.

***

A week blew by then a second. Orla had spent two nights in Velaris as well as frequent visits to ensure both mother and child were well. They were, thankfully. Although the girl was small, she was strong. Feyre had woken and was sorely disappointed to not be able to leave the bed. Niamh had it worse. She lamented to Eris that they had been on house arrest so she could not truly explore the city for him.

‘I went to the bathroom and Azriel demanded I keep the door open an inch because he didn’t trust me.’

‘In case you climbed out of the window,’ he offered.

Niamh grunted. ‘Well, I would have – but he didn’t know that.’

Tea dribbled from the spout as Nesta poured tea for them. ‘Did you really urinate with Azriel waiting by the door? I think I wouldn’t be able to.’

Niamh flashed a grin. ‘For his cheek, I left the door wide open so he had no choice but to watch.’

‘Why must you torment that kind male?’ Orla shook her head in dismay then sliced up the cake she’d made that day for them.

‘Speaking of kind males, how many more gifts have arrived?’

A blush spread across Orla’s freckled cheeks and Lucien rolled his eyes. ‘I had to bring another bouquet of flowers and a locket with rubies encrusted in it with me.’

There had been a black gelding, new supplies for healing and baking, a lot of expensive jewellery, perfume, and offers of a new house from the High Lord of the Night Court. It seemed that Rhysand couldn’t quite work out the equivalent value in gifts for his, his mate’s and his daughter’s life.

Nesta frowned. ‘He better not be trying to poach you from us.’

‘Let’s do a swap,’ suggested Niamh. ‘They get Orla, we get Lucien permanently.’

Eris shook his head. ‘Little Lucien is slowly being coaxed back by his mama.’ At this, Lucien groaned. ‘And Orla is too precious. I will never ever let her leave.’

‘I’m contemplating it. When was the last time you bought me a horse, Eris?’

He threw out his hands. ‘I’ll buy you one of Helion’s pegasi if that’s what you desire.’

‘You can’t go. We’ll need you to deliver our baby.’

At Nesta’s words, a ripple of excitement went around the healer’s kitchen. Eris couldn’t breathe.

‘You’re pregnant?’ Orla got to her feet, ready to pull Nesta into an embrace.

‘First I’ve heard of it,’ replied Eris, heart still not beating properly.

Poor Nesta had gone scarlet. ‘No, I meant in the future. In the future, we will need you, Orla. Not any time soon.’

She wiped a hand across her forehead, pushing out a breath.

‘In three hundred years,’ added Eris.

Niamh let out a long cackle. ‘Will it take you that long to figure out what to do with that thing in your pants, Eris?’

‘I think you all forget that I am your high lord and I can quite easily have you executed for mocking me.’

The wild female covered her mouth then whispered loudly, ‘He doesn’t know what to do with it.’

He eyed her closely. ‘I might trade you for Lucien to be rid of you.’

‘Don’t do that to Azriel,’ said Nesta, smirking.

Considering where they were headed that day, Nesta was doing remarkably well. The ink on Eris’ wrist itched more each day that it wasn’t fulfilled and Cassian likely felt the same. It had been arranged by Lucien though he had been good enough not spill any of the nasty things that had likely been said of them. They were permitted to return to Velaris for it, perhaps to protect the Illyrian so he could grieve the bond there rather than Illyria or the Hewn City. It had to be done by somebody who knew spell-work, so Helion would be the one to do it. Eris didn’t trust him, but he just wanted rid of the bond so wasn’t about to be picky. As long as it got done.

When the time came, they readied themselves in the Forest House. Ashur and some of his trusted males would be ready to guard the Forest House in case Cassian reacted badly to the separation. After a battle, Eris had relented to the whims of females and his mother would also come to offer support to Nesta. As much as they loved each other, sometimes a female needed another female. Sometimes they just needed a mother to comfort them. He was glad his could be both to Nesta. They had become close, spending time together when he was busy – or even when he wasn’t. Sometimes they sought each other out without him. He knew Nesta needed more friends in this court, but the two she wanted would not be available for this. Nesta could not rely on Emerie and Gwyn in their court because it was too close to Cassian whilst the wound was recent.   

‘Nervous?’

‘Yes. And excited. Relieved. Worried. All of it. All at once.’

‘You’re sure?’

Nesta heaved out a sigh as she adjusted her gown in the mirror. ‘Absolutely.’

They winnowed again to the vast river estate. It was oddly formal as they were accepted by one of the wraiths into a drawing room then tea was offered. Lucien tried hard to give off a casual demeanour, but he kept close to their mother’s side.

It wasn’t Beron that Eris got his cleverness from. Since her husband’s death, his mother’s confidence had grown once more. It had been her who had suggested to Nesta that she could accompany them. As her russet eyes blinked around the room, Eris had to wonder if she was on the lookout for a different Archeron sister. Poor Lucien had endured many questions about his elusive mate. To all of them, he had skirted the truth, even when she had asked when Elain would be brought home for dinner.

‘Hurrah, I am allowed out of bed.’

A pale Feyre Archeron stepped into the room. There were shadows beneath her eyes, but she managed a smile. Nesta went to her and gave her a gentle embrace that surprised both of them.

‘Where is Elin?’

Elin. Named after the high lord’s deceased sister.

‘She has produced something that smells like it came from hell and it’s all over her back so Rhys is dealing with that. It’s too strenuous for me.’ She tapped her abdomen lightly then winked.

They sat in a strange silence. Nobody seemed able to think of any topics of conversation. Thankfully, voices filtered in as they approached.

Helion entered first. His dazzling white clothes had Eris wanting to shield his eyes. Coupled with it, were a golden crown and a band around his muscled upper arm. ‘Nesta Archeron, more beautiful every time...’

The high lord’s voice trailed away as his gaze snagged on a different female.

‘Eliška.’

‘Helion,’ came the curt reply. ‘You were saying how beautiful my daughter is.’

‘Yes.’

But the high lord could not move. Could not speak. He was rooted to the spot, staring at Eris’ mother – much to his annoyance. Maybe it was not Elain Archeron she had planned to meet at all. In that moment, Helion did not look like a swaggering high lord who ploughed his way through countless courts with his charm and appearance. To Eris, he looked like a lovestruck puppy who couldn’t pick his jaw off the floor.

Eris had taken it as a given that Helion would be besotted with Nesta, but his mother too? He and Lucien exchanged a grimace.

The others had stopped behind Helion, wondering what had attracted his attention. Elain shuffled forwards, her pink gown sweeping around the floor.

Lucien swallowed. ‘Mother, this is my Elain. My mat-. Elain.’

Eris felt an elbow in his ribs then Nesta murmured, ‘What the hell is going in this room?’

‘I wish I knew.’

The Illyrians followed in then the high lord with a now-clean babe against his chest, making the room feel a lot smaller than it was.

‘Shall we do this?’ Cassian said it as if it was no more a burden than tidying up. A simple thing that wouldn’t have everlasting repercussions on any of them.

Nesta hooked a finger against his. ‘The trust I gave you here – return it to me.’ She swallowed, then in a louder voice announced, ‘There doesn’t need to be an audience for this. Only me and Cassian need to be there. And, you, of course, Helion.’

The male was hardly listening. Dark eyes were still unbearably staring at Eris’ mother. He’d known they had once been friends. They were the same age. Their fathers had traded goods. She’d mentioned him a handful of times many years earlier, cried even when he became high lord under the mountain after his family’s slaughter. But this was something else. Something Eris did not like. Nor did he like his wife being alone with either of those two males.

Let her do this, sweetheart.

It was his mother’s voice broaching the walls of his mind.

Give them privacy in such an intimate moment.

Mother knows best, I suppose? He replied.

Always.

***

Nesta could not fight the tremble in her hands. Her mood had been jittery all morning, unable to settle fully in anticipation of what lay ahead. And nobody truly knew what did lay ahead. Eris had found dozens of accounts across history of mates who had lost their other half and it never fared well, but for those who chose to end the bond, it was marginally better for the females. Despite everything that had happened between them, Nesta still worried for Cassian. Worried about how he would take this rejection. She knew he’d had nobody growing up until Rhysand stepped in. Knew this was special to him. It was silly to care so much for him when it wasn’t shared. If he had put her first, maybe they would never have gotten here.

His gaze was painful. She’d tried not to look at him the last time she was here, delivering Feyre’s child. It hurt too much to be near him. Despite the best intentions of not letting emotions in, they found a way to creep into every crack that Nesta hadn’t managed to plug. From reading the accounts provided by Eris, she understood what mates were – their rarity, the uniqueness of a bond. To take that from Cassian seemed cruel even for her. But Nesta did not want that. She did not want to be tied to him any longer. Maybe if the bond had never been there, he’d never have looked twice at her. Maybe he’d have loved her for who she was and not who he wanted her to be.

‘High lady soon then, Nes?’

She stiffened at the address. There was no warmth in Cassian’s expression either.

‘No. I do not want that.’

‘I’m sure Eris does.’

Nesta swallowed against the dryness of her throat. ‘No. He respects my wishes.’

That’s why we are in this situation, she wanted to add, because I have a mate who does not and a husband who does.

‘This is what you want? If Eris has forced you into it, we’ll break the deal somehow. I’ll find a way to do it, Nes. Just come home to me. I don’t care about the last few months with Eris. It doesn’t matter.’ Cassian swallowed. ‘I want you to come home.’

Her brow pinched. It was all about him. Him needing her home. Wanting her home. Not because he loved her – had he ever said it? Not because of who she was. Couldn’t he see the changes in her since leaving the Night Court?  

‘This was never my home.’

‘Yes, it was.’

She gave him a wilting smile. ‘When I had been forced into the Cauldron or when you trapped me in the House of Wind? You have never wanted to see me grow.’

Cassian frowned, eyes narrowing. ‘I didn’t want to see you hurting anymore.’

There was no anger in her voice, no rising tones. Just a realisation that this was how it should be. ‘You put me in a box and decided that was how I should be. You cut off all of my thorns rather than be careful around them. Eris is the sun who caused me to grow and even to bloom. He didn’t know who I’d become, but he’s happy with whoever I am. I’m not Morrigan. I’m not Feyre. Maybe if you had realised that sooner, you wouldn’t have hurt me for not being them.’

Helion began his spell work; firstly, he sought their bond by teasing it out from the depths then came the arduous process of unravelling it.

‘Every bond is unique. They differ in their makeup, making it more difficult sometimes to break it. There are some bonds – I’d wager Azriel’s would be if he finds a mate – that are like smoke, unable to be touched properly, harder to find. Some are like spun threads, tangled together.’ Helion gave a soft chuckle. ‘Yours, unsurprisingly, is like steel.’

‘Can you break it?’

Was that hope in Cassian’s voice? A promise that maybe Nesta would remain tied to him for an eternity. The thought made Nesta sick to her stomach. She never wanted to be owned.

‘I’ll manage, but it will take some time.’

Time was something that Nesta had centuries of. It didn’t matter how long it took as long as it was done.

It was odd and unpleasant. There was a constant tug against her ribs and chest like something being forcibly pulled or dislodged. Occasionally, Nesta noticed a slight grimace on Cassian’s lips to match the wrench of magic through their bodies.

Although it was brutal of Eris to demand the end of the bond for saving Feyre, only he could be bold enough to do it – and she would always thank him for it. Eris did what needed to be done. He always did. The thought of a lifetime with him, at his side – never behind – was the sunshine that pulled Nesta through this process. Every tug of magic, every white-hot lance of pain, was a step closer to a future with her husband. No Cassian. No Beron. No scheming. Well, maybe a little scheming because Eris would struggle to give it up. No matter what happened with Briallyn or Koschei, she had a husband who would stop the world from turning to protect her.

Nesta knew it was done before Helion announced it. Something was missing. She couldn’t say what, only that her body knew that something had been taken away. There was a dull ache in its place where Helion had sawed and unravelled the bond. Cassian, too, was rubbing beneath his ribs as if trying to soothe a pain.

Helion departed quietly, giving them a moment to decompress.

‘I hope you’re happy now,’ muttered Cassian.

It was only relief that flooded Nesta’s body.

‘If you think me so vindictive, why did you want me to keep the bond? You paint me as a villain at every turn and then wonder why I can’t love you.’

‘You’d never have loved a bastard-born Illyrian anyway.’

Nesta swallowed. ‘I wanted to. I wanted you so badly it hurt sometimes.’

It was dangerous to push like this when the bond had been wrenched away from him against his will, but Nesta struggled to play nice and jail her tongue, not when Cassian and Morrigan would peck from her at every turn.

‘You should have loved me, Cassian. You should have loved me like I deserved.’

Anger simmered in his hazel eyes. ‘If Eris hadn’t stolen you-’

Her voice cracked like a whip, silencing him. ‘You had me march behind you until I collapsed then you left me outside of your tent. Anything could have hurt me, Cassian. Anything could have taken me. Do not blame Eris that you were a terrible partner who wanted me to suffer to please your high lord.’ Nesta did not know why she was telling Cassian this. Perhaps because this would be the last time they’d have to meet this way. ‘Do you know why I married Eris? So that I wouldn’t be forced back to this court. He put himself in danger from his father and all of you to protect me. It wasn’t love until the Winter Court ball when I realised that he didn’t expect anything from me except to be happy.’

Without realising it, Nesta had got to her feet and loomed over Cassian who still sat on the low-slung couch.

‘So don’t you dare blame him for ruining us when it was all your doing. The bond is severed, Cassian. I hope this is the last time I’m forced to endure your company. Goodbye.’

Colour likely dotted her cheeks as she exited back to the living room. She tried to hold on as long as she could – past the people gathered in the living room – told herself she was the Lady of the Autumn Court now and crying or breaking down in front of the Night Court was not an option.

‘Let’s go home,’ she managed to say as she reached for Eris’ hand. Her mother-in-law stood too, sweeping her head into a graceful incline then took Eris’ other hand.

Dappled sunlight filtered through the gaps in the broad canopies and Nesta let out her sigh of relief to be back in the Autumn Court. Eris’ grip on her hand was tight as if he was scared that she might disappear.

Ashur lingered by the gates to the Autumn Court ready to escort them back inside the grounds, but instead he lifted a bundle from the ground and passed it to Eris then extended an elbow for Eliška. ‘See you later.’

Whatever Eris had planned, Nesta did not want it. She wanted to bury her head beneath the blankets and hide from the encroaching bad mood. A thumb swept against her cheek. His eyes were forlorn, but still he did not speak, only pulled an arm around her to winnow them somewhere.

A wind nipped at her cheeks. They stood upon a stone bridge leading to an island. Atop it was a weathered, stone castle. It wasn’t beautiful like one from a story; it reminded Nesta of a gnarled, old man that had withstood the test of time. Rugged hills stretched out beyond the water, tucking the island away from view.

‘What is this place?’

Eris kissed her temple. ‘Home.’

Her eyes sharpened on the quiet hills. The song of birds soaked into her skin. The landscape was gorgeous, with purple heather streaking the inclines and the sun reflecting off the rippling blue ocean.

‘It was once a residence of the high lords of this court, but my father loathed it. Said it was too isolated – a place for cowards to hide.’ He took Nesta by the hand, leading her over the stone walkway. She realised then that Ashur had presented them with another picnic after their previous one had been interrupted. ‘It is isolated. Apart from a handful of sleepy villages, it’s unknown. It is not on any map because the wards are as good as Velaris’. It is a place for peace. I know the Forest House can be overwhelming, so if you desire a place for privacy then this can be our home.’

When Nesta tried to speak, Eris brushed his thumb against her lips. ‘We can both winnow. It is no issue to return to the Forest House for council meetings. I just want you to be somewhere where you’re comfortable and happy and where you feel safest.’

A castle. Her strange mood had shifted to disbelief. Not because Eris had presented a castle to her, but because he appeared bashful and nervous for once.

They walked through the lofty halls whilst Eris suggested changes they could make, if she approved them, if there were rooms she desired. The stables had already been cleaned ready to bring the horses and there were kennels on the land so the dogs did not have to live in the house though she was sure Safera would not be happy with the arrangement. There was a library which peaked her interest, but the part that made her love him even more was when Eris stopped in a large room that was high enough in the castle to peer out at the snow-capped peaks of the Winter Court in the distance.

‘And this one is large enough for three beds for when we manage to coax Emerie and Gwyneth here.’

Her bottom lip began wobbling.

‘Don’t cry,’ Eris murmured, drawing her close and cupping her cheek. ‘Please, don’t cry. Was it painful with Helion and-’

‘Nobody has ever loved me like you.’

His amber eyes canvassed her face then a lingering kiss was pressed to her forehead. ‘Then more fool them for not appreciating how utterly spectacular you are. From the moment that you stood up against every high lord to tell your story – to make them all listen – I was enchanted by you.’

‘I want to live here with you. I would live in a world without the sun if it was at your side.’ Nesta gave a small laugh as she held onto his arm. ‘Eris, I would follow you into the dark just to hold your hand.’

The nervousness came over him again. He nodded, swallowing audibly, as he peeled himself out of her grip. In his pocket, he reached for something then knelt onto one knee.

‘Will you marry me?’

Nesta’s fingers tangled within his hair. ‘We’re already married.’

‘It was under duress. A rushed ceremony in a nightgown. You deserve better. I know this is the mortal way. Will you marry me again? Marry me properly?’

‘Yes. In every lifetime.’  

Ahhhh it's over. Once again, thank you so much for reading. I hope I've given Neris a worthy story. The castle at the end is based upon Eilean Donan Castle in the Scottish Highlands which is just gorgeous. Rhys might build Feyre a fancy estate but Eris got his princess a castle.

Tags: @owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @this-is-rochelle @sv0430 @embersofwildfire

[illyrianhighfaerie]

For those who don't know, I'm translating A Court of Tangled Flames by @theladyofbloodshed into Portuguese! I just posted the second chapter, so whoever wants to read it in Portuguese bc they're lazy, just click here.

Pra quem não sabe, eu estou traduzindo A Court of Tangled Flames da @theladyofbloodshed! Eu acabei de postar o segundo capítulo, então quem quiser ler em Português porque tem preguiça, só clicar aqui.

[ramim]

Lucien is:

And nothing can change my mind!

