#acotar oc

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Three

☁︎ notes: sorry it took so long to get this one out 💛

Clementia really is the goddess of mercy and healing but I made up the part about the feathers. There will be more half real/half made up references to mythology so buckle in lol also Eris is kind of Cardan-coded in this chapter

☁︎ warnings: talk of injuries, talk of Beron's abuse, drunk characters

☁︎ word count: 1.9k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @cauldronblssd @mybestfriendmademe @teddyhoneybear @tele86 @imma-too-many-fandoms @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove

The ring summoned Aya again nearly a week later, just as she had finally made it back to her dorm room in the Healer’s wing. Lessons had run late, after which she had been called to a family dinner by Thesan. Her feet were sore and the pair of clean pajamas waiting on her bed called to her. Her heart leapt into her throat at the thought of what sort of injuries had prompted that ring to glow, regret sinking its claws deeper into her gut. Another long night of keeping Eris’s soul tethered to his being?

She heaved a deep sigh, shouldered her bag once more, and winnowed away from her cozy room.

The designated winnow spot was in Edana’s private courtyard, surrounded on all four sides by her rooms. The Lady had carved a spot out of the wards - or had bribed someone to do it. Edana or one of her two trusted guards were to wait for Aya in the courtyard. The written copy of the bargain details instructed that if anyone else were to ever greet her, she was to winnow back to the Dawn Court without speaking to them.

All very calming, naturally.

Tonight, one of Edana’s guards met Aya in the courtyard, which she considered a good sign. The guard did not say anything, only nodded in greeting before turning on his heel. Aya shivered in the Autumn chill and trailed after him. No one had told Aya the guards’ names yet, and she was too shy to ask. They were a little intimidating, stone-faced and armed to the teeth. Obviously, they cared about Edana's safety a great deal, and she had not stopped to wonder what they thought of the Lady hiring a strange healer and adding her piece to this hidden game board.

The dark-haired man led her through Edana’s sitting room to the stone passageways. She followed him through the dim, winding halls, finding them to be as deathly silent as the first night. She was beginning to wonder if the whole house had a curfew, or if they had all simply adopted this code of silence as a means of survival. Everything had been tainted such a suspicious color after that first night.

His feet made no sound against the stone floor, even in those heavy, clunky-soled boots. Aya followed suit, keeping her steps light, though her satin slippers would not have made much noise anyways.

When she crossed through the wards into Eris’s rooms, a wall of commotion wrapped itself around her, such a contrast from the silent hall that it made her jump. Eris was cursing and arguing with his mother, the second guard attempting to aid her in holding him down. Aya’s widened eyes flicked to the couch by the hearth where a bruised and bleeding man lay unconscious. Or sleeping. He was nearly a copy of Eris - redheaded and tall, with broader shoulders and bulky muscles.

“They got drunk and had a fight,” Edana sighed as Aya made her way to the big bed.

“Bastard had it coming,” Eris spat loudly, trying again to free his arm from his mother’s grasp."

“Stay still,” Edana snapped, “You were stabbed, for Mother’s sake.”

Aya gasped at that, and Eris turned his head toward the sound. He had not even noticed her come in, too focused on earning his freedom. When his gaze landed on the healer he let out a cry of delight and held a bloody hand toward her without even so much as wincing.

“All is well,” Eris pronounced, “Clementia has arrived.”

“Hush,” Edana hissed, “Or your father will hear you.”

Aya’s skin felt hot, her stomach dropping in fear of the knowledge that the High Lord was at home tonight. She chewed her lip and set her satchel on the edge of the bed. Eris was still as a statue now, watching her with interest.

“Clementia is an angel of mercy,” Edana said to Aya, rolling her eyes as other guard chuckled. “He likes to read mythology.”

Aya’s cheeks burned and she looked down at the heir, his amber eyes fixed on her. She shook her head and grabbed a wet rag from the side table. She was familiar with Clementia’s legend but she had not made the connection of who Eris thought she was.

“Did you receive my prayer of thanks?” Eris asked, a hand clutched to his chest like he must brace himself in her presence. He still did not wince as she pulled up his shirt and began to clean his injury. It was shallow for a stab wound, but it certainly would not heal well if he started thrashing around again. She could humor him if it meant he stayed calm.

The second guard, blond and bearded, started to laugh at Eris’s smitten gaze, but Edana shot him a look that shut him up. The Lady turned her attention to her other son, out cold on the couch.

“Yes,” Aya said to Eris, gently moving away the hand that attempted to cover his wound. His bloody fingers wrapped around hers and held on. It was likely he was so drunk that he was not feeling the full effect of his injury. “It was lovely. Please stay still, Eris.”

“Yes, angel,” Eris breathed.

Aya kept her eyes on her work and did not dare look at the glowering Lady or her giggling guardian. She knew it sounded like a pet name. But she didn’t think she minded much, not with how lovely it sounded falling from his lips.