[captain-hawks]

tetsurou kuroo x f!reader

say it

summary: If you don't call him Tetsurou while you're having sex, you can still pretend this thing between you and Kuroo is casual, right? (Wrong.)

word count: 1.3k

content: Nekoma University!Kuroo, NSFW, 18+, smut, friends with benefits to lovers speed run, name kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, fingering, oral sex, this was going to be PWP but the feels said no

Be it on the court or off, there’s something to be said about Tetsurou Kuroo’s timing.

It’s how you found yourself so enamored by him in the first place, after all. Months ago, when your friends drug you along to your university's enormous gymnasium to watch the men’s volleyball team play a practice match with a local rival between classes, you didn’t think you knew enough about the sport to drum up much interest from your unassuming place in the back of the stands—until your eyes landed on a tall, loud player with the number ‘1’ adorned across his red jersey.

But it wasn’t just his height or the way he ceaselessly commanded Nekoma’s side of the court that kept your rapt attention, it was the way he moved. 

Tetsurou Kuroo—a name you caught your friends whispering after he scored a point that had the gathered crowd roaring in excitement—had a mesmerizing knack for timing his movements to make the most of each and every square inch of the court. 

And you?

You may have known shit all about volleyball, but fuck if just watching him didn’t set your heart racing. 

Sometimes you can’t help but laugh at the irony—the way Kuroo collided with you in a busy hallway days later, setting off a dangerously flirtatious chain of events that would eventually find the two of you tangled in his sheets, naked and sated and gasping for air. 

It was casual then; you went into this arrangement under no false pretenses. 

And...it’s still casual now, despite the fact that you know beyond a shadow of doubt that neither of you is fucking anyone else.

Despite the fact that you wake up in Kuroo’s bed more often than your own, to the point where rolling over in the morning to inhale the scent of your own laundry detergent on the pillowcase beside you feels almost wrong at this point. 

Despite the fact that at one point or another, he suddenly made a habit of calling you after every one his away matches—just to talk, just to say goodnight. 

Despite the fact that, somewhere along the way, he started kissing you more softly. There are still hurried, frantic kisses, ones full of hunger and lust that leave your lips swollen and your thighs clenching with need, your entire body arching into his touch like a moth to a flame. But now, there are kisses without an agenda. Kisses with no beginning, middle, nor end. 

Just Kuroo’s mouth slotted against yours, a callused thumb brushing gently along the curve of your jaw.

But it’s casual, even if there’s a dull, quiet ache in your chest that protests otherwise each time his hands settle on your waist. 

And the completely, utterly, inarguably casual nature of your relationship is why you find yourself choking down the words you really want to say as Kuroo’s fingers curl inside of you right now, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you swallow down something that’s far too intimate for what this really is.

Tetsurou.

Tetsurou.

Tetsurou.

His given name is always caught in your throat at times like this, yearning to climb up your tongue and burst out through your teeth. 

Your name leaves his lips effortlessly, like it’s as easy as breathing. Like he hardly has to think twice. And the way his deep voice traverses each letter now, his lips slick with your arousal as he firmly slides his tongue over your clit? It drags down your spine with a white-hot, iron grip. 

It’s casual.

It’s fucking casual.

Your limbs are still trembling from the force of your first orgasm when he begins to ease his length into your entrance, your wet cunt welcoming the thick, familiar stretch of his cock. 

(You try not to think too hard about the fact that the exclusivity of your casual arrangement somehow led to this—no condom separating your tight, drenched walls from the leaking, pulsing need of his shaft.)

(And yet you still can’t fucking say it when you're like this with him, naked and vulnerable and wanting.)

(Tetsurou.)

(Tetsurou.)

Deep down, you know it’s because you’re scared.

You’re scared because he hasn’t mentioned the way you dance around it during sex. You’ve convinced yourself that despite how absolutely not casual this whole goddamn situation has become, the intimacy of using his name now is what will break the fragile glass of this façade you’ve both built. He’ll realize you’ve both grown too comfortable, too attached, roots burrowed and trapped beneath concrete. 

He’ll pluck you from his life like a hapless dandelion that’s sprouted between the unforgiving cracks in the sidewalk.

So even though his name is like a mantra in your mind as he cradles the side of your face, his hazel eyes trained on yours, black hair sticking up in every direction from the way you’d carded your fingers through it while his tongue was buried inside of you, you don’t say it.

“Kuroo,” you exhale as he drags his teeth down the side of your neck, mouthing at your collarbone while he rocks his hips into yours.

“Kuroo,” you gasp, while he rolls your pebbled nipples between his fingers and drives his cock into you so deeply you see stars.

“Kuroo,” you whimper, when his forehead falls against yours as his thrusts begin to grow sloppy.

And ever a man known for his timing, it’s then that Kuroo says it, with your sweat-slicked body writhing beneath his, voices hoarse and raw, your fingers digging into his back. 

“Tetsurou,” he breathes out, chest heaving against your own.

It catches you so off guard that all you can do is stare up at him in confusion, lips parted as his eyes search yours.

“Say it,” he implores, voice nearly breaking with desperation. “Please, say it.”

Warmth unravels in your chest like a sail catching in the wind, the insistence of your rapidly beating heart rattling against your ribcage. Kuroo’s nose brushes against your cheek before his mouth ghosts over your own, the beat of silence that stretches between you a yawning precipice.

“Tetsurou,” you finally whisper, a hot, wet tear sliding down your cheek. 

The mattress groans in protest as the world beneath you shifts, Kuroo swiftly tugging you upward into his lap. His lips chase the wet trail to the edge of your jaw while your legs curl around his waist, a jolt of pleasure searing through you as his cock slips even deeper inside of you.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, wrapping one strong arm around your body while the other cradles the back of your head. And with his chest pressed to yours, you can feel it—the way his own shuddering heart responds in kind. 

“Tetsurou.”

His breathing becomes ragged as he begins to fuck you with fervor, each pounding thrust upward punctuated by the sound of you crying out his name.

“Tetsurou.”

“Tetsurou.”

“TETSUROU!”

Your vision goes white as his dexterous fingers find their way back to your throbbing clit, massaging the pulsing, aching bundle of nerves while he swallows down your unabashed, sobbing moans, uncertain if you’re still screaming his name or just making unintelligible noises at this point. A heady, dizzying wave of pleasure pulls you under just as he buries himself inside of you to the hilt, the choking squeeze of your fluttering walls milking ropes of thick, hot cum from his cock and filling you to the brim.

He holds you tight as your breathing evens out and your shuddering limbs still, softening cock nestled snugly in the heat between your thighs, cum beginning to seep out and onto the sheets below. A hand caresses the side of your neck, fingertips grazing your ear as you lift your head from where it’s buried against the crook of his shoulder to find him looking at you with so much unabashed affection, your chest aches.

And your lips have only begun to form the shape of Tetsurou’s name once more when his mouth crashes back into yours.

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

[lilac-witch]

Gossamer - Eris Vanserra x Reader

masterlist

Summary: Before his father's death, Eris had lived a false life, full of lies and deceit. But now, he had the chance to see life in its most gentle, loving form. Meaning: "a fine, filmy cobweb seen on grass or bushes or floating in the air in calm weather, especially in autumn" Word Count: 905 Warnings: None

-------------

She was beautiful, Eris thought, as he watched his wife twirl their daughter around. She had always been beautiful to him, but in the last five years they had been free of his father's wrath, she had simply glowed with life.

The High Lord of Autumn couldn't help but think back on how different their lives had been then, and how thankful he was that things had changed for the better.

---------------

"She is a white devil! Sent by Kallias to rot your mind and steal our innermost secrets!" his father bellowed, flames dancing in his eyes. "She seeks to snuff out the Autumn flames so that that wretched bastard of Night might gain more power!"

Eris saw red, and the temperature in the already sweltering room only seemed to grow.

"She is my mate! She is mine, sent by the cauldron, gifted by the mother!"

His father shook his head, disgust cloaking his features.

"No son of mine will lay with a whore of Winter. No son of mine will wed a member of another court."

Eris watched as his father turned to face the hearth, his back exposed. It would be all too easy... one perfectly placed dagger, and it could all be over. She could be his, and he could be hers. There could be peace once more.

"Get out of my sight," his father hissed.

And so Eris did what he had always done. He played the ever-loyal son. But little did the High Lord of Autumn know that when the sun set, Eris was seeking aid from their most loathed enemy.

-------------

It had taken a year, but it was finally done. Beron was dead. Eris was High Lord of Autumn.

He looked down at his father's bloody corpse. There was no feeling of remorse, no feeling of regret.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. Eris turned to face the figure. The figure that belonged to the High Lord of the Night Court. His ally.

"Go to her," Rhysand said softly, as though he was afraid that Eris may be spooked.

Eris simply nodded, sword falling from his hand as he began speed walking through the palace. At some point, he'd broken out into a run, speeding past members of his court who would no doubt have questions. But they weren't of importance right now. His only thought was you.

And there you were, in all your shimmering glory. White hair shimmered in the afternoon sun, body clad in the blue fighting leathers common to the Winter Court.

"Y/n," he breathed.

You turned to face him, blue eyes crinkling in delight before you raced towards him.

When your arms tangled with his, Eris felt nothing but love and warmth flurry down the bond. He ran his fingers through your pale strands, pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head.

"it's done. We are free."

"Are you ok?" you asked, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

Eris felt tears begin to grow in his eyes and wrapped you even tighter in his arms.

"I have never been better, my love."

---------------

Eris could in fact feel even better.

It had been 3 months since the mating ceremony where he had sworn you in as his High Lady, his mate, his wife. 3 blissful months of peace and love, more than Eris had felt in his entire lifetime. But nothing could have prepared him for the joy he'd felt in that moment.

"I'm with child," you whispered, a hand placed gently over the small bump of your belly.

Eris' mind went completely, wholly blank. The world around him stood still, and only you existed in his eyes.

"Eris?"

He blinked, letting the announcement of your pregnancy sink in. This was real. You were expecting. He was going to be a father.

"You're pregnant," he managed to choke out before the tears consumed him, sobs wracking his body.

Joy consumed him. A babe. You were carrying a babe. HIs babe.

Eris let you guide his hands to your stomach so that he might feel the little life inside you. At that moment, Eris swore he would give his life for your unborn child. Mind, body and soul, he would do whatever it took to keep his babe safe, happy and healthy.

As tears kept streaming down his face, Eris knelt before you, placing a kiss on the small bump.

"Thank you," he murmured. "Thank you for this gift."

--------------

"My love?"

Eris was brought back to the present at the sound of your voice, your blue eyes watching him with concern.

He smiled, bringing your palm to his lips.

"Nothing to fret about, darling. I was simply thinking back on how we got to this moment."

Eris watched as a soft smile fell upon your lips. You glowed with life this cool autumn morning, like one of the dew drops on a string of spider's silk.

He placed a hand on your protruding belly, content and at peace.

"He's kicking up a storm," he muttered as he felt the small movements within your womb.

"He?" you asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Well, it's only fair my love. I'm already outnumbered two to one."

Eris watched your head tilt back, a laugh escaping those sinful lips.

Yes, his life had never been better than in this moment, but Eris had no doubt that as the years passed, life would only get sweeter.

--------------

And that's post number two of the weekend! I hope you have all enjoyed Gossamer and Opalescence. They were so fun to write. A word of warning, content may be slow over the next week and a half. I have two tests and an 800-word essay due :( But as always, I will do my best to get content out, just please be patient with me:)

Just another reminder to please send through any and all requests you might have:)

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea, Right? - Part 3

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

What happened after Eris and reader were caught fooling around at the House of Wind?

Part 1 (Drabble) Part 2 Part 4

Warnings: sexual content, language, alcohol

One would have thought we were in the Winter Court, or perhaps an iced over Hel by the chill that took over the balcony.

My father’s mask of icy rage appeared less as a mask and more as a permanent fixation plastered on at the sight of Eris standing so closely to me. Uncle Rhys stared vacantly, with a slight hint of indifference masking his own face. Surely he was communicating with someone. Aunt Feyre? My father? Who knows.

It was my mother who let out a gasp, placing a hand over her chest. Her face glazed over as she spoke out to nobody in particular.

“The burning flame drives away the wild shadow.”

Whatever the hel THAT meant.

Well, whatever the hel it did mean clearly upset my mother as her eyes lined with silver, looking between Eris and I.

My father clenched his fists, beginning to launch forward in a stance promising violence against Eris.

Before I could scream at him to stop, Rhys shot out his power, instantly placating my father. Once again eliciting a gasp from my mother.

Eris stood still. A smirk plastered on his face. Whether that be his own mask or true amusement at the chaos unfolding around - I didn’t know. While my more sensible side should have taken over, heat warmed my insides at the sight of that amused gleam in his eyes, the tilted corner of his mouth. So fucking hot.

Between the chaos of Rhys trying to settle my father, my gawking at Eris in all his - well, just HIM in general - nobody noticed the palpable rage emanating from Lucien. While my mother chose my father over him, and Lucien and Vassa were living in marital bliss, the bond between mother and Luc was merely rejected and not broken. They had deemed it too much of a risk to face the effects of a broken bond and were able to become friends over the years. Clearly, Lucien was feeling whatever my mother had inadvertently cast through their barely in tact bond - as the mating instinct kicked in.

One moment, Lucien stood with a muscle ticking in his jaw, the next he’d winnowed in front of Eris in a whirl of fists, and feet, and flame.

Nobody dared intervene in the battle between a High Lord and another High Lord’s heir - a fight that certainly would have ramifications if it weren’t for the fact that the two were brothers who did care for eachother in their own messed up way.

My father stood, arms crossed, expression clouded with rage - though a slight gleam of satisfaction shone in his eyes at the sight of Eris getting his ass kicked - but mostly, it was icy rage showing there. He should be the one dueling it out with the male who triggered my mother’s upset, fucked his daughter, and that he just all around couldn’t stand anyway. If it wasn’t for Uncle Rhys ordering him otherwise, he would be joining in against Eris.

Fortunately, Eris was holding his own as he and Lucien landed blows to eachother at the same time. Eris wouldn’t have stood a chance against both my father and Lucien.

Lucien could be heard over the tangle shouting “You fucked my mate’s daughter!?”

Eris only chuckled as he continued pummeling his brother.

At that, Vassa who had stepped onto the balcony soon after Lucien had winnowed in, rolled her eyes mumbling something about needing another drink before walking over to Elain and extending an arm. Father, of course, was too busy glaring at the brawl before him - his shadows hissing with rage - to notice as the females exited the balcony together.

The two males began throwing sloppier hits, breathing heavier, flames simmering as they wore themselves down. It was Helion who finally burst onto the balcony using a powerful voice, the commanding voice of a High Lord, “Enough! Both of you!” sending a flare of power he cleaved the two apart, surrounding each with a shield that they couldn’t break out of.

Eris crossed his arms, taking a casual stance that oozed arrogance.

Lucien stood straight, eyes shooting daggers at his brother.

Helion approached me saying, “Come Y/N, you’ve seen enough of this idiocy.” and escorted me from the balcony. Leaving only my father, Rhys, Lucien, and Eris remaining. Helion turned back toward the males before stepping inside stating “the wards stay up until everyone can settle.��

I looked back to Eris with a wink. He only smirked back with feline amusement. He clearly had no regrets - and honestly, I couldn’t find it in myself to regret anything either.

Helion escorted me to one of the open bars, signaled for two shots of amber liquor. The barkeep worked remarkably quick as two glasses appeared before either of us could utter a word. Helion raised a glass to mine with a “Cheers to an evening well spent in the Night Court - never a dull affair.” I smirked before throwing the shot back.

“Thank you for separating those two.” I remarked. Helion only grinned. “Somebody had to - otherwise they would have been at it all night. Lucien eventually would have won though.” He winked. “He has my stamina.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Helion was always kind to me, with a sense of humor that aligned with my own. He made countless odious court functions far more tolerable with his wit and overall charisma. I couldn’t blame the males and females that fought tooth and nail for a night in his bed. Hell, if he didn’t feel like an honorary Uncle figure to me, I would gladly take any opportunity for a roll in the sheets with the gorgeous male.

Helion raised an eyebrow, casting his gaze behind me as Nyx quickly approached us. Most would see him as collected and unbothered, wearing the same mask as his father, but I could recognize the frantic look in his eye.

“Helion.” He greeted with a charming smile and a nod of the head. “Excuse me while I steal away my lovely cousin for a moment.”

I extended my hand toward Helion who placed a kiss to it. “Try to stay out of trouble, lady. Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”

I laughed, knowing damn well there was nothing he wouldn’t do. “Bye, Helion.”

Nyx looped his arm through mine stating, “You’ve got about two minutes before your father is in here looking for you. Dad sent me a warning that Azriel is on his way back from the balcony and he is pissed.”

“Shocking” I sighed. My heart racing just a bit though as this was absolutely NOT the conversation I wanted to have with my father right now. For fucks sake, I am an adult after all. I can sleep with whomever I want so long as there is mutual consent.

“Come on.” Nyx smirked nodding his head toward the exit, “Let’s get out of here.”

———————-

It was 30 minutes later that Nyx, myself, and Adish found ourselves at our favorite bar(that our parents didn’t frequent). Rita’s was great, truly, the owners kept up with the times, making it appealing to younger and older fae alike. However, we had no intentions of going there and risking any of the Inner Circle showing up tonight. So, our favorite hole-in-the-wall joint it was.

Nyx threw back the shot before him, the colorful lights of the bar reflecting off his raven black hair - his wings involuntarily tucking in tight as the Cinnamon Whiskey I’d ordered us hit the back of his throat.

Adish simply laughed. “One of the most powerful fae in Prythian’s history and you can’t keep a straight face with a simple shot of whiskey. Get it together, Nyxie.”

“Come on, now.” I cut in. “You’re at an unfair advantage here considering you could throw back a literal flaming shot without wincing. We can’t all be so lucky as to have fire burning within us.”

Of course Adish couldn’t help himself as a wink and Helion’s sense of humor jumped out, “I could fix that.”

I rolled my eyes “Thanks for the generous offer, Adish. But, I’ve got your Uncle to help scratch that particular itch.”

“Good gods.” Nyx muttered. “I need more alcohol.” Adish nodded in agreement. We chatted and drank for an hour before two gorgeous forest nymphs strode by looking the two males before me up and down with lust in their bright green eyes, their long legs barely covered by their mini skirts. Nyx and Adish turned to watch them, eyes trailing the females all the way to the dance floor before returning their gazes back to me.