Eris stayed quiet now, obedient to her every command. He watched her with such reverence in his eyes, as if still surprised she had appeared, worried she may go away again at any moment. If only he knew she was just another healer from the Dawn Court, no benevolent angel of mercy.

She wondered if he’d ever truly know her or if all of their meetings would be this way - inebriated or delusional from blood loss. And she hoped for both their sakes that the next time would be different. And maybe a part of her hoped to meet him in a state where she could really learn something about him. Something to compare to the rumors. All she knew at the moment was that he liked mythology. And that he fought like a hellcat when drunk.

“Beron would not approve of them fighting, would he?” She asked as she worked, her voice soft. Every movement tracked by those diligent amber eyes.

“Not in this manner, no,” Lady Edana answered, returning to Eris's bedside, “Not without his command, at least. He sees more honor in besting each other with strategy.”

Of course he would. Only Beron’s hand could inflict pain. That was how he stayed in control. Everyone else must impress him by playing his games perfectly. Aya had never expected to gain so much knowledge about the Autumn Court’s High Family and everything she learned made her more grateful for her own court and Thesan’s gentle rule. It also illuminated another aspect of Edana's secrecy.

This foolish behavior was a stark contrast to the tales and rumors of the Autumn sons, with their father’s brutality and their mother's brains. It certainly dimmed the intimidation to see that hulking brother passed out, mouth open and drooling on the velvet couch. Whatever Aya saw gave her power. And that golden ring took it away again. Edana did not yet know that she had picked someone with such an ambivalent heart. Capable of indifference and yet undecided.

When Aya finished dressing Eris’s wound and cleaning his filthy hands, she slipped a sleeping pill into his water and gave his shoulder a pat.

“Sleep well Eris,” She said, eager to get away from his relentless stare. Then she turned back and added sharply, “And listen to your mother.”

She shifted, about to make her way to the brother on the couch, but Eris’s voice stopped her.

“May I have a feather?” He asked, his voice remarkably soft compared to his terrible volume control from before.

“What?” Aya asked, hoping their audience did not notice the break in her voice. She knew the myth. That Clementia bestowed a feather upon her favored for luck.

“May I have a feather for luck?” He asked again, the gleam in his eye so hopeful it was almost painful.

For a moment, she considered it. It wouldn’t mean much, it would quiet him down and that would be that. But the weight of the Dawn Court customs would not release her. The tips of her ears grew hot, thinking of plucking a feather and handing it to him. Feathers were for honor, promises, and love. Even in the far friendlier, casual environment of her court, it wouldn't be seen as appropriate.

“You’re lucky enough just to be in her presence, you oaf,” Edana muttered, shaking Aya from her stupor. Eris frowned but he didn’t argue. He looked resigned, like he agreed with his mother's sentiment.

Aya silently thanked Edana and turned her attention toward the couch once more. The brother was not in terrible shape, with just a scattering of bruises and small cuts that would heal by morning. Luckily, he was far too drunk to remember anything by tomorrow. She hoped that Eris would not remember any of this either.

She had not failed to notice Eris’s split knuckles and she wondered what this brother had said to provoke him so. She might have asked, as they had humored all of her questions so far. But it seemed that neither Lady Edana nor her guards wanted to meet her eye as she inspected the younger Vanserra. As if there was something about this fight they were not saying. Or perhaps they were just embarrassed.

Aya told herself she did not care either way. She had decided, throughout the course of this visit, not to ask any more prying questions or sleuth or try to solve anything. She could not help her curiosity, but Thesan had ordered her not to meddle. And every answer to every question sat heavy like a stone in her heart. She did not want to carry all of that with her, anyways. So she finished patching up the anonymous brother, left a tonic one for the now-sleeping Eris, and returned to the comfort of the Dawn Court.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The next morning, Eris’s shame pestered him as incessantly as his headache. Twice now, this poor healer had had to witness him in such a pathetic state. Gods knew what he had said last night. His mother wouldn’t tell him. She told him it was his punishment for being so foolish that he had to wonder what embarrassing things he may have said.

The only hint he got was in the note the healer had left him, beside a tin of fresh balm for his scars and a tonic for the hangover.

Drink lots of water, avoid stretching your wound. I look forward to your next prayer of thanks.

Your angel,

Aya

Eris blushed and cursed himself for it. He hadn’t known her name and had gotten into the habit of referring to her as Clementia in his mind. It must have slipped out.

He remembered little glimpses of what she looked like. Warm brown skin, eyes of lilac-grey, and small, capable hands. His fingers went to the wound in his side. Once again, he had been healed impeccably. This one had left a scar barely an inch long.

He had yet to thank her for all that she’d done and he wished that he could. But he did not know where to reach her or what a proper gift might look like.

Without him even realizing, without even having property met, she had begun to haunt his thoughts. Like a guardian angel, only a shadow of wings at the edge of his vision.