“You two are insufferable.” I mused. “Go. Have fun.”

They thought on it for all of a second before hurrying out of their seats. “Oh, Nyx, if anyone asks, I stayed at your apartment tonight…. And all day tomorrow.”

Before Nyx could protest, I added, “Best get going before the males flirting with your nymphs take them home - and you two leave with nothing but your hands company.”

Without further hesitation, Nyx and Adish were off to the dance floor - and I was off to the Autumn Court.

—————-

Winnowing in to the Autumn Court’s keep - I removed the hood from my cloak, discreetly revealing my face to the guard of a rear entrance into the residential quarters. The guard opened the door with a grunt allowing me to stride through the quiet corridors toward Eris’ chamber.

I didn’t bother knocking on his door - there was no way he had time to make it back here and find himself evening companionship in such a short period of time. Even if he did, I’m sure we could all have a good time.

The smell of crackling fire and roasting chestnuts greeted me granting a minor relief as the scent was fresh. Well, he made it back alive then - at least there’s that. Not that I was actually concerned for his safety. I knew he’d make it back just fine and preferably with all of my favorite parts in tact.

I sauntered to a drawer where my favorite lace underthings were stored. Nothing quite suited the mood I was in tonight - so I decided against anything in the drawer and summoned my shadows.

Was this what my shadows were intended to be used for? Absolutely not - but they had no objections when it came to Eris. They were rather fond of him - much to my chagrin. Stripping out of my clothes, my shadows whispered over my naked form, trailing over to cover just the places I willed them. A shadow barely covering my full breasts, darkened but with just a tempting hint of transparency, allowing the outline of my nipples to show through.

One shadow thinly settled over my waist, while its tendrils drifted downward to my thighs, circling around them tightly as garters would. My most bold shadow covered the front of my pussy, leaving an opening right over its already dripping center, and coming back together at my ass, a shadowy imitation of a crotchless thong.

This was my - well, their - best work yet. I heard Eris stepping out of the tub in his bathing chamber as I spread myself on his bed - his own personal feast to devour.

Heat pooled in my core like burning flames as my pulse thrummed with anticipation.

“Well” his low voice growled, stepping into the room, “my little minx came out to play.”

Eris tsk’ed, strutting to the edge of the bed with confident ease. He looked like a damned deity with only a towel slung low around his waist, his abdominal muscles trailing into an enticing “v” that narrowed down into his towel teasingly close to exactly what I wanted to see, to lick, to taste to my heart’s content. My mouth watered at the sight of him.

Not letting him catch a glimpse of how badly I needed him I cooed, “Aww, Eris, did you miss me?”

Without replying, he grabbed my ankles yanking me to the edge of the bed, a squeal escaping my lips that I wasn’t particularly proud of.

“You left me in quite the compromising position back there, little one.”

I wrapped my legs around his torso, tugging him closer to the edge of the bed - leaving just enough of a gap between the apex of my thighs and his body that he could see my exposed sex. “It seemed to me that you were more than capable of handling yourself, High Lord.”

“Fuck,” he growled, as he leaned down, wrapping his muscled arms around me and hauling me up against him in one fell swoop. Chills spread through me as his teeth tugged at my earlobe. His voice turning dangerously low, “Do they know where you are tonight?”

“Is this what you want right now, Eris? To talk about my family?” He turned, making long strides toward the nearest wall, effectively pinning me in place. One hand raised to wrap around my neck, constricting only on the sides - slowing the circulation beneath just enough to lighten my head in the most pleasurable of ways.

“What I want, is a direct answer Y/N.” Squeezing his fingers just a bit tighter for emphasis. “Do they know where you are?”

“They think I’m staying at Nyx’s place tonight.”

Eris smirked, smugly replying, “Good. I’d hate for your father to burst in here while you’re screaming ‘Daddy.’”

I couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped my lips at the threat in his words. He was NOT going to go easy on me tonight.

Good.

Releasing the grip on my neck, Eris reached between us, loosening the towel around his waist and letting gravity do the rest. Looking down, my mouth watered at the sight of his very evident arousal.

The look in his eyes turned predatory as my shadows gently vibrated in anticipation of what was to come.

“Sweet girl, I love when you take control, but tonight - you are mine to fuck however I please.”

A desperate, pleading little moan fell from my lips at the danger in his tone.

Eris raised an eyebrow in response, “Eager to be disciplined, little one?”

I locked my eyes with his, my bottom lip pulled between my teeth to the point of pain as I nodded.

A chuckle bordering villainous escaped him - “Words, darling. Use your words.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well. Let’s begin.”

—————————

Eris (earlier that night)

The balcony had emptied out save for Eris, Rhysand, and Azriel. The latter shaking with violent rage.

Eris could remember years ago when Azriel had given him a small taste of the power he could exude should he be provoked. Looking at the rage on his face now, he knew that the anger Azriel felt then was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. Eris almost felt guilty - almost.

Fortunately, should the Shadowsinger pounce, Eris could hold his own given the power bestowed upon him when taking the Autumn Court’s throne.

It was likely Rhyand’s earlier command and the fact that Eris was now a High Lord himself that kept the Shadowsinger from attacking.

Keeping his arrogant facade in place, Eris cleared his throat. “Call off your dog, Rhysand. Let’s talk this out High Lord to High Lord.”

Azriel’s cold voice cut in before his High Lord could respond - “You’ll be praying for a dog to rip you apart by the time I’m through with you.”

Rhysand held up a hand. “Enough Azriel, you can take your wrath out on Eris at a later time.” Amusement shown in the Night Court High Lord’s eyes. “I, for one, would like to hear what Eris has to say about this particular situation.”

Eris looked to Azriel and back to Rhysand, “I would like to speak to you in private.”

The ground shook with the flare of Azriel’s rage from the implied exclusion but Rhysand considered the request. Shrugging off the spymaster’s look that all but screamed don’t you fucking dare - he motioned toward the entryway. “Come then, let’s speak in my office.”

Rhysand escorted Eris to an office space within the House of Wind, tucked at the end of a quiet corridor, far from the earshot of any attendees. A flicker of motion in a dark corner not lit by firelight caught his attention. “I’ve known you for centuries now Rhysand, you think I don’t see the shadow listening to us in the corner?”

The High Lord dramatically rested a hand over his heart in mock offense. “What is it with all of this ‘Rhysand’ business? You wound me, Eris.”

Eris smirked with amusement. “If you see me as a friend worthy of speaking on such a casual basis - you will dismiss the shadow.”

Clearly communicating with the Shadowsinger, Rhysand’s expression glazed over for a moment and the shadow exited the room. Rhys then threw up wards around the space.

“Now, what is so pressing that my Spymaster couldn’t be involved in this conversation?”

“Despite the fact that I am fucking his daughter and would prefer to keep the details of the arrangement between her and I?”

A wave of darkness rolled off the High Lord at the crude mention of his niece. “Careful, Eris.”

A lazy grin crossed the Autumn Court High Lord’s face. “Care to make a bargain?”

Twenty minutes and a bargain tattoo later, Eris and Rhys exited the study together.

“Remember,” Eris said. “NOBODY finds out the details of our discussion. If the Shadowsinger or his daughter are made aware, I have every right to retaliate accordingly.”

Rhys simply picked at an invisible speck of dust on his tailored jacket, a casual irreverence masking his features. “Good luck, Eris. You’re going to need it.”

———————————————————-

Stay tuned for Part 4!

A/n: I know you all have patiently waited for this and I want to thank you for your patience! January was an insane month (in good ways!) and it caused a delay for me. I hope you all like enjoy this new part. I will be adding at least one more part to the series.

Tags: @b0xerdancer

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith stares.

Constantly.

He always has. Even at the Garrison, Lance can remember him just staring. Endlessly. Like he was looking right through you, or like he was staring straight into your soul. Sometimes both at once. He’d never spoken one word to Lance before they went to space, but Lance remembers that stare with complete clarity. (Probably because he was on the other end of it more than he’s willing to admit, with all his attempts to get Keith’s attention.)

The staring doesn’t stop when they get to space. It doesn’t stop when they accept their roles as teammates, when Keith finally starts participating in their (totally justified!) rivalry, when they begrudgingly decide that maybe they can peel back on the arguing, a little. When they realise how well they work together. When they start working together on purpose, and some of those stares come with a small smile, a quirk of the lips, really, that brightens indigo eyes and shows the tiniest peek of crooked incisors. (When tragedy strikes, and the stare is blank. After tragedy, when the stare only gets blanker, and they don’t talk about what happens next but when Lance comes into his room after days of no response, sits with him quietly, brushes the tangles out of his hair and reminds him there are still reasons for him to get up. When they really become a team, just the two of them, red and black and the leader and his right hand.)

When the stares only gets softer and softer, and when Lance is the subject of them more and more frequently.

“What?” Lance snaps one day, frustrated and embarrassed and tired of being the only one that Keith looks at so closely. “What are you even looking at? You’re always staring at me, man, like you’re trying to fuckin’ read my soul, or something. It’s weird.”

Lance feels bad as soon as he says it. It’s defensive and mean and he tenses, preparing for Keith’s upcoming scowl, the argument.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead Keith smiles. Not one of his quick ones, a barely-there quirk of the lips, but a real grin, wide enough to make his eyes squint and face brighten. The fondness bleeds from him; Lance couldn’t miss it if he was the densest person alive.

Slowly, like he’s given Lance time to back away, he reaches foreword and tucks Lance’s hair behind his ears, even though it’s too short for that and doesn’t do anything, even though it’s clearly all about the gesture, an excuse to touch Lance gently.

Lance’s breath stutters on his inhale. Keith doesn’t pull away, resting his hand on the side of Lance’s cheek, not quite cupping it but not quite not cupping it, either.

“God, I’m so lucky,” Keith murmurs, almost too quiet for Lance to hear. (But no. Not impossible. Keith could’ve said it at one decibel and Lance would have strained himself to injury trying to hear it.)

“What?” Lance asks hoarsely, well aware his face is flaming.

Keith only smiles wider. “How could I not stare at you?” he asks, like Lance isn’t losing his whole mind.

Lance clears his throat. Then again, and again. And a fourth and fifth time for good measure because what the fuck.

“Keith, what — what’s going on —”

“I am so lucky,” Keith repeats, firmer this time. He has the same stupid look on his face, like he cannot help but he besotted with Lance, somehow. He opens his mouth again and Lance knows that if he has to hear whatever mushy thing Keith has cooked up then he is going to melt into a puddle of flaming goo. Lance shoots out and slaps his hand over Keith’s mouth.

“Stop speaking,” he orders, face flaming. “Explain what the hell has gotten into you.”

“Those are opposite instructions,” Keith says, muffled, because he is a jerk. His eyes are sparkling in amusement.

“I am going to whoop your ass, Kogane.”

“Fine, fine.” He pulls Lance’s hand off his face and then links it in his, holding them in his lap. He rubs his thumb over Lance’s knuckles as he speaks. “You remember the mall food court? Two days ago?”

Lance tilts his head. “Yeah?” He doesn’t know what the hell that has to do with anything. They had a supply run a couple days ago, loading up on cleaning mods and food supplies and million other things, and he and Keith had stopped for lunch at the food court slash restaurant.

“You, uh, you remember that waiter?”

Lance frowns, trying to picture a waiter. All he can really remember is how Keith had laughed so hard at one of his jokes that soda had spewed out of his nose. He feels bad, but he can’t picture their waiter at all.

“No?”

Keith scowls. It’s such a stark difference from his sappy look before that it’s startling. “That weirdo, stuck up shithead who wouldn’t leave you alone. He called you pretty boy three separate times.”

Vaguely, Lance remembers some light flirting as the waiter set down the cheque. He can’t even picture the guy’s face.

“I mean, not really. I get called pretty boy a lot.”

He hadn’t meant it as a joke, but it makes Keith laugh. He looks relieved, like he’s been worrying about Lance and the waiter.

Like he’d been jealous.

The sappy look is back on his face. “Just made me think, is all.”

Lance’s throat is dry again. The air is charged, and Keith is staring again, eyes tracing every inch of Lance’s face.

Something is going to change tonight. He can feel it.

“Think about what?”

He’s leaned closer without realising. Keith smiles, noticing, and his hand comes back up to Lance’s cheek. This time he cups it blatantly, running the edge of a calloused thumb over Lance’s cheekbones.

“How lucky I am,” he murmurs, repeating his sentiment from earlier, “that we’ve got such a pretty boy on our team. On my team.”

Lance face flames. His first instinct is to deny it, vehemently, to ask Keith what the hell his deal is. Something ugly rears in his head, something hurt — how dare Keith make fun of him like that. How dare he mess with Lance about something he’s sensitive about.

But there’s not an ounce of meanness on Keith’s face. He’s looking at Lance in a way that can only be reverent, like Lance is the only person on the castle, the only person ever.

He remembers all of a sudden that Keith is the most honest person he knows. Keith, who can’t lie if he tries, who’s emotions are written all over his face all the time, who’s easy to rile up because he wears his heart on his sleeve, who puts every ounce of effort he has into everything he does. Who fights this war even though it’s hard for him because he loves everyone so much.

Lance blinks, and is more surprised than he should be to find his face wet. Keith’s face creases a little in concern, and he gently wipes the tears from Lance’s cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

Lance laughs wetly, more incredulous than anything.

“Mullet, if you don’t kiss me right this fucking second —”

Keith laughs. He doesn’t hesitate a second more, leaning in and pressing his lips to Lance’s, gently at first, then like he can’t get enough.

His eyes are closed, as he kisses.

Lance almost misses the staring.

[writingsbychlo]

UNDER THE MISTLETOE (day five)

summary; after getting caught up in a certain tradition, you and az face the outcome on the other side.

word count; 11,036

notes; kick your feet and giggle fluff. you've been warned.

You watched carefully as the wax before you melted, hands joined and propped under your chin, watching as glittery black beads slowly began to pale, swirls of silver sparkling throughout like the night sky. Sitting beside you, signing addresses onto all of the cards you’d spent the morning writing together. 

The candle flickered, casting shadows across the room as the wax continued to soften, and Azriel pushed the final folded letter towards the pile you’d created. 

“Staring at that wax awful hard, you got a lot on your mind?” You could only hum, turning to face him and watching the sparkle in his eyes as the flame flickered behind you. The truth was quite the opposite. There was nothing on your mind. 

For what felt like the first time in a very, very long time, you were entirely at peace. No unmitigated anxieties or lingering problems, no stressful scenarios or job lists to be ticked off the following day. This morning, when you woke up once again tangled in Azriel’s arms, his face almost tucked into your neck, you were happy.

There had been a crumple from his pillow along his cheek that had lasted the entirety of your shared breakfast, his hair still messy even now, as a second hour passed and the unmade bedsheets had grown cold. You’d been waiting for an update on the storm situation, after dragging open the curtains only to find the glass entirely frosted over, stacked over halfway up with snow. 

The fire had been burning steadily since, the logs crackling as the room was flooded with warmth. 

“Wanna’ talk about it?” He raised a hand, brushing one knuckle over the back of your cheek, his brows dipping in confusion. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Az. I’m just happy.” A smile tugged at the edges of Azriel’s lips even if his brows dipped further. “I slept so well. I woke up, with no stress, no worries, just happy.”

“Shadowsinger, spymaster, dreamcatcher. It has quite a ring to it.” He murmured, your scoff breaking the quiet between you both, and it quickly descended into giggles. 

“I was thinking it was more this vacation, thank you very much.” Turning back to inspect the wax, it was just short of two hot, your lips pursing to blow out a thin stream of air to extinguish the candle, as he let out a pained moan, clutching his heart. 

“You mean it’s not my fantastic cuddling? I’m so offended.” Your eyes rolled, laying out a series of letters before yourself and scooping up the bowl, a small serving of molten wax dripping onto the paper before yourself. “Fine, since my services aren’t needed, I’ll sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“You do that. You snore anyway.” You passed the latter across to him, watching as he tugged free the ring from his thumb, a signet ring with his initial sitting firmly in the centre alongside the Night Court crest, a gift from Rhysand, so long ago. “Maybe now I’ll actually get some sleep.”

Stamping shut the first letter, he gasped, smothering his chuckle and accepting the second latter you sent his way, peeling the ring away carefully only to mark the next, a system forming between you both. “Oh, that’s how you want to play it?”

“I’m merely stating facts.” You both knew it was a lie, Azriel was as stealthy in his sleep as he was awake, snoozing so quietly beside you that you’d miss him in the dark, shrouded by his shadows for protection, if he wasn’t wrapped around you. He may be silent in his sleep, but he wasn’t still.

When he slept, you’d found Azriel would still hold you tight. If you moved, he moved, his body followed your own, seeking you out even subconsciously, keeping as much of you pressed to him as possible. Wandering hands, clinging touches, needy caresses. 

Azriel, the feared shadowsinger, was a sleep cuddler.

“Alright. Well, maybe I’ll actually get some sleep, without all your twitching. Did you know you move around when you sleep, you’re a vivid dreamer.” He shot back, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. 

“I know, I can’t help it, I have some pretty thrilling dreams about Cassian.” His jaw dropped, and you could see it out of the corner of your eye as you dripped wax onto the final letter, swirling it around into a perfect circle for him to stamp. As he took the letter, he snatched it with a huff, your victory only sitting stronger over him.

“Wait ‘til I tell Nesta.” His final comment was an unofficial surrender to the battle of wit, and he scowled at you as you glanced up, turning to face him in your chair. 

“Who says Nesta’s not in those dreams too? Maybe I need two, I’m a lot to handle.”

“Don’t I know it.” His voice was low, so low you almost missed it, innuendo laced through his words that you didn't quite understand, but you weren’t given much time to contemplate it. A knock at the door broke you from your thoughts, the sound bouncing around the inside of the room, and excitement spiked within your chest. 

The last knock had been merely to collect your breakfast dishes, a promise soon of an update on the weather conditions and your plans for the day, your feet flying cross the floor to receive it as Azriel followed closely behind. He all but crashed into your back as you paused at the door, swinging it open, to reveal Viv standing on the other side.

Pressing up behind you, Azriel’s heat flooded across your back, wings wrapping around you a little, and the woman glanced between you both, the smile on her lips only growing as she took you in. You felt underdressed somehow, even though she was in pyjamas just the same as your own, hair braided neatly over one shoulder, she still somehow managed to look regal, even in sweatpants. 

“We’re snowed in.” 

It was the exact news you’d been expecting, and yet as she truly confirmed it, your heart sank a little. The weather was always going to be unpredictable, at this time of year, in this Court especially, and yet with so little time here, you didn’t want to miss a single day. As if sensing your disappointment, Azriel ran his hand comfortingly down your spine, before settling it on your hip with a squeeze. 

Vivianne wrung her hands together, but never dropped her smile, only letting it become more conspiratorial. “Kal and I were thinking it would be fun to have a game day. Very informal, we can stay in our pyjamas and make snacks. Most of the staff will be out of the palace helping to clear the roads and pathways to the town, the palace is quite low on the priority list for that. Are you feeling up to it?”

“Can we make hot chocolate?” Azriel’s deep voice echoed from above you, a chuckle spilling from Vivianne’s lips, and you turned to look at him, brows raising, and he only shrugged as he looked down at you. “Don’t act like you didn’t know I have a sweet tooth, sugar.”

A blush flared over your cheeks at the nickname, and you rolled your eyes to cover its effect, turning back to your friend instead. “You had me at snacks, and apparently, had Azriel at hot chocolate. We’re in.”

“Fantastic.” Her hands clapped together, excitement clear as day. “Shall we meet at the base of the stairs in a couple of minutes, then?”

You agreed, the door closing a second later, and as you backed away from it, your body pressed into Azriel’s, forcing him to back up with you. As your body came up to his own, the hand on your hip slipped all the way around your waist, tugging you in a spin as he turned towards the bed, your feet leaving the floor, and a giggle leaving your lips. 

“Azriel! Put me down!”

Your toes nudged at the floor, scraping as you kicked, but he wasn’t letting go until he was throwing you down onto the bed, your body bouncing as he passed you by. You rolled across the still unmade sheets, scrabbling to get back at him, and he only grinned wickedly as he closed the door connecting your rooms in your face, holding the handle firmly against you on the other side. 

“Hey! You brute!”

“That was for teasing me before Vivianne came to the door. You wanna’ talk about Cass, I’ll treat you like Cass would.” Your cheeks flushed with heat, palm slapping against the door, but there was no stopping the laughter that spilled from your lips. Cassian had never been shy about his manhandling, whether it be throwing you and Nesta around in training, lifting you out of his way in the Townhouse’s narrow corridors, or simply throwing you over his shoulder when you were too drunk to stumble home from Rita’s. 

Backing away from the door and mumbling under your breath, his own muted laughter on the other side of the door faded away as you both prepared for the day. You straightened out your bedsheets from their crumpled positions, a hand smoothing across your oversized t-shirt on your way to the bathroom. 

By the time you’d finished washing your face and combing your hair, you found Azriel lounging on your bed, lay across it on his stomach, tapping his fingers in boredom as he waited. He’d changed his pyjamas, a new pair of black sweatpants and a matching black t-shirt, which hugged his shoulders unfairly tightly and was almost strained around the thick biceps on display.

“I just made that bed.”

“Oh, because beds can never be remade. How much money you must be wasting buying new sheets every single day.” He mumbled, sliding down to the floor and tugging pathetically on one corner to smooth out the wrinkles, and you scoffed through a laugh as you made your way over to get a pair of fluffy socks from the drawer. You’d only brought a few pairs, not expecting to ever actually wear them outside of the bedroom, and you dug around for the best pair as Azriel shuffled over to join you. “Can I borrow a pair of those?”

You glanced down at his feet, noting the grey socks he already wore. “You’ve got socks on.”

“Yeah, but these look cosier.” He snatched out a pair of pale blue ones, with sparkly thread throughout, and you snatched them right back before he could get too attached. “Hey! Sharing is caring.”

“You’ll stretch them out with your big fuckin’ feet! You’re already ruining a perfectly good t-shirt with your shoulders.” He dropped a look down at himself, flexing his chest and arms unnecessarily. 

“Thanks for noticing.”

“I was insulting you.” You spat back, tongue sticking out, and he only hummed.

“You have to be looking to have noticed anything to insult.” He tapped on the tip of your nose, and you turned away from him, hopping a little as you tugged each sock onto your feet, wiggling your toes and letting him balance you with a hand on each shoulder. When your feet were taken care of, you only had your arms to take care of now, not being gifted with the same resistance to the cold that Azriel was, and you swiped up a hoodie that was lying over the back of the couch. 

It was in your hands for barely two full seconds, before he was pulling it away. 

“That’s mine.”

“Wha- give it back! I’m cold.” He only shrugged, hanging it over his arm, and his eyes twinkled with unknown mischief as you spluttered. “You’re not even using it!”

“So? You’re not using the fluffy blue socks, and yet you won’t let me have those. If I must get frostbite, you get hypothermia.”

Your arms crossed over your chest, unwanting to give in, but you were stubborn. You’d set your heart on that jumper now, and when his cheeky smile grew, you were willing to give in just to stop it getting any wider. “Fine! You can wear the blue socks. I guess I’ll use them as a sleeping bag on my next mission away, when you’ve ruined them!”

He handed over the jumper with a beam, lifting it to your head and hanging it around your neck, before leaving you to do the arms as he retrieved the socks. After successfully shoving his feet into them and tucking them under the cuffs of his pants, he offered you his hand, wiggling his fingers at you and taking your palm. 

Tugging you along and out of the room, Vivianne and Kallias were already gathered at the bottom of the steps when you reached them. Viv was chatting excitedly, while Kal simply watched his wife, tucking a stray strand of white hair behind her ear before cutting her rambling off with a sweet kiss. 

Your heart clenched, and Azriel’s hand squeezed your own. Perhaps he felt the same way, the same happiness but sadness, the balance of adoration for your friends at finding one another, but longing for yourself. It would be nice to not feel so alone in those emotions.

Azriel rustled his wings, a subtle sound but loud enough to gain their attention, both of them pulling apart just to look up, smiling widely as they saw you. “Sorry, we got caught. Had to kiss, I’m afraid.”

Viv shrugged, and Kallias only chuckled, even as his pale cheeks grew pink, and you came to a stop before them, brows raising. “You got caught?”

“Under the mistletoe.” She said, like that cleared anything up, and she pointed over your heads, to the sparkly sprig of greenery hanging from the high archway. 

“I hate to break it to you, but you have weeds growing in your house.” Azriel supplied, and you waved a hand idly in the direction of his body, a soft ‘oof’ leaving him as you smacked his solid stomach, and he nudged you with your linked arms in return. “That wasn’t there last night.”

“It’s magic mistletoe,” Kallias added, the confusion only growing more, and you gasped as you watched it disappear from over your heads, fading away in a puff of glittering white. “It moved around all over the palace, we have several set up. I’m surprised you haven’t seen any yet.”

“I warded their rooms,” Vivianne explained, taking her husband’s hand much the same way Azriel held your own, guiding you along halls you had yet to venture down, leaving you and your companion to follow after her in confusion. 

“It's a tradition here in Winter.” Kal glanced over his shoulder, shrugging a little. “You hang mistletoe at Christmas, and if you get caught under it with someone, you have to kiss them.”

“But it’s just a poisonous plant?” Azriel spoke, and wanted to roll your eyes, swearing he wasn’t cut out for a life as a courtier, if it wasn’t for the pale-haired man’s laugh at his bluntness. Somehow, Azriel seemed to have won Kallias over, the two making for fast friends. 

“I know.”

“So, why? What's the story there?” You pressed a little more, curiosity biting in deep, and as Vivianne threw open a set of double doors to an impressive, empty kitchen, she spun to you with a smile. 

“How about I tell you all about it while we bake?”

She gathered pots and pans, various ingredients were produced which Kallias was quick to take from her hands, measuring the quantities himself and beginning to divide them up, as you gathered around the central island ready to hear the story. 

“It all started with the goddess of love, and her favourite child. He was the god of light.”

“Doesn’t it always start with a god, or love, or both?” Azriel mused, brushing his lips over your hairline to hide his amusement, your cheeks flushing as Viv only watched him, a gentler smile pulling on her features as he left a kiss on your hair. 

“She loved her son so much that she wanted to protect him against everything, so that he could never be harmed.” As Kallias handed her a bowl, and passed one to Azriel too, she began to tell you of the goddess, of the God of Sunlight’s adventures, his highs and lows that led him to need such protection. 

She spun a fascinating tale, you were so caught up in it that you could barely stir your own mixture, tipping the chocolate chips into the batter when it was ready without ever taking your eyes from her. 

“So, she spoke to every animal, and person, and plant. She made everything pledge to never harm him, to protect him at all costs, but she forgot pretty little mistletoe.” She tutted, your heart beating and hand stilling in the bowl as the true excitement of her folklore tale began. Azriel took the bowl, from you, pulling it closer to himself to keep the work going, and you only leaned closer to his side in silent thanks as you continued to listen. 

“So mistletoe killed him because it was forgotten?”

“A trickster killed him.” She corrected, wagging a finger at you for your impatience. “One of the tricksters realised her mistake, and fashioned an arrow out of mistletoe. That arrow was shot straight into his heart, and he died.”

“But why did the trickster do it?”

“Why do tricksters do anything?” To cause chaos. The Night Court had much mythology of its own, regarding tricksters and demons and things that go ‘bump’ in the night, all revolving around making sure children behaved. 

This story was shaping up to have a far more romantic notion. 

She took a break there, leaving you to hang in suspense as the four of you worked to divide gather and shape up cookies, fling tray after tray in the oven until you had more snacks than you’d possibly be able to eat. She was loading pots into the sink for later, Kallias setting a timer on the ovens, and Azriel was leaning back against the counter. 

Tugging you closer to him, his arms banded around your body as your back met his chest, his chin propping on the top of your head as he spoke; “So, how does any of that make a tradition about kissing?”

You let out a steady breath at his question, the cliffhanger you’d been left on finally coming to an end, and you settled your arms atop his as you leaned back into him, both eager to hear the rest of the story. 

“The goddess was distraught, her favourite child had died. But she was a goddess of love, she did not seek revenge. Instead, she cried to the mistletoe, and her tears made white berries grow. When her son died, he took the sunlight with him, and so came the long days of Winter. He died at what you call Winter solstice, and what we call Christmas.”

Kallias joined the pair of you, slinging an arm around her waist. You felt like a child as she spoke of all the changes, of the way mistletoe began to grow, of the goddess seeking out every last shoot of it.

“She enchanted that too, to be the strongest love of all, that anybody caught underneath it should embrace one another in love, not anger or pain. Even enemies on the battlefield would put down their weapons and embrace, and call a truce for that day.”

“Cassian will be thrilled, we’ll buy him enough for a farm, and he can kiss all of our foes into submission.” Your joke brought laughter from them all, but the deep laughter by your ear was the one that left you breathless, a warm puff of air over your cheek. It terrified you, feeling so comfortable in his embrace, it made you want to run, and yet, it also made you want to stay. Hearing a tale of love, wrapped in his arms, leaving you breathless and your heart racing.

“After that, it became a symbol of love. New relationships would share their first kiss underneath it, for good luck. Married couples,” She gave a glance at her husband, who only placed his lips on her forehead in response, “kiss under it to maintain a happy marriage. Parents kiss their newborns to show them their love. It is tradition. You can never be angry under the mistletoe, and you must always show your love.”

“Perhaps we should take some home with us, let Elain grow it. It would make such a lovely addition to Solstice.” 

Azriel only hummed in agreement, clearly contemplating it, and your reverie was broken by the first of the timers going off. The smell of sugar and baked goods filled the air as soon as the door was open, steam pouring out as Kallias’ gloved hand retrieved the first tray, perfectly baked cookies steaming on the metal sheet. 

Together, the four of you worked, scooping up treats from trays to plates, icing and decorating as they cooled, hot chocolate being made, dishes washed, and the kitchen cleaned, until you were all ready to go for your game day.

You gathered the last of the gingerbread cookies, piling them up onto a plate with your poorly decorated chocolate chip cookies and some pastries, Kallias took the large platter from your hands. As you stared at it, it became more and more obvious why none of your career paths had veered towards baking. It was a sad attempt, but it was fun nonetheless, and as long as they were edible, you’d have fun.

Kallias led the way with the food, Viv following quickly after him as she attempted to snatch a cookie from the tray as he swept it out of her reach, the two bickering as they walked. Turning to your best friend, a laugh bubbled up in your throat when your gaze landed on him. 

“What?”

“You’ve got icing on your face.” 

He dipped his head, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder, utterly failing to get the smudge of blue icing from his skin. He rubbed again upon seeing your lips pinch to hide a smile, failing again, and your eyes rolled fondly. 

Reaching up to him, your hand sat on his jaw, one thumb swiping over his skin to clear it away, the back of your pointer catching any last smears, and he smiled softly, letting you work. When you pulled your hand away, he had a tissue ready, wiping your finger clean and tossing the ball into the trash. 

“Ready to kick some ass at board games?”

“Az, I was born for this.” Your serious look made him laugh, head tipping back, hand settling comfortably on your lower back as he began to guide you through the halls. The palace was huge, far too big for you to properly learn your way around after only five days, but this route was one you were beginning to know well. Following the joyous chatter of Kallias and Vivianne until the light of the sitting area was spilling out, you let their voices guide you, Azriel’s hand never leaving your back. 

As you rounded the doorway, Vivianne held up her hands, eyes wide and arms extended, a yell on her lips that brought you crashing to a half, Azriel slamming into your back and both of you almost tumbling over. 

“What?” You burst, eyes scanning the immediate area for danger, guard flying back up from where you’d let it slip over the last few days. When you found nothing, you looked back to her, but instead of finding fear, you saw the excitement on her face.

“Look up!” She beamed, your heart thudding nervously in your chest and your eyes slowly travelling up, head tipping back to examine the doorframe above you. Hanging there above your heads was a green sprig of mistletoe, one you know wasn’t there before, and both Kallias and Viv stared innocently with smiles on their faces. Viv’s was wider, Kallias’ was merely indulging, adoring of his wife, and you knew she was behind this. 

Your heart gave another hard thud as you watched Azriel observe it from the corner of your eye. A soft laugh spilt from your lips as you turned to face him fully, his sweet smile setting a wave of reassurance spreading through your chest, and his brows raised a little. His shadows were beginning to swirl up a little higher, over his shoulders and around his head, a tell that he was nervous, and he gave a small shrug. 

“S’okay. It’s just a tradition, right?” Your heart ached a little in your chest at the tone of his voice, something self-loathing and worried in there, just loud enough for you to make out, private from your audience. You refused to believe that after these nights of cuddling, these near-miss moments and the feeling of waking up in his arms, that Azriel didn’t know how you felt. The inkling of doubt in your chest was quickly quashed when you made your decision.

Stepping closer, close enough to throw your arms around his neck and pull yourself up to a more even height, Azriel’s hands steadied you at your waist as his eyes widened a fraction, lips parting in shock. 

“It’s not just for the tradition, Az.” You whispered, before pressing your lips against his own, anxiety thrumming through your body like electric currents, fear taking over every nerve. His hands on your hips tightened, frozen still for just a second, before he was melting against you. Tugging you closer, his hands smoothed around to your lower back instead, a low sound leaving him, muffled between your mouths as he returned your fragile kiss. 

His lips were soft, so much softer than you’d expected, giving and taking as his nose bumped clumsily against your own, learning something entirely new between yourselves. He caught on quickly, though, pulling back barely an inch to take a breath, before twisting his head to the side, and letting his lips find your own once again. Rocking you back to lean over you, your feet sunk to the floor comfortably. 

As the nervousness died away, a smile formed on your lips, despite their current occupation with his own. Filled with burning love and utter devotion, your heart gave one final, steady beat, before something jolted, snapping like an anchor to the ocean floor or a rock through ice, grounding you to the moment with such force that you pulled back with a gasp. 

Emotions that weren’t your own came flooding in, a mirror image of something else, and when your gaze fluttered up to Azriel’s, he only smiled, brushing his thumb over your face, and staring at you like you’d hung the very moon in the sky. 

You knew what that feeling was, you’d waited all your life for it, and apparently, it was no shock to Azriel as he pushed another wave of affection down it towards you. Flicking a glance over to Viv and Kal, Azriel seemed to take the hint, the smile never leaving his face as he let you go. To be discussed later, when you were alone. This was not a moment for anyone else. 

With a final kiss left on your cheek, he stepped back, your cheeks burned hot, shock and surprise now all you could feel, and everything else felt numb. Everything except for where Azriel laced his fingers with your own, much more competent and stable as he tugged you along and into the living room, to the set up of board games and snacks. 

Sinking down onto the floor on one side of the large coffee table, cushions had been laid out, and Azriel took a seta net to you, wings comfortably spreading out across the floor behind him as Vivianne and Kal sat down opposite you. Pulling out the first board game, your hostess jumped into an explanation of it, but your mind was still spinning, utterly disconnected from the moment and in shock as you tried to put it aside. 

Mate.

It was like the word was bouncing around the inside of your skull, every heartbeat sending another echo of it to follow. A bloom of amusement inside your chest, a follow emotion that felt like smoke you could wave your hand through, not tangible like your own, and you’d have to get used to the feeling of… him.

His hand reached out, settling over your thigh and squeezing in gentle comfort, never taking his eyes off of Vivianne as she laid out all the pieces and explained the rules. Staring down at the large, scarred limb sitting so comfortably on your leg, nothing about it felt wrong. Azriel had always been affectionate with you, but openly showing a new level of intimacy, you’d have expected at least some level of weirdness, a period of adjustment. 

But nothing.

Reaching out carefully, you traced a finger over the back of his knuckles, before slipping the hand down and underneath his own, his fingers widening to link with yours. When your hands were laced together fully, he did turn to look at you, raising your hand to his face and pressing a kiss to the back of it, another one to your temple, before turning his attention back to the game. 

It was so simple, so settled, so right. 

Your mind, at last, went silent, because it was like the final puzzle piece had fallen into place, and at last, you could see the whole picture.

Azriel had opted to take a shower as you’d come back to the room, leaving you alone to your thoughts for the first time since your kiss, and they were drowning you. If you paced anymore, you were sure you were going to burn a hole right through the floor and fall throughout the palace.

There was obviously a conversation to be had, there was a bond sitting between your chests, one you were trying very hard not to let be tainted with your anxieties, and yet Azriel’s side was suspiciously quiet. You’d expected more from him, if he truly did already know about the bond between you both, and he was as happy as you believed him to be based on his actions, then why was it so silent?

Finally coming to a stop in front of the fireplace, you stared into the flames, listening to the logs crackle and pop as they burned, trying not to let your worries and insecurities build up once again. Time slipped away from you, the room around you melted into nothing, everything becoming a blur as you got lost in your head, only snapping back into focus at the soft clearing of a throat behind you for attention. 

Leaning on the doorway connecting your two rooms was Azriel - your mate, it seemed - his arms crossed over his chest and eyes raised. His hair was still damp, curling a little at the tips that needed trimming, his shadows swirling despite his calm demeanour, mirroring the worry you felt inside visibly. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded far too quickly, a high-pitched hum leaving you, and instead of pacing, your hands now began to fidget in front of your body. He fixed you with a look, one that suggested he didn’t believe you even slightly, and he’d have been able to tell that even without the bond connecting you both. Holding out his hands at hip height and waving his fingers, he silently beckoned you forwards, as if to prompt you. ‘Come here and prove it’, the action said.

Like a magnet, you were drawn towards him, stumbling across the room until his hands were on you once again, a sigh slipping from your lips as he tugged you into his body. The shadows over his head began to clear, until only a couple remained, hanging in thin air near the doorframe in the shape of mistletoe branches and leaves, and despite all your raging emotions, a smile was pulled from you at the notion. 

You were blasting all kinds of nerves, the bond between your bodies all but vibrating as you looked back to him, pink cheeks and a sweet smile, waiting for your response. A wave of comfort came to you, enveloping all that sickening fear and replacing it with adoring warmth, only confirming that he did know it was there, connecting both of your hearts. 

A small, breathless laugh left you at the feeling. You’d have to get used to that. With the sound, he sent another pulse of love, one so deep and unending your knees almost went weak, almost letting you tumble to the ground. Perhaps this was why you’d felt nothing from him, why nothing felt any different. 

This wasn’t new, you’d always felt a connection to Azriel that you couldn't explain, but never in your wildest dreams would you have thought you’d be lucky enough to be his mate. Instead of a sudden snap, or a surprise click, this had been a slow-forming thing, burning hot and bright within you both since the day you’d met, and building up one thread at a time. Unnoticeable as it grew, until it was too strong to ever be broken. 

You’d always been able to read him so well, and he’d known you like he could read your mind. Turns out, it was your heart he could read instead.

Wrapping your arms around his neck once again, he hauled you up against him, supporting your weight as he lifted you onto the tips of your toes, and met you halfway to the kiss. 

Just like before, it was shy and tentative, a new step in your relationship that had to be learnt, and you took it slow. Your mouth moved cautiously against his own, memorising every drag, every feeling of his soft sighs and the sweet sounds he made. It was intoxicating to be so close to him, to indulge in something you’d only ever dreamed of, and for it to feel so normal.

Like you were always meant to be right here, your lips moulded to Azriel’s and hearts beating as one. Nothing had ever compared to this, and nothing ever would. 

Nervous kisses melted away into curiosity. What had once been delicate, his hands sitting steady on your waist, soft presses of his mouth to your own, smiles and bumps as you twisted and learned became smoother. His fingers danced up your spine now to cup the back of your head, your fingers lacing into his hair, and he held you where he wanted you, each kiss getting longer, deeper, lips parting further as you grew bolder. 

Scratching your nails lightly over his scalp, Azriel gave a soft moan, the sound making your head spin and lips part. Given the chance, he sucked your lower lip gently, until you were so dizzy with the feeling that he was all that was holding you up. Twisting you around, your back pressed into the doorframe as he towered over you, one, ragged breath taken before his lips were crashing back down into your own, and it was your turn to moan. 

His tongue slipped between your parted lips, stroking slowly over your own, sensual in a way that made you breathless, letting him suck the air from your very lungs as you tasted him for the first time. It was addictive, the feel of him on you, the taste of him in your mouth, something you never wanted to forget, and never wanted to let go. 

His body was firm against your own, heart beginning to beat faster and faster once again in response to your own as something much fierier began to unfurl in your chest, flames burning hotter and higher together. Dragging his mouth from your own, you were left panting, his lips glistening and eyes dark as he pulled back to take you in, staring as though he’d never seen anything like you before. 

You couldn't take it, the intensity of his love, of his passion, it was too much, and if you were going to have any self-control at all, you had to act. You pulled him back down, until your lips could brush across his lips again in a kiss only designed to be a peck. By the time he was reciprocating, you were moving on, a kiss to his cheek, to his jaw, to his chin, anywhere you could reach, until the heat died down, and a laugh left his lips when you blew air over the ticklish spot below his ear. 

“So, that’s new.” You whisper, placing a kiss on that spot before sinking back down, letting him keep you crowded into the frame, but with your foreheads resting together, eyes closed. 

“Only physically.” He mumbled back, hand sliding away from your hair and down your arm, to link your fingers together instead. “I’ve been kissing you in my dreams for a long time now.”

“That was so cheesy.”

“Get used to it.” His laughter was laced into his tone, and your eyes rolled behind closed lids, but the smile never faded. “You’re the best gift I could have ever asked for.”

At that, your eyes snapped open, the excited gasp on your lips making him follow suit, pulling back to stare curiously. “I got you some really good gifts under the tree. I mean, maybe not as good as a mating bond, but, pretty good.”

Your heart clenched in your chest at the look on his face, slipping out from under him and tugging him by your connected hands toward the couches, to which he happily followed. As you gathered the gifts, he winnowed out, returning minutes later with hot chocolates and a bag in hand, and making his way back over to your side. Sinking onto the carpet in front of the fireplace instead, you left him with a single, deep kiss in thanks, before retrieving the mug from his hands, and blowing carefully at the steam.

Marshmallows bobbed across the surface as he took a seat before you, tucked underneath one wing and pressing up to your side. Placing the bag into your lap, you found the remnants of today’s gingerbread cookies, the ones that had been your absolute favourite all day. Your head snapped up, lips parting to ask how he knew, before feeling the tug in your chest at the bond, and your lips closed once again, your answer found. 

As he sipped at his hot chocolate, you paced your own to the side, taking his cheeks in your hands and pulling him close enough to leave a kiss on his lips, his eyes sparkling when you pulled back. 

“What was that for?”

“Just for being you.” For being mine, you added mentally, and warmth rose to his cheeks, painting them a pretty pink in response. Dragging the two stockings across the carpet toward you first, you placed one into his lap, and he discarded his own hot chocolate to take it, watching you do the same. “Open the small ones first.”

He tipped it upside down, sending several small packages tumbling out across the floor, and he lined them up neatly, before picking up the smallest first. Slipping his thumb underneath the wrapping, you watched excitedly as he opened it up, a small box tumbling out. Picking it up, he turned to face you with a smirk, running his thumb over the velvet of it. “A ring box? Baby, it’s been hours since you gave me our first kiss, little soon, no?”

“Oh, shut up.” You blushed, slapping at his arm as he laughed. “I didn’t know when I bought this. Besides, wrong finger.”

Opening it up, sterling silver shone up and caught the light, showing off the engravings inside of snowflakes and Winter Court symbols, as well as the dates of your trip carved onto the inside. Lifting it out, he admired it for a second, before slipping it down onto an unoccupied pinkie, and holding it up to see. “How’d you get it so perfect on the sizing?”

“Sometimes I steal your pinkie ones to wear on my thumbs, so I knew one of mine would fit in reverse.” his gaze moved from his finger to you, lips rolling together to conceal a smile, and just before his mouth opened, the feeling racing down the bond warned you of the kind of comment that was coming. 

“If you wanted me to give you a ring, you shoulda’ just asked.”

“Yes, every girl’s dream is to ask for a proposal.” You scoffed, leaning away from him only to be met with the resistance of his wing, snapping against your back to send you tumbling back into his side. 

“Fine. When the time comes, I’ll surprise you with it, then. Catch you off-guard. But don’t complain now if your engagement memories are all of you in sweatpants or pyjamas. Or better yet, nothing at all.” Licking over his lower lip, he winked, and you groaned, burying your head in your hands, only to enhance his amusement. He reached across you, plucking up one of the gifts from inside your stocking, and balancing it on your knees, before tugging your hands away. “C’mon, you open this one.”

It was in different wrapping paper to all the rest as you scooped it up, and he scratched the back of his neck, smile dimming from amused to shy. “I got you this back home, I was planning to give it to you here anyway.”

You offered a silent oh. Turning back to the small package and tearing it open gently, and allowing a small, woven strand to fall out. About the length of your hand, woven together were blue, silver and black threads, a gem sitting in the middle that was awfully similar to one of Azriel’s siphons, a few silver charms laced throughout it. Tracing your thumb over them, you identified each one. 

A dagger, a heart, a crescent moon, a star, and a wing. 

“What is it?” You were breathless as you admired it, a perfect representation of Azriel, and he took it from your hands carefully. 

“It's… a bracelet. Gwyn likes to make them. I saw her wearing one at training one day and she told me about them. I made it for you. You’re all I ever think about, so, maybe it was selfish, but I wanted you to have something that made you think of me. I wanted you to have something that would make me come to mind when you saw it. You don’t have to wear it, but-”

“What are you talking about?” Thrusting your arm out before him, a sense of relief filled you inside, and his face softened to match the emotion. “Put it on me right now, and when we get home, I’ll have it enchanted to last. I don’t want to take it off, ever.”

“Well, that’s just a little dramatic.” He teased, but did as you said, latching it carefully onto your wrist and tying it tight so it wouldn't slip off by mistake. “You really like it?”

“Like it? Azriel, I love it.” You traced your finger carefully over the woven strands, the silver one showing a little glitter as you examined it even closer, and your cheeks started to hurt from how much smiling you were doing. “For the record, though, you don’t need to give me any gifts or jewellery to be on my mind. You’re living there rent-free already.”

He didn’t reply, turning away to hide the look on his face by selecting another gift instead. 

On and on you went, exchanging gifts and stealing kisses between them, moving through the piles as you opened everything you’d found for one another since arriving. 

You gave him some mystery books, a couple of new notepads and pens, and some various creams and potions. Also on his pile were the enchanted gloves, designed to keep his hands warm, a new dagger sheath with his initials printed in, and a first-aid kit that could fold up small and fit into his bags for missions. Lastly, were a few fidget toys you’d found, his shadows being the true recipients for those, and they were already busily occupying themselves with their new toys, leaving their master to a little peace and quiet. 

That particular gift has been such a hit that Azriel had practically dived atop you, his lips meeting your own as your back met the carpet, giggles swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you passionately enough to convey his thanks. 

His gifts for you included some romance books that he said came highly recommended, accompanying the statement with a smirk. Also in your pile was a new, handmade scarf, with bright colours and soft fabric that you couldn't wait to wear. A bookmark, a couple of candles, and a pair of earrings designed to look like the falling petals of your favourite flower.

He’d received equally passionate kisses for each of those, time melting away around you each time you fell into him. By the time you were finished, you were surrounded by piles of gifts, and bundles of discarded wrapping paper. Empty mugs, an abandoned bag of crumbs as you’d finished the cookies between you, the fire dying down to embers, sorely in need of new logs but utterly neglected as you’d kept one another warm all evening instead. 

“Should we tidy up a little?”

“‘Suppose so.” The words were mumbled into your hair as Azriel continued to nuzzle there, holding you curled against his chest as you laughed. Pushing yourself up onto legs that had gone numb long ago, he groaned, holding out his hands to you and letting you tug all that heavy Illyrian muscle to its feet, before stretching out and shaking his wings into action. “I’ll put the gifts away in our cases if you handle the other stuff?”

“Sounds like a deal.” You dropped down, scooping up the bundles of wrapping paper into your arms, crunching them tightly into balls as Azriel gathered up all of your gifts first, carrying them over to the bed and pulling out the case you’d stashed underneath. They took up half the space just as you watched him begin to stack things inside, a problem considering you had the rest of your belongings still to go back in there in a few days, but you’d have to figure it out. Maybe he had spare room in his. 

You eyed the pile of gifts you’d given him. Probably no spare room there, either.

Tossing the bundles of paper into the fireplace, the flames rapidly began to grow back to life, and you poked in the ashes to revive a little more heat, adding a few more logs and some coals to make it through the night. Gathering his gifts, he took them away to his room, leaving to clear up the mugs and wrappers, and drag the coffee table back into place. 

Just like that, the last few hours had all been cleared away, your room restored to its satisfying tidiness. You sensed Azriel before you saw him, every cell in your body reacting as he walked back into the room, making his way over to you, and letting you turn to face him just as he reached for you. 

Falling into his touch felt like home, his arms banding around your body as you cupped his face, smiling up at him as you took him all in. “Wow,” Running your fingers over his cheekbones, you shook your head in disbelief. “Wow, you’re mine?”

Silver lined his wide eyes, and he sucked gently on his lower lip as he nodded. “And you’re mine, my love.”

Your heart skipped several beats at the new pet-name, and you hoped you never heard yourself be referred to anything else from him ever again, because Azriel’s love was all you ever wanted to be known as now.

It was agonisingly slow, the pull and take, the give of his lips as they moulded to your own, bodies pressing further and hands grabbing, until the place where you ended and he began became blurred. Your hands were in his hair, familiarising yourself with the softness of the stands, the way he’d hum against your lips when you tugged on the strands, the way his hands would tighten on your hips. 

Teasing his tongue along the seam of your lips, you parted them, waiting for more, but he chose that moment to tease. Instead of diving further, he pulled back, lips grazing along your jaw as he dipped you backwards, head hanging on your shoulders as he kissed his way to your neck. 

“Az…” The words were breathy on your lips, his answering groan reverberating along your skin, sucking some of the skin between his lips until it stung and you gasped, his tongue soothing over the patch a second later. “Azriel…”

“Don’t say my name like that, it’s driving me crazy.” Tugging your hips flush to his own, your whimper was barely contained by his mouth sealing back over your own. More urgent now, he took that opening, tongue plunging into your mouth and coaxing your own to play, hot and frenzied as he took control. Another moan slipped through, one that had his hips jerking against your own as he gave a soft grunt in response. 

“You taste like peppermint, Az.”

“You taste like gingerbread.” He returned, biting lightly on your lower lip in response, and your mind swirled in response to the teasing nip. “I think it just became my new favourite treat.”

Sliding your hands down from his hair to his chest, you pressed lightly, pushing him backwards. He stumbled away, eyes snapping wide and hands leaving your body, fear of crossing a line, and you smirked at his misunderstanding. Backing him up, you followed his steps, until his legs were pressing to the edge of your bed, and he was falling back to sit. His confusion became a grin as you crawled into his lap, a leg caging either side of his hips, and his large, calloused hands slid up your thighs slowly. 

Your lips slammed back into his own, Azriel’s moan in your mouth tasted like honey on your tongue as you reunited once again. It was preposterous, to think you’d known Azriel for so long and hadn't been doing this the whole time, to think that you hadn't spent every moment of every day kissing him. The bond between your bodies was pulling taut, shaking with glee and glowing so bright it could light up the night sky. 

You could feel it within you, all but singing with anticipation, and you rocked your hips into his own. That one, small movement had you both falling apart, wanton spills of needy sounds leaving you as you repeated it, again and again, riding him through layers of clothes as your kisses grew messier. His hands took over, slipping over your hips to sit on your ass and squeeze roughly, rocking you down against him perfectly until your eyes were rolling in your head, the perfect friction pressing into you. 

Your hands skated around his body, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his lungs under your hands, until your fingers were running down the seam of buttons under one wing on his back. 

“Fuck, Az…” Your whimper only made him growl, picking up his intensity, biceps flexing through the sleeves of his t-shirt as he used you like a toy against his body. Your foreheads were pressed together, lips barely brushing with every pant for breath and your gaze moved down to watch the place that you were rocking together as your fingers fumbled with the catches. 

Your panties were sodden now, likely dripping through, and you were sure that you were starting to spot a wet patch growing on his sweats from your movements as you undid the seals behind his back. As soon as they came loose, you were pulling back, motions stopping for a torturous moment as you tugged his t-shirt up and over his head now that they were free of his wings, having to raise on your knees to get it off his arms. 

As soon as it was free, you were tossing it away, his hands returning to your body and he slammed you back down against his clothed erection, a cry spilling from your lips at the act. 

“Oh, gods, you feel so good already.” His head fell forwards, forehead sitting on your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin as he bit down to hide his desperate sounds. Your fingers traced over his shoulders, tattoos you’d seen a thousand times before but you’d never had an excuse to touch. So many promises, so many bargains, you wondered how many of them belonged to you. 

Over the centuries, Azriel had made many promises to you, and as if reading your mind, his head lifted. Taking your hand, he dragged your touch down from his shoulder to sit over his heart, various swirling patterns that would blend into the rest at a distance, and your fingertips twitched over his skin. 

“Your promises sit right here, every mark you’ve ever left on me has been on my heart, inside and out.”

“Oh, Azriel.” His hand sealed over the top of yours, your rocking slowing to a stop as your other hand cupped his face, breaking through the heavy lust for a breath of fresh air. He leaned up, nose bumping your own, smiles that made it impossible to kiss as you shared the same breath. “I can’t believe it.”

“You never even suspected it?”

“I never considered myself your equal, it didn’t seem possible.” Your power was nothing compared to his, your skill and stealth the same, and he gave an empty laugh, stealing a kiss from your lips despite it.

“You’re worth so much more than I am.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You scoffed, peppering his cheeks with kisses to banish his self-deprecating thoughts, and you felt the stretch beneath your lips, a tell of a smile. Sitting back you tugged your shirt up and over your head, breasts spilling free before his eyes, and he licked his lips, fighting to keep his gaze on yours. “You can look, Az. I’m yours to look at.”

“If I look, I’m going to lose every last shred of self-control I have.”

“So lose control.” Your smirk was back, leaning in to brush your lips together and taking his hand from his own heart, bringing it to sit in the centre of your chest above your own. “Every beat is for you, Azriel. I never let myself think about it, because it would have crushed me to know I wasn’t yours. I was preparing myself for the eventuality that one day you’d find them. Someone incredible, someone who is your equal, in power and skill and every way that matters.”

“You may not be as strong as I am.” He mumbled, standing from the bed with you in his arms, like you weighed nothing at all as he kept your legs tight to his waist and twisted you to the bed. “But that is because you’re not Illyrian.”

He crawled up and over you, balancing his weight on his knees and palms as he caged you in. Reaching over his shoulders, you dragged one finger along the ridges of his wings, watching his face screw up and jaw drop open as you toyed with his most Illyrian trait. 

“You may not have as much stealth as I do, but that is only because you don’t control the shadows to hide in.”

You never noticed the shadows snaking up your legs, the dark tendrils helping him to lift your hips, and he eased your leggings and panties down your legs, your thighs clamping shut with a sudden wave of anxiety as he dropped the material to the ground, leaving you bare before him, tracing his hands up your calves again. 

“You may not have my power,” His hands closed over your knees, forcing your legs back apart for him to settle between, and a flush of heat left a blush over your body at his strength. “But that is because your skills lay elsewhere, my love.”

“Oh, yeah?” There wasn’t nearly as much sass as you intended, and he only nodded, dipping down to leave kisses on your inner thighs, groaning the closer he got to your dripping centre. 

“Yes, darling.” Circling one finger at your entrance, your head fell back, a cry of his name as he sank that finger deep into you, biting down on the inside of your thigh as he slid into you easily. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“A result of another of your skills.” You huffed out, back arching as he crooked his finger, teasing you for your comment and pumping that lone digit. 

“You are sweet, and friendly, and the best courtier I’ve ever seen.” He picked up speed, your fingers clenching in the sheets, dragging at them as you clawed for strength, for anything to hold onto. “I may have brute strength in a physical fight, but I have never seen anybody win an argument like you, to win a battle of wit.”

“So, I’m the best at being bitchy? Gee, tha- ahh! Azriel!” Your sarcasm was cut short by one finger becoming two, a slam into you as your eyes rolled back, and he chuckled at the pathetic serious of whimpers you let out when he began to stretch you out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“You’re also the best at winding me up, nobody gets under my skin quite like you do.” Your body was trembling, teetering on the brink of ecstasy as his fingers continued to seek out and abuse the spot inside of you that made you cry out. “But despite those shining qualities, they are not my favourites. Your heart is equal to mine; you love fiercely, you care deeply, you are loyal and kind and true. You are brave and strong of spirit, and you never give up.”

Slipping his thumb up to your clit, your back arched clean off the bed, a few sloppy circles had your mind shattering as you exploded into bliss. His voice soothing you through it, deep and raspy as he watched you unfold, a spike of arousal in your chest from him as he watched you crest. 

“Most of all, my love,” He pulled his fingers out, your legs still shaking in the aftermath as he began to kiss up your body, letting your thighs tremble on either side of his hips as his lips found yours again. “Your power, is over me. I am entirely at your mercy.”

“Kiss me.” You begged, shaky hands coming up to grip his cheeks, and he nodded.

“With pleasure.” His lips worshipped yours the way his words had worshipped your mind, the way his hands worshipped your body, and your grip skated down to push at the last clothing on his body. Shoving at them, you whined at the effort, sitting up and letting your chest press to his own until you could get them down, his cock springing free, slapping between your wet folds and nudging your swollen clit. “Are you s-”

“Don’t ask me that. Don’t ask me if I'm sure, when thinking about this, thinking about you and me has been my guilty pleasure for decades.” Wrapping your fingers around him, he offered a shaky moan, hips rolling with your movements as you dragged his cock through your wetness, gathering your arousal onto his tip, before lining him up. 

“Not just for the bond, then?” He questioned, laying back into the sheets, one hand at a time raising above your head as he pinned them there, stretching your chest out before his face. Shadows swirled at your wrists, holding them in place for himself, a couple more tugging your ankles apart, rendering you utterly at Azriel’s mercy. 

“Not just for the bond, Az. For you.”

He nudged inside, sinking slowly into you, inch by inch until you felt like you were going crazy, needy for every inch of him to fill you up, for that bond to reach its strongest yet as your bodies connected wholly. When his hips finally sat snugly against your own, you were babbling his name senseless, and he was panting shallow breaths through his teeth to hold himself steady. “Gods, you feel like heaven.”

Azriel pulled back, a single thrust that had both of you calling out, your hands gripping him, legs tight around him, and he did it again. Building up steadily in pace, he rolled his hips into your one, hard and deep, your body firing in response like nothing you’d ever felt. With every slam of his hips into yours, every whisper of praise in your ear, you reached higher and higher, feeling like you were leaving your body behind. 

His name was a whine on your lips, your hands struggling over your head, fighting against his bonds, and they gave little. His head dipped down, marking every spot on your skin with his kisses, until he was tugging one of your nipples between his teeth, and tears line your eyes at the spark along your spine that resulted. 

This wasn’t just fucking, this wasn’t just making love. This was two souls bonding, finding one another and trying together so fully that you’d never be apart again.

“Please, please, Az. Let me touch you too.”

You found the strength to lift up, to meet his lips as his head raised to yours, a sloppy kiss slamming in the middle of you as his speed picked up. Every part of you honed in on the connection of your hips, the shudder that shot up your body each time, enough to send you flying up the bed if it wasn’t for his hold keeping you in place. You couldn't help the thought flickering through your mind, thanking the Mother and the Cauldron and everything else that the man you’d be tied to for the rest of your life was fucking phenomenal in bed.

“I want to hold my mate.”

He groaned out, body weakening at the word that fell from your tongue, and the shadows slipped away only a second later. As soon as you’d regained use of your hands, you were doing just that, surging out to hold onto him. One hand looped around his neck, holding him tight as your heads sat together, eyes held in an endless gaze, and he slowed his movements, bringing you back down to earth as your body wound up tighter. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for so long.”

“Is it everything you hoped it would be?” You teased, running a hand down his sweat-slicked arm, and he caught it, lacing your fingers together and pressing it back into the bed. The frantic swirling of his shadows began to calm, a frenzy becoming a sensual dance as his thrusts became nothing more than slow rocks into you, your hips working together in harmony. 

“You’re so much more than I could have ever dreamed up.” Your chest filled with emotions, clashing between your hearts along that newly formed bond, and you squeezed at your connected hands. 

Raising your other hand over his shoulder, you didn’t take it gently this time, swiping your palm along the inside of a flared wing, and he roared. A sound that wracked through your body, his hips growing fast once again, violent thrusts the longer your hand remained, his control fraying as you brushed the right spots. You’d touched his wings before, all the places that caused no sensitivity and arousal, this time aiming for every place you’d never dared reach for.

Moving inwards, toward the base of his wings, your touch grew firmer, rubbing your thumb along the place where his wings met his muscled back on the inside, and a broken sob left his lips as his arms gave way. The full weight of him collapsed down atop you, hips grinding, your own orgasm teetering on the edge. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop…”

As your peak crashed into your full force, his name was a shout on your lips as you came undone, your palm pressed into the thick leather of his wings. Twitching fingertips, your nails scraped, and with a sound like you’d never heard him make before, Azriel followed you over the cliff. 

His body shook, warmth erupting inside of you, leaking out around your connected bodies as you tried to rock up into him, meeting him thrust for weak thrust until the stimulation was all too much. He pulled his cock from you with a trembling breath, barely pulling away enough to release him before he was collapsing back down on top of you.

It hadn't been the wildest of sex, nor had it been the best it would be, you knew that by the feelings in your chest he sent across. No, this was different. This was needy and frantic and overwhelming because it was new. It was a boundary being crossed, it was lives being changed, it was the future finally falling into place.

Just one day ago, this time last night, he has nothing more than your best friend. As you’d curled into him to fall asleep one day ago, it had been with no idea what his lips tasted like, or what it felt like to connect to him so completely. 

His arms banded around your waist, soft kisses to accompany the thoughts you must have been blasting out as clearly as screaming them aloud, and he settled his head on your chest after leaving a final kiss on your lips. You let your arms circle him too, a kiss on the top of his head that made him smile against your skin. 

You both agreed, as you fell asleep once again tangled in each other’s arms, that nothing would ever be the same.

[litnerdwrites]

Justice for Nesta recs (AO3)

Most, if not all, of these recs are in the Justice for Nesta/ ACOSF rewrite/fix-it vein. It will be updates as I find more fics, but feel free to send any recs you have.

TRIGGER WARNING! Many of these fics will be very dark, with references to suicide, ptsd, misogyny, and IC BS. However, I'll be sure to add specifics where applicable.

Fics For Those Craving Nesta JusticeI put all the fics I found into one collection on AO3 that, as the title suggests, are for those craving Nesta Justice. Please read the relevant tags for each fic, as many of them contain reference to PTSD, SA (both past referenced and in story), and general IC BS.

I'll also list every fic in this collection bellow, just to keep them all in one place. Feel free to also add your own finds or works if you have any. The collection is open, but moderated.

Those the Stars Cannot Hear by @kataraavatara An ACOSF rewrite where Mor makes good on her threat to leave Nesta in the CON.

Baby, now we got bad blood by Pumpkinspice_Lou They say you should never come between a male and his mate. Rhysand should've known better. Aka Cassian finally choosing Nesta. Completed two-shot.

A Court of Vice and Victors by Wishcamper Acosf rewritten by a therapist. Need I say more? Incomplete.

You Made Her Like That By BookWorm77071 A few days into their Hike from Hell, Nesta is able to form one coherent thought: I don't want to do this anymore. So she stops. Three chapter short story. Completed.

Nesta becomes a baby by Theladyofbloodshed Exactly what the title says. Oneshot.

A Court of Tangled Flames by Theladyofbloodshed A Neris fic where Nesta gets the love story she deserves.

ACOTAR snippet collection by Theladyofbloodshed A collection of Acotar what ifs.

Nesta vs. The Buffer by Theladyofbloodshed After Nesta finally snaps at another 'family' dinner, calling Cassian and Mor out on their shit, she begins to heal and fall in love on her own terms. With a certain shadowsinger. Completed. Nezriel fic. Anti IC but they kind of redeem themselves at the end. Completed.

AU Where We Pretend Acosf Didn't Happen by Theladyofbloodshed An alternative take to ACOSF, starting from post ACOFS. Nesta ends up leaving Velaris, starting herself on a journey of self discovery and healing. TW Beron Vansera, implied/referenced SA, IC being assholes.

Nightmare Dressed Like A Daydream by This_Immortal_Hope Nesta was a wolf. So, much like a wolf, she bided her time, accepting her exile with ice in her and determination in her heart. When she was ready, she tore their Court of Dreams apart with their own hypocrisy. One shot. No ship. Rhysand is thoroughly put in his place. Oneshot.

Second Chances by miryamdev Cassian apologises to Nesta after the HOFAS bonus chapter.

A trick of the light by closet_monster There was nothing condemning about madness or paralyzing fear. Nesta was familiar with both — they seemed to be a recurring theme in both womanhood and life in Hewn. Oneshot. TW Depression, self harm, and implied abuse. Please double check the tags before reading.

Burn for Eternity by rosemai Nesta is defeated and broken down by the words of her sisters and the IC, so she takes matters into her own hands and meets a group on individuals who could give her the help she needs. Incomplete.

Nesta's Truth by grovellingboyfriends After another year of leaving Nesta alone, Cassian finds Nesta in her apartment on Solstice, standing over a dead man. TW for implied SA, parental abuse, Elain is a bitch. 3/5 chapters published as of making this post.

Daylight by Flowerflamestar Nesta Archeron, banished and betrayed, ran from cold and hatred straight into the light of Day and found a place where she could belong. Completed.

Might I Suggest You Don't Fuck With My Sis by MacabreGiggles The intervention rethought, where the Archeron sisters decide to stand up for one another and put the IC in their place. Incomplete.

I died. I will die. It's alright. I don't mind. By MacabreGiggles Nesta resorts to other means to cope, like drugs. Incomplete. TW. Abuse. Alcolism. Suicide. Sexual assault. Drug abuse.

The Veil of Silence by Hrizantemy There exists a veil of silence, it shrouds our voices masking our truths, muffling our cries, our voices are muted, and dreams whispered. Incomplete.

You're a crisis of my faith by porque_nolosdos Nesta and Elain leave the NC, and upon seeing the IC's reaction, Feyre decides to ditch them too. Incomplete.

A thousand cuts by adelindschade It finally clicks for Cassian just how badly Nesta was hurting (it only took three TW suicide TW attempts), so he decides to try thinking of what Nesta would want. This decision leaves a ripple effect that will change the NC as we know it. Incomplete.

The consequences of normality by TheTeaQueen After the events of ACOSF, things seem relatively normal. Until Cassian realises that Nesta doesn't ask for things, or that self hatred still grips her, or the facade she puts on for her family. When she starts cutting back on training and work in the library, he begins to worry. Maybe things aren't as perfect as he thought. Maybe their methods in helping her weren't as effective as he thought. Incomplete.

Three little words by TheTeaQueen Cassian finally says those three little words that Nesta needed to hear. Oneshot.

Like fire, she raged by TheTeaQueen Emerie stands up for Nesta and puts Rhys and Feyre in their place. Completed.

Of Death and Resurrection by TheTeaQueen Part 1 of In the name of healing and happiness. Nesta was ready to die. So to save Feyre and Nyx, she did. Can Rhysand, the only person who can save her, bring her back from the brink? Completed. TW Implied suicide, rape/sa, anti Elain.

Of Shadows and Light by TheTeaQueen Part 2 of In the name of healing and happiness. Technically more of a Gwynriel fic, but does have some Nessian since it follows the aftermath of Of death and Resurrection, only Azriel, Gwyn & Elain are the main focus. Ties up a lose thread or two from part 1, and is 100% Anti Elain. Completed. TW Implied child abuse, implied suicide, torture.

Of Reopened Wounds and Retribution by TheTeaQueen Part 3 of In the name of healing and happiness. A trip to the human lands to discuss the treaty leads Nesta to face Thomas Mandray again. This time, she has family willing to go to hell and back for her. Incomplete. TW Implied rape/sa, panic attack.

Lady Death and Her Kingdom by TheTeaQueen Amren pushes Nesta too far, causing her to awaken a strange new power. TW Implied child abuse. Incomplete.

The Hike, Alternatively by TheTeaQueen An alternative take on The Hike from Hell, where Nesta attempt to TW commit suicide TW, and Cassian realises just how messed up their methods, and the events leading up to the hike are. Written for Suicide prevention month. Completed. TW Self harm, suicide, The Hike.

To Pay a Debt by TheTeaQueen When Nesta sees that Feyre didn't include her in any of the paintings, she does the only thing she can think of; Run. Incomplete. TW, attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, mentioned sa.

Burning from the Inside out by TheTeaQueen An au where Nesta's secretly lived with Chronic pain her whole life, only for the cauldron and her new powers to exacerbate it. Complete. TW Implied/referenced child abuse, suicidal thoughts, ableism, internalised ableism.

The Whole Truth by TheTeaQueen An alternative take where Nesta's deepest secret comes to light when Elain explodes at the dinner table one night. This forces the IC and her sisters to reevaluate their perception of her. Incomplete. TW: Child abuse, suicidal thoughts/ideation, forced prostitution, sexual assault (underage!!)

Set my Soul Alight by moodymelanist Nesta finds solace in Autumn. No Nessian. Completed. TW Implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced rape, implied/referenced torture.

Falling by becauseofreading Another take on what happens after Cassian tells Nesta that everybody hates her. Incomplete. TW Self harm, suicidal thoughts, blood and injuries.

Destruction and Renewal by Vorbi Nesta is given the opportunity to form new alliances. Initially, she scoffs at the idea, but after a small, final act of disrespect from the IC, she decides to see where this new path leads us. Incomplete. TW Implied/referenced abuse.

No One Likes A Mad Woman by Separatist_Apologist You made her like that. Nesta has had her choices tripped away, so when Eris offers her an out, she takes it. No happy ending for Cassian. The Night Court gets no sympathy. Completed. TW Domestic violence

A Cup of Tea by shaziskhalid After realising that the Cassian of her dreams isn't the Cassian she's mated to, everything changed. (MCU! Wanda, modern Au). Incomplete.

Promise by Daughterofthesea Begins during that scene where Cassian follows Nesta, and ends with him understanding just how much pain she's in, and deciding to actually help her.

Stay here (I love you, but I need another year) by littleplease Nesta is tired, and losing the will to even try. Complete. TW Apathy, depression, vuage suicidal thoughts.

What you did to me (I'll spend my life trying to rise) by filthymouthedslut Nesta is done with the IC's holier-than-thou attitude. No ship. Incomplete (3/4) as of updating this post.

Everybody hates you by Booksandsushi A different take on the time Cassian tells Nesta that Everybody hates her. Incomplete.

Change is good by Booksandsushi Nesta figures her life out on her own. Complete.

Truth of the Heart By TheFreakPanda The months after ACOFAS leave Nesta presented with some new opportunities. Full of therapy and dancing. Completed.

I've Always Liked to Play with Fire by catalyste After her village is destroyed and family killed by Hybern following Feyre's revenge mission, you wake up healed in the NC. After Lucien leaves you there, you find yourself trapped with Nesta Archeron, who turns out to be an unlikely ally. The two of you plan your escape with the help of Eris Vansera. Polly, Neris/reader, with IC bashing, and dragons. Incomplete.

The relapse by Janes_Melodies Something broke in Nesta when she learned about the results of the vote, knowing it was a tie until Feyre. She was trying for her sisters and for Cassian, yet they still think she's cruel enough to create a whole new trove just to kill them all. For the first time in months, she gave into her desires. Incomplete. TW Alcoholism, Implied/referenced self harm, suicidal thoughts.

You're safe now by annieleonhardtsring Rewrite of the scene where Nesta falls down the stairs, and Azriel stands up for her. Complete.

Love her how she should be loved by julemmaes Cassian overhears his family making some not-so-subtle comments about Nesta, and it pushes him over the edge. So he goes to bat for her, blaming his friends for everything wrong with their relationship with his girlfriend. Modern AU completed.

The Nest World - The Next Life by bat_called_phil ACOSF canon divergence fic that starts with the intervention, but diverts when Nesta takes a stand for herself, and Feyre starts holding Rhys accountable. TW Implied/referenced suicide, Implied/referenced abortion.

A Court of Spite and Isolation by xxTAO Nesta choses the human lands, separated from the IC and the distractions from her trauma, she spirals. Incomplete (4/6) TW Suicidal thoughts, Implied/referenced alcoholism, Suicide attempt.

Come Home by Rhysanoodle Cassian learns how Nesta's been living since she came to Illyria, and which fears haunt her the most. Complete.

[centuryberry]

Shadowiceflower Adventures

Otherwise known as "Macaque's Extended Bachelor Party" or "What Happened While Wukong and Yue Were Away"

A Brief Summary: For once, Macaque doesn't just sit and wait for Wukong to come back home. Instead, he goes out with Shanzha and RinRin to make some memories and maybe leave a mark on the world.

Macaque, Shanzha, and RinRin last about one (1) week without Wukong and Yue before they break down and cry. They just miss them so much.

After a night of getting completely hammered together, RinRin gets the bright idea of going on an adventure - just the three of them. Macaque is reluctant to leave FFM but eventually agrees.

The three start small: They visit the Demon Bull Family first.

Everything is pretty chill until Red Son starts to lose control of his Samahdi Fire. Shanzha manages to ease the flames with her ice powers and buy Macaque and RinRin some time as they search for a specific flower known to help manage and repress demon powers.

Red Son is (temporarily) saved though the event makes PIF and DBK consider asking for celestial help since their son's abilities mostly come from the celestial side of the family.

The trio move on. They stop by a Demon Night Market so they can buy rare wares and trinkets for Yue and themselves.

RinRin meets an unpleasant Owl yaoguai and decides to steal their lantern so she can gift it to Macaque. This sets off a chain of events that gets the trio into trouble. They somehow get out of the ordeal intact and alive. Shanzha is upset at RinRin's riskiness but Macaque is moved by the gift.

From there, the trio decides to visit Macaque's homeland. The lands were ruined and ransacked and were a sad sight to see.

Macaque, Shanzha, and RinRin stay in the Macaque Spirit Clan's castle overnight and discover that it's haunted. Or, more like, RinRin is painfully aware that it's haunted while Macaque (part of the bloodline) and Shanzha (a shrine maiden) are oblivious until RinRin decides to deal with the ghosts.

Instead of putting them to rest, Macaque uses his new lantern to give the ghosts shadow forms. They now guard the lands, keeping outsiders out. They also acknowledge him as the current Macaque Spirit King.

Since the Spirit Macaque Clan territory is located between FFM and LoES, they use the land to gather all of the FFM soldiers and generals willing to throw down with some snow monkeys for sending a child bride.

Macaque, RinRin, and Shanzha enter the territory first to gather information and stir up some shit. RinRin and Shanzha give Macaque a makeover and sit back and laugh as LoES falls over themselves to impress and court Macaque.

Macaque gets the ego boost of his life. While he really doesn't have to do anything, he takes the initiative to learn from RinRin how to flirt and seduce. He also learns from Shanzha all the underhanded tricks that the residents of LoES might pull on him. He flourishes during his time there.

Though, in their information-gathering, the trio slowly realizes that there's a conspiracy afoot. They dig a bit too deep and are imprisoned by a clan leader who isn't as moved by Macaque's looks (unfortunately).

Enter: Nezha, who had been scouring everywhere to find the three so he could bring them up to Heaven. He breaks them out of jail and ends up getting tangled as the monkeys continue to unravel a concerning thread of thralls and followers of a Bone Demon.

Nezha was insistent that they come with him at first but then he saw the state of LoES firsthand and witnessed children's lives being threatened daily.

LoES child: "There's a God that Protects Children?"

Nezha: (devastated at their disbelief)

Nezha was onboard with helping after that. He was the one who would evacuate the children whenever the scheming trio upended a clan and dethroned its thralled leaders. Eventually, he was the one who led the charge against the Zodiac Monkey Clan when civil war broke out.

There's this one moment when Macaque enters the compound and finds the room Yue used to live in with Shanzha and RinRin. It was so small and bare and it broke his heart seeing it.

LBD's influence over the clan made it more hellish than it already was. Many of the clan members were all too happy to back Shanzha as the new heir and leader. Anything to escape LBD and Yishan's rule.

Shanzha and Yishan (the Thrall) engage in a one-on-one inheritance battle. Shanzha nearly takes his arm off with her arrows. Yishan nearly takes an eye out but scars her instead. The fight ends up as a draw because of Erlang Shen's entrance, forcing Yishan and LBD to flee.

Erlang Shen takes an exhausted Nezha and the Scheming Trio up to Heaven where they are reunited with Yue and Wukong.

[shadowdaddies]

Balter

Balter (v): to dance artlessly, without particular grace or skill but usually with enjoyment

for @nestaarcheronweek day three: "Self-care." I would like to see Nesta find the joy she does in dancing without the judgment and need for perfection she faced as a child, and I think that that could be a form of self-care for her.

Pushing down on the brass handle of the entry door, Nesta pressed forward over the threshold and into the building. Feyre had mentioned an empty dance studio near her art class on the Rainbow, and Nesta had finally worked up the courage to go inside.

The dim hallways echoed with her footsteps, that and her quiet breathing the only sounds in the building. A door was cracked open to her left, light pouring into the hall from what she could see was the studio.

Nerves wracked through her, shaking the anxiety out of her hands before gaining the courage to step into a room so similar to those her grandmother had forced her to spend hours in as a child. 

But when she stepped into the space, there was a warm to the light, and a comfort she felt at being the only person in there. There were no strict teachers, no mothers or grandmothers to critique her form. It was only Nesta, and she couldn’t help the pleasured smile that reflected back at her through the mirrored wall.

Setting her bag down in the corner, Nesta settled in for warm up stretches, breathing deep to let her muscles fully relax as she pushed and pulled them. She was surprised at how peaceful it was in here, a place to herself.

Standing, Nesta moved to her bag and retrieved the symphonia Cassian had gifted her, eyes glittering at the sight of the thoughtful gift. Setting it down in front of the mirror, she tapped the orb and basked in the melody that rang through the space.

She let her body flow with the music as she began to dance. Occasionally trying movements and variations from her childhood dance lessons, Nesta smiled both when she recalled the movements perfectly and when she made a “mistake.” 

There was no one here to tell her how to do things, how her shoulders were hunched or her legs weren’t turned out. It was a new type of freedom she hadn’t experienced yet, and it unleashed a new type of joy.

Twirling as many times as she could, spilling her soul into each motion with precision and error, accuracy and disregard, Nesta bloomed in the freedom of movement. She expressed herself, lost and found herself in the music until she was dripping in sweat. 

Wiping her forehead, Nesta heard a knock at the door and looked up to see Cassian’s proud smile. The Illyrian leaned against the frame, admiring his mate for a long moment before he spoke.

“Feyre mentioned that you might be here. I thought we could go for dinner in the town tonight?”

Nesta’s smile only grew, a release she’d unlocked within herself pouring into the world and spreading like bright wildfire. “I would love to,” she replied, running to press a kiss to Cassian’s lips. “Let me get cleaned up here.”

As Nesta moved to collect the symphonia, a tune started playing which tugged on her heartstrings - the song she and Cassian had first danced to at the Court of Nightmares, and again at their mating ceremony.

She looked to the doorway in search of her mate, but found it empty. Instead, Cassian stood behind her in the center of the room with a knowing smile, one arm politely tucked behind his back as the other remained held out for her to accept.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered, breathless at the sight of Nesta’s gaze on him, those silver flames in her eyes every bit as powerful as when they danced to this song the first time.

Her gentle hand wrapped around his, the other resting on his shoulder as they danced - not how they did at the Court of Nightmares, or even at their mating ceremony. They danced like they were the only two people in the world - two souls recklessly twining together like thread of fabric, without care if they might tangle, for they’d be together forever nonetheless.

The song ended, but they danced in the quiet for some time after that before Nesta’s stomach growled. A soft chuckle escaped Cassian’s lips, the general looking down at his mate to admire her features.

“Let’s get you some dinner,” he whispered, and she nodded, immoderately content in that moment. “I watched you for a moment. You seemed very happy to go back to dance,” Cassian noted.

Nesta nodded, tossing her bag over her shoulder before reaching for Cassian’s hand. “I was. I think it’s a nice form of self care, almost therapeutic for me. I think I’ll keep doing it.”

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 25

Sorry to leave you on that cliffhanger last time :-)

A buzzing sounded in Nesta’s ears. It grew to the point of pain. A silence clawed up the walls. She wasn’t breathing, every breath her lungs tried to suck in wouldn’t come.

Cassian reached out a hand for her.

‘Azriel. Take me away. Azriel.’

Nesta was swept up in a blur of shadows and wished she was swallowed into oblivion instead.

Her whole body trembled violently. She pushed away from Azriel to stagger to safety, but they weren’t in the Autumn Court or even the Hewn City.

They were in a darkened cave that held a slight warmth. Harsh light streamed in from the mouth set at an angle against the stone and she could see snow falling heavily.

‘Where are we?’

‘Illyria. Far north.’

Azriel scratched the tattoo on his wrist roughly.

‘Take me home. Take me back to Eris.’

The shadow singer shook his head once, still scratching his tattoo with discomfort twinging his features. ‘I can’t, Nesta.’

‘Azriel, please.’

She hated the desperation in her voice, but Nesta would have got on her knees and begged if she thought it might have swayed him. Her bottom lip began to wobble then tears spilt down her cheeks. Her cheeks flamed but the rest of her body was cold and unprepared to be outdoors in just a dress.

Noticing her distress, Azriel took a step forwards, but she shrunk away, heart caving in on itself. ‘Azriel, take me to my husband. Please. Just take me home.’

He swallowed, shaking his head again. ‘Nesta, please listen. I cannot take you there now. I can’t. For your sake and Eris’.’

The moment continued to repeat on her – Cassian’s words, her laughter then the sudden tautness that had come over her like her ribs were being peeled apart to expose her beating heart.

Nesta doubled over and vomited.

She heaved and heaved until nothing more could come out.

Azriel was there, helping her to rise and cutting off a length of his top for her to use as a rag to wipe her mouth.

When his hands pressed against her shoulders, Nesta didn’t shrug him off. She was grateful for the little warmth his body could give her. ‘Rhys will be keeping Cassian as under control as possible but the last thing any of us wants is him charging into the Autumn Court and demanding the Blood Duel against Eris.’

Nesta tried to protest. She didn’t want Eris in the dark – or to find out from anybody other than her.

Azriel squeezed her shoulders tighter.

‘Did Beron know you’d come to the Night Court?’

‘No.’

‘It puts the entire alliance in jeopardy if Cassian goes there – and Eris’ life is in danger not just from Cassian, but Beron too then. I will not take you there in case Cassian does go and catches your scent. He will be frenzied. It could spark a war.’

Nesta felt adrift with nothing to cling to. ‘What am I to do? Where am I to go? I just want Eris. I wish I’d never visited.’

The last thread that had been keeping her together snapped. She broke then, letting out great, shuddering breaths as she cried. Azriel did his best to soothe her but he didn’t circle a hand against her back as Eris did, he didn’t nuzzle against her hair like her husband did, and he didn’t try to find a solution like her best friend did.

‘You’ll freeze here,’ he murmured, stepping away. He glanced towards the mouth of the cave and for one terrible moment, Nesta imagined Cassian swooping through the gap to steal her away.

‘I can’t go home. I can’t go to the Hewn City. I won’t ever go to Velaris again. Where am I to go, Azriel?’

Again, he clawed at that tattoo. It was hurting him because he hadn’t truly fulfilled his portion of the magical deal.

‘Trust me. You’ll be safe. Then I’ll go back to Velaris to find out what’s happening.’

‘Get to Eris. I need to know he’s safe.’

‘You’re my priority. And his. That was the deal.’

If Eris heard that a mating bond had snapped, he would be devastated. Nesta already was. She felt hopeless. In her heart, she felt nothing but betrayal – but at what? The Cauldron? Prythian? She’d tried to do good and speak to Feyre, to try and save her life, and this was how the universe treated her.

‘I just want to go home.’

Shadows swept around them, engulfing them in darkness for a moment before it spat the pair out on the fringes of a vast estate. It stood in the foothills of a mountain range with snow blanketing every inch of the place. There were many wooden cabins clustered together in the grounds – some larger than others with two floors – with thick wedges of snow on the roofs and smoke billowing from chimneys where fires were lit. There had to be at least twenty homes on the grounds, but when Nesta tried to count them, her vision blurred at the edges and she was unable to stare at them for long.

‘What is this place?’

‘Inside,’ Azriel murmured. ‘Too cold to stand around talking.’

With an arm to guide her – or to keep her from winnowing – Azriel led the way towards the largest cabin stood in the centre of the small village. He knocked a couple of times on the door before letting himself in.

The cabin was quiet, but the soft scuff of footsteps somewhere upstairs signalled that they weren’t alone.

Her body shook from the cold.  That and the horror that had unfurled over breakfast.

She was foolish to have felt proud of herself. Nesta had survived the night in Velaris without old wounds being re-opened. She had squared up to Rhysand without balking. She had been proud. Then it had all been thrown back in her face. Every good deed, every triumph. Fate mocked her.

‘This is Rosehall,’ he murmured. ‘It’s a safe place for females. Nobody knows about it. Only Rhys knows my mother is here – not the other females.’

‘Other females?’

All of the cabins then made sense. With no library available for Illyrian females, Rosehall had become a sanctuary cultivated by Azriel and his mother. That was why her vision had blurred, because it was heavily warded and only his presence had allowed her access to it. She had read a book from Eris’ library specifically about casting wards and the various levels that could be created.

The rustling of wings sounded down the stairs and Nesta held her breath, deathly afraid again that it would be Cassian.

‘Azriel, I wasn’t expecting you until evening.’

The female stopped short at the sight of her son and Nesta lurking in the hallway. They hadn’t ventured further into the house out of politeness. Her son looked like her; the same almond-shaped hazel eyes, sweeping cheekbones and full lips. There was little difference in their ages that Nesta could see but that meant nothing to the fae. There could have been twenty years or two hundred between them.

‘Oh. Hello, high lady.’ His mother swept her head low as she offered a curtsey.

A blush stole across Azriel’s cheeks. ‘This is her sister, Nesta.’

Matching blushes came over Nesta and Azriel’s mother’s cheeks. ‘Forgive me.’

‘We look alike,’ Nesta said, swallowing against the dryness in her throat.

‘Is the snowball fight about to begin?’

Azriel turned his face to the ground, avoiding looking at his mother. ‘Not this year. I have to go. Will you look after Nesta for me?’

She stole a glance at Nesta, eyebrows creasing together with concern. ‘Certainly. None of the cabins have spare rooms. I do have two here that are empty, but we will need to think about expanding if-’

‘Just for a few hours,’ Azriel said swiftly, still not looking at his mother or even Nesta. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

Without any chance to protest or beg him to return her to the Autumn Court, Azriel strode back out into the snow.

When the door swung shut behind him, her heart ruptured again. It was like that damning day where she had been summoned then trapped into the House of Wind. She let out a broken sob and hurried for the door, hand wrapping around the handle, ready to wrench it back open, but a gentle hand turned her by the shoulder. Arms engulfed Nesta and she let herself be embraced, let herself fall apart in a stranger’s arms.

‘I just want to go home,’ she repeated.

‘I know,’ the female soothed as she kept her arms wrapped around Nesta.

***

Not a single moment of sleep had come to Eris. He had spent the night pacing. At one point, Orla had even joined him downstairs for a cup of tea with creases on her face from the pillow, claiming his thoughts were so loud that they had woken her.

‘I just want her home,’ he said once dawn had cracked the sky and the healer had come back down stairs.

Orla nodded absently as she prepared a breakfast that Eris wouldn’t touch.

‘Their shadow singer would have returned Nesta if anything had happened. The deal was iron-clad. He knows to bring her straight here. That was in the wording. Surely he couldn’t bypass the deal even if Nesta didn’t expressly demand a return here.’

‘Eris,’ Orla said, brows rising. ‘You will make yourself sick.’

His eyes stung from exhaustion. Several times during the night, he’d stepped out of Orla’s house to stand in the darkness as if anticipating the arrival of his wife in a blur of shadows. The dogs hadn’t settled either; they’d traced his steps through the house. He was surprised he hadn’t worn a track in the floor from his pacing.

‘Two hours. Just two hours left,’ she said.

Two hours felt like an eternity. He couldn’t imagine a life without Nesta by his side – but one where she was condemned to the Night Court caused his emotions to become unmanageable.

‘Why do I feel this sense of impending doom?’

Orla folded her arms across her chest, trapping her braid within them. ‘Because you haven’t slept and you’re hungry. It always feels like the end of the world when you’ve not rested.’

 ‘How can I rest? How?’

‘You are so dramatic,’ she said, a smirk curling her lips. ‘Have you ever considered a life on stage? I really think you’d excel.’

His friend came to stand in front of him then placed her hands on his shoulders. ‘Eris Vanserra, you are making yourself sick with no good reason. Niamh and Ashur have not been in contact which is a good sign. It means nothing has happened. I bet Nesta has gorged herself on Solstice food and is enjoying a lazy morning in bed. Eat something before I force feed you.’

His voice came out as a whisper, ‘I am so worried.’

A thumb swept along his cheek. ‘I know. And I will laugh about it with Nesta when she’s home. The cruel heir of the Autumn Court, having kittens because his wife left him alone for one night.’

‘It’s the longest night of the year.’

‘Still one night, Eris.’

***

When the Illyrian female tried to lead Nesta towards a fire, her panic descended to new levels. She couldn’t cope with the fire, not now.

‘Alright, alright,’ the female soothed, as Nesta jostled to get past her, back towards the hallway. The female didn’t let her past, just pulled her arms around Nesta again so could press her face against the warm skin of the female’s neck and sob. ‘You are very cold. Come with me to the kitchen. The stove is on there.’

Nesta didn’t truly believe she had a choice in the matter, but she followed after the female, eyes snagging on the brutal scars criss-crossing over her wings. They reminded her of Emerie’s wounds, but this female’s scars were worse. The scars were aged, thick and ridged, that rendered flying impossible. More than clipping, this was been frequent damaging to make the wings almost useless. Nesta doubted there was any feeling in them. Emerie, at least, could twitch hers or move them slightly going through doorways. There were no adjustments as the female walked; her wings clipped the doorway, but she didn’t seem to notice. They were a dead weight on her back.

By a huge black stove, Nesta took a seat on a three-legged stool. The female retrieved a blanket and wrapped it around Nesta’s shoulders.

‘A hot drink to warm you up from the inside, I think.’

Without question, she had begun taking care of Nesta. The female boiled two copper kettles on the stove after filling them with water then began toasting bread and slathering butter on it.

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You need to eat,’ she replied in a gentle, but firm voice that left no room for debate.

Nesta accepted the plate and forced a mouthful down but it tasted like ashes. How long had it been since the bond snapped? Twenty minutes or less? Yet it felt like an eternity of damnation.

‘You’re Azriel’s mother?’

‘Call me Rovena. Yes, I brought that sweet boy into the world.’

‘And this place is for…’

‘For females who need a safe place,’ she finished. ‘Here, I used to do this for him when he was little and afraid of fire.’ Rovena wrapped a ceramic bed warmer filled with boiled water in a towel then tucked it against Nesta’s lap beneath her blanket so warmth spread from it.

Her shivering slowed until it ceased. Rovena didn’t push her. She merely continued brewing tea then left the room for a moment.

Nesta took the chance to peer out of the window, over the crust of snow that had settled. What a remarkable place this was. And a secret. One that Azriel would never yield to his family – but he had taken Nesta here, to prove his vow that he would keep her safe. It was better than the library. She doubted the females here had to work then return to a small room in the evenings. They could take a walk, feel the air on their face, visit the homes of other females in this almost-village. And at the heart of it was Rovena who welcomed in any new females. There were rooms in this cabin to settle in newcomers, to offer the care to those most in need of it before they spread their wings and settled in another cabin. Maybe some of these females even left the sanctuary to return to their lives in Illyria once they were ready. They didn’t need to rely on somebody flying them down ten thousand stairs.

It changed her opinion of the quiet shadow singer. This was a good place, but Nesta wished that – like the library – it didn’t have to exist. Azriel understood the necessity of it, but it was his brother who could change things. Still, she was thankful that he had created such a place with his mother.

When Rovena returned, she removed Nesta’s shoes then peeled off her wet socks. Her toes were red and numb from the cold. The female remained unbothered by it. There was a dogged determination to her actions that suggested to Nesta taking in females and caring for them had become a well-rehearsed dance. She slipped a pair of clean socks onto Nesta’s feet and the warmth eclipsed them at once.

‘I won’t ask you what happened. I won’t pry. But if you want to talk then I am ready to listen.’ A warm, brown hand cradled her cheek.

Nesta couldn’t speak. She didn’t want to give it a voice. If she told people about the bond, it made it real. All she wanted was to go home to Eris and find a way to break the bond.

‘I want to go home,’ she sniffed.

‘Is home safe?’

She thought of Eris who had been so worried about her leaving. She’d been grateful that he hadn’t blocked her visit, hadn’t acted like her brother-in-law and pulled rank over his wife. But now she knew, she wished he had. Wished Eris had never let her out of his sight.

Nesta’s face cracked again as she nodded. ‘I should never have left.’

***

Only Rhysand was in the cold, black room belonging to the Hewn City when Eris arrived early. Every step towards that room had been the tightening of a noose.

‘Where is my wife?’

Rhys spread out his hands, placating. ‘Eris. Sit down.’

There was no arrogance in his tone for once. He felt his stomach tighten.

She wouldn’t stay there. Nesta wouldn’t want to remain in the Night Court. She wouldn’t.

‘Where is my wife?’

Fury built inside of him, growing with every ragged inhale. If they harmed her-

‘The mating bond snapped.’

That flummoxed him. He fell into a seat. Instead of the white-hot anger that had coursed through his veins moments before, ice coated his insides. He couldn’t breathe.

‘To who.’

Rhys spared him a sorry glance. He didn’t want his pity. ‘Do you need to ask?’

He clenched his fingers into fists beneath the table. A mating bond was a gift from the Mother. The only thing more sacred was a child. Eris wanted to rage, wanted to destroy every wall in this miserable fortress – but his wife had found her mate. How could he be angry when she had something that others searched their whole lives for?

Eris swallowed, trying to manage his emotions. It was futile. They were written plainly on his expression – and he was glad then that only Rhysand had been in attendance to witness his mourning. He wiped his face with the back of his hand.

‘I understand.’

Mates. Mates. Mates.

The word echoed in his mind, more painful each time.

‘I will have her belongings packed and brought here by sundown.’

When he stood, Rhys caught him by the arm, preventing him by leaving. ‘You think Nesta has accepted it?’

‘She would be here if she hadn’t.’

Those violet eyes shuttered closed. ‘I have a heavily pregnant mate at home. Morrigan, Varian and Amren are trying to keep Cass contained before he tears halfway across the world to find Nesta. I want to be home. I need to be there. You need to return to Autumn and wait there. At the healer’s. When I have Nesta, she will be returned and shielded from him.’

‘Where is she? Where is my wife?’ Panic slithered down his throat.

Rhys gave a tight shrug. ‘Azriel took her. I don’t know where. His shadows won’t let me locate him.’

A rare and fragile hope flickered to life in Eris’ chest. There was no place safer for Nesta than the cottage. Perhaps she was there waiting for him. His wife wasn’t one to hide – if she wanted the bond then she had the courage to face him, Eris knew.

Eris didn’t know if Rhys was in his head or not, but the high lord shook his head as if reading those thoughts. ‘Cassian is incensed. If he scents Nesta in Autumn then he will demand a blood duel with you. He thinks Nesta is being held against her will and is afraid of you.’

‘Afraid of me?’ He blurted. ‘I’m not the one who forced her to march until she fainted!’

And then suddenly Nesta’s departure made sense. Moon-eyed children dreamed of one day growing and finding a mate – an equal in every way – but Nesta hadn’t known what a mate was until a couple of years earlier. And now, her equal was the male who’d laughed when she fell down the stairs, who’d never made her a priority.

If Nesta wanted her bond, if she wanted to try with Cassian, then Eris would follow her wishes even if it broke him.

But, if his wife wanted to rip that bond apart, he would be her sword and her shield. He would bleed himself dry than ever let that brute lay an unwanted finger on his love.

‘She never should have gone to your court. I knew it was a bad idea from the start. If any harm comes to my wife, I will not rest until I see the rivers of Illyria run red with his blood. I will curse the name of every Illyrian who draws breath. And if that brute thinks he can force my wife into submission, I will bring a nation of fire to these lands and see it turned to ash.’   

@owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @this-is-rochelle @sv0430 @embersofwildfire

Just a short update - and of course Rovena gets into every universe :-)

If you like my fics, would you consider reading my original work. The paperback is coming soon, but it is also available as an eBook on amazon/kindle unlimited

[esther-dot]

Beauty and the Beast

Tokens of Life (give me) 9k WIP by @ihaveastorminme

Jon thought of his mother's family often. But he never heard a whisper from them. Not once. Until the day the northern wind howled through the ancestral halls of the dragon Queens, bringing with it snow and wolves’ cries at its tail. Five hundred different deities in that hall, and nobody whispered when she walked in, tall and forbidding, the skirts of her dress swirling about her like mist and snow glittering unmelted in her flame hair. She looked at him... and everything changed.

No Rose Without a Thorn 24k

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The Beast, the Beauty, and the Bastard 3k

It is a reworking of Disney's Beauty and the Beast, but with a bit of a twist. Hope you enjoy!

Certain As the Sun 22k, incomplete

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Gifset by @dcbicki and Gifset by @yenstarkofrivia

Rapunzel

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flower shaped heart 25k, incomplete @missfaber

Alayne Stone has lived her whole life in her hidden tower, forbidden by Mother to leave. But she yearns for an adventure like the ones in the songs, so when a man named Jon Snow crashes into her tower and into her life, she seizes the chance. They travel to King's Landing where the floating lanterns shine each year on her nameday. The new world is exciting and frightening, but Jon Snow is there to guide her every step. He is not nearly as terrible as Mother said men are, though the rest of the world might be. Danger, betrayals, and lies form the steps of their journey as Alayne uncovers terrible secrets. corresponding moodboard

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Tangled edit by @kitten1618x, Tangled edit by @queen-sans-in-the-north, Tangled edit by @sardoniyx

Tangled gifset by @dcbicki

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Sleeping Beauty Gifset

East of the Sun and West of the Moon

you are my sun, my moon (and all of my stars) 133k

When the white wolf came, the Lord of Winterfell had no choice but to give him his eldest daughter. Eddard Stark had grown up on legends of wolves, on the stories of bargains made by the First Men, on the knowledge of the price that he and his family might one day be forced to pay.  His father had explained the reason their house had taken a wolf as its heraldry and “Winter is Coming” as its motto, a reminder of a promise to honor, a recognition of a debt owed that would need, one day, to be paid. Ned had breathed a sigh of relief when his sister’s twentieth winter arrived and the beast had not. And he had watched the dawn sky for the first signs of the snow that would mark that his daughter, too, might also be spared, might escape the fate that had been handed down by their ancestors. But no man could be so lucky.  Sansa, too, had been born with the North in her blood, had been raised on the stories of white wolves, had lived her life with the knowledge that one might come for her.

this is the map of my heart, the landscape after cruelty 22k by @dialux

“I fell,” Sansa says softly. “I flew.” [When a strange, hooded man appears out of nowhere, demanding a woman in return for keeping the Others and dead out of Westeros, Sansa goes with him. It’s the best and worst decision of her life.]

PRE CANON - WESTERN - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6

[velidewrites]

The Chocolate Incident || Elucien Drabble

Summary: Exactly what you’re expecting - just come inside

Word Count: 800

Warnings: None, just fluff!

To no surprise, Lucien had found his book entirely uninteresting. Discarded in his lap, it laid patiently—waiting to be picked back up again, blissfully unaware that the moment would never come. Despite its heavy weight, Lucien had practically forgotten about the tome, his gaze drifting somewhere out to the sparkling azure of the sea. The open archways serving as windows in his personal chambers provided excellent view, and with the sharpness of his Fae gaze, he could make out the pearly white foam gently coating the shore, prompted by the quiet, rolling waves. The sight reminded him of the earrings he’d purchased all those decades ago—it had been this very city he had gone to, the Day Court’s capital well known for procuring the finest jewellery.

After all, his mate deserved only the finest things.

Despite the nearing Solstice, people still wore loose tunics and dresses out in the sun-veiled streets, their fabric floating atop the breeze the sea had carried in. Helion’s magic would keep the Court warm for as long as the Mother willed it, allowing the seasons’ natural course to stall for just a little bit longer.

Lucien was grateful for his father’s stubbornness. He was never a devoted fan of the cold, a sentiment Elain, too, had shared with him the moment her belongings had been moved into the palace.

A small huff sounded somewhere near the door as it clicked shut, snapping him out of his thoughts, and there she was.

She was so beautiful his chest hurt. That golden flame inside him blazed alive at the sight of her at his doorstep—the way it always did whenever she was near. Elain was like the rising sun, brightening up every space she stepped into, the honey glow of her eyes and the shining bronze of her hair practically begging him to never look away.

As if he ever would.

He rose abruptly from his chair, the book falling to the stone floor with a loud thud, a sound far too insignificant for him to so much as register it. He wasn’t usually so careless with his books, but wherever Elain was concerned, Lucien’s priorities seemed to shift with as little as a wave of her hand. Not that he would ever stop them, Cauldron forbid.

She slid the plush, woollen hat off her hair, revealing a mess of those golden brown waves he was practically longing to tangle between his fingers. She must’ve winnowed in less than a minute ago—the snow woven here and there into her hair, her cheeks still rosy with the frost. Elain’s lips parted slightly as she huffed again in what was unmistakably exasperation, reaching for the scarf wrapped tightly around her neck.

Lucien smiled brightly.

“Not a word,” Elain warned, as if she could sense his grin without casting a look in his direction—she probably could, truthfully. Something about the thought made that flame inside him sing.

Throwing the scarf to the couch, Elain finally stepped into the room, her steps leaving wet marks atop the pristine marble. Lucien couldn’t help his chuckle, then—she truly was no fan of the winter, if the fervour she’d stripped off her coat with any indication.

In the sweetest, most innocent voice he could muster, he asked her, “And how was Winter, my beautiful, wonderful mate?”

Those doe-like eyes narrowed, the sparkle in them calling his bluff. “You’re trying to butter me up,” she accused.

Lucien stepped in closer, hand reaching to brush a stray curl off her face. “That could be arranged,” he purred.

The blush on her cheeks deepened—though Lucien was willing to bet it had little to do with the cold breeze she’d brought in. “Not after the chocolate incident,” Elain countered, voice dropping conspiratorially as though everyone in the palace could hear. Lucien couldn’t entirely dismiss the possibility—his father was an insufferable gossip, after all.

Lucien hummed. “Those sheets were no good anyway.”

Elain laughed then—and Lucien followed suit, knowing the slight furrow of her golden brows would not return for the rest of the night. She leaned into his touch, letting his thumb brush over the pink staining her cheeks, over the crest of her bottom lip.

Lucien’s breath caught in his throat when she pressed a kiss to the pad of his thumb. “I missed you,” he told her, voice thick.

Elain looked up from beneath her long lashes and met his gaze. “Did you, now?” she asked sweetly. “How much?”

He took her hand in his own, pressing a slow kiss to her palm. “I’ll go get the chocolate.”

“You’re impossible,” she said, a traitorous smile tugging at her mouth all the same.

“I love you,” he told her simply.

The smile bloomed on his mate’s face at that. “I love you, too.”

[shiyorin]

#A story about Fulgrim and his dear agent

#Reader is Imperial Agent

#Maybe cheesy, I don't know

Celebration raged within the Pride of the Emperor, lauding some recent victory you cared little for. But revelry meant relaxed protocols, a rare chance for reprieve from duty's rigors. And you partook freely, allowing carefree pleasures seldom indulged. Wine flowed rich and heady, loosening inhibitions with each quaff. Laughter came easier as night deepened, lashing you lighter and looser till worries dissolved on fermented tides.

A passing servant refilled your goblet unbidden, bearing a flagon of rare vintages from a paradise world. You sipped appreciatively, tension seeping from tightly-wound muscles under alcohol's warm caress. Drink flowed freely and you eagerly partook, letting wine-soaked revelry carry worries downstream. Hours passed in a haze, surroundings blurring yet warmth spreading through weary limbs. All too soon had bottles emptied, head spinning pleasantly as body sighed surrender.

Rising unsteady, you wandered in search of new diversion. Gaze drifted haphazard across boisterous crowds, latching upon lush plumage amid a flock of preening nobles. Your primarch, lord Perfect stood resplendent, holding court through honeyed words and flashing smiles that once stirred heartstrings.

"Bah, empty flatterers a lot." you grumbled, eyeing Fulgrim's patience enviously.

Memory floated vaguely, had you always found him so striking? Of course. He is lord primarch of III legion. Fulgrim the Perfect. Mind drifted as legs carried you ambling path ever closer, drawn as moth to glorious flame. Fulgrim noticed the approach, bidding flock disperse with practiced grace to spare privacy for he and you.

Fulgrim wrapping you in a steadying arm, concern lit amethyst eyes scanning for injury.

"My agent, have you been drinking again?" he sighed, exasperation battling amusement seeing you wobbling grin.

"My lord, you looked like you needed rescuing," you whispered. "From these swollen head simpletons with their incessant bleating!"

A flash of mischief lit Fulgrim's eyes, eagerly joining any plot to unsettle pomposity. "Indeed, though it seems I must rescue you now!"

Sweeping you up unceremoniously, he deposited you upon his massive arm, smirking at your unnoble like sprawl. You sagged against him, awash in heady scents of exotic perfumes. But then you began wriggling restlessly, limbs flailing with drunken kittenish abandon.

Fulgrim grunted, fighting to maintain balance beneath your inebriated writhing. "My dearest, do cease your fussing or I'll drop you amongst these peacocks!"

You merely giggled uncontrollably, squirming ceaselessly in his chest, nuzzling into it as warmth spread through chilled form. An itch arose beneath the skin, demanding satisfaction. You writhed against him, kneading clawed grip along sculpted arm. A purr rose in your chest, desire demanding release something.

Fulgrim sighed, resigning himself to an undignified struggle until balance prevailed once more.

At last you stilled, slumping bonelessly against Fulgrim's chest. He peered down into your flushed. His fingers stroking your spine in a manner at once soothing yet stirring ominous lusts within.

"Never a dull moment with you, my dearest. Come, let us away before you cause more trouble."

Scooping you close once more, Fulgrim departed. Your laughter is fading into the distance still.

Fulgrim sighed as you squirmed restlessly against his chest, shredding silk robes in an unconscious frenzy before gradually subsiding into exhausted slumber. He gently brushed tangled locks across silk folds now rumpled. Strange to find such unbridled potency contained within frail mortal flesh.

One delicate finger traced your lips, split and swollen from conflict yet no less exquisite. A token caress, but you stirred against him with low purr, seeking warmth instinctively. Fulgrim smiled softly. His touch trailed lower, tracing delicate collarbones bared by rumpled silk, feeling heartbeat quicken.

You sighed drowsily but not stirred from a reluctant nest. Fulgrim paused, gently easing free from rumpled silks cocooning your form, Fulgrim lifted you into strong arms. Your head lolled bonelessly onto silk-clad shoulder. His steps carried both through winding halls to lavish chambers sealed from curious eyes.

Soft silks and plush furs welcomed weary forms, Fulgrim settling you lightly upon awaiting down. You stirred briefly but exhaustion held fast, sighing content as Fulgrim joined you casually amidst luxuries gleaming in lamplight’s golden glow.

One arm curled about your slight waist proprietarily, fingers tracing subtle contours while imagination spun fantasies still. Fulgrim smiled faintly. Your skin bared awaiting revelation by caring touch. He closed eyes languidly.