[goddessofwisdom18]

Crone, Mother, Maiden

[witchysquirrel]

Epiphany Masterlist

A Cassian x healer!OC fic

Summary: Cassian and Ravenna have been friends for centuries, Ravenna's work as a combat healer for the Night Court consistently throwing her into Cassian's path. When Cassian sustains a grave injury in the heat of battle, Ravenna's healing takes on heightened significance. As the two navigate his rehabilitation together, their relationship begins to transcend their previous friendship, and a connection begins to form that binds them in ways beyond words.

Themes include: friends to lovers, trauma, sex, angst, fluff, and everything in between. Note that this is mostly for my enjoyment, I'm taking massive creative liberty at times and that's okay with me. If it's not for you, no worries, but if it is I hope you enjoy!

- Work in Progress -

18+: read at your own discretion. Themes of violence, sex, trauma, etc.

*Asterisks* indicate chapters that contain smut.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen*

Chapter Fifteen*

[divinemare]

Mareena (OC): Fight me! 

Cassian: Ha, look at your size! What are you gonna do, kick my ankle? 

*Later* 

Rhys: Why is Cassian crying? 

Azriel: Mare kicked him really hard on the ankle.

[astarlitsoul]

Morning Star

Azriel x OC

@starfallweek prompt: Character A is a fallen star, Character B finds them.

A/n: This is my first time posting on tumblr (Ik I'm a decade late) and my first time trying to write fanfic. I wanted to give this prompt from Starfall Week a try. I hope to make at least a second part bc I'm a sucker for a happy ending. Feedback is appreciated, I hope you enjoy.

This is set a year after ACOSF when the red star (likely Aelin) was seen by Rhysand on Starfall.

Warnings: Angst, blood, wounds (not too graphic), I think that's it...

Rhys had truly outdone himself this year. In anticipation of Nesta and Cassian’s wedding, the High Lord had created his largest guest list yet for the upcoming Starfall. The House of Wind had been undergoing preparations for the week prior to the holiday in preparation for all the guests. The residence was being readied to host the courtiers and their plus ones, the ruling families of allied courts, and Keir and Lord Devlon plus their ilk. Even the owners of businesses the Inner Circle frequented had been extended an invitation. 

Azriel had attended far more of the balls than he could remember. In his youth, Rhys, Cassian, and he would perch atop the roof of Rhys’ mother's house to watch the streaks of light until they dwindled away. In his adolescence, it was not uncommon for one of them, often Cassian, to bring their lover at the time and share kisses under the show. (Of course, the perpetrator would be teased to no end the following day.) More recently, as Rhys and Cass found their mates, Azriel found himself missing those days. He was happy for his brothers, and he loved his found sisters. But that didn’t change the feelings of unworthiness that were spurred when he was left without a date at event after event. 

In the recent weeks leading up to Starfall, these thoughts were the subject of Azriel’s dreams. The dreams were not nightmares, per se, which Azriel was well acquainted with. They all began with a depiction of a different Starfall from his youth. However, the good memories were soured when Rhys and Cassian would fall silent beside him atop the roof. Azriel would call out for them, but their eyes would remain glued to the sky as if seeing something he couldn’t. They pointed and murmured things he couldn’t hear before they grabbed him in an attempt to winnow away. 

Even now, as he flew home the morning before the holiday, he found himself thinking over the dreams. Lost in thought, he was surprised to find himself flying over the quaint cabin. He had subconsciously altered his flight path to pass the first home he’d known. Landing softly in front of Rhys’ mother’s house, he scanned his surroundings before entering. Assured that the sun was just beginning its ascent and that much of the world still slept, he entered the cabin. 

Strolling through the small foyer and into the kitchen, he observed just how worn it was. As boys, they did a number on the cabin, leaving lasting scuffs on the floor and permanent dents in their favorite chairs. He loved the damages now, seeing them for what they were. Signs of life, proof that joy and love had filled the space. Proof that even he had known joy and love. After walking through the small rooms, he exited and flew up to the roof. He told himself he wouldn’t get too comfortable, that he’d rest for only a few moments before heading to the House of Wind. Facing the spot where the sun threatened to rise from the ocean, he took in the orange and pink hues of the pre-dawn sky. While Velaris was mostly obscured by the trees, he could glimpse the city in the distance. 

His musings were interrupted by a rising feeling that moved from his stomach up behind his ribs. His shadows, which had settled into languid movements upon arrival at the cabin, began flaring out from him in a frenzy. He inhaled deeply at the foreign sensation, and it was then that he noticed the first star in the darkening sky. Azriel cocked his head at it. Prythian's brightest star — and the last to disappear each morning — should lay behind him in the sky. His confusion only grew as the star began flickering and growing.

No, not growing, approaching. The white-hot mass was careening towards him. He ducked, lying flush against the roof, his shadows making themselves scarce in the presence of the foreign glow. He closed his eyes against the brightness before he felt a wave of searing heat through his leathers as it passed overhead. Only when the light stopped attempting to shine through his shut lids, did Azriel open his eyes. Standing once more he looked himself over, then at his surroundings. Whatever it was had bowed the trees in its path, unobscuring the view to Velaris and leaving char marks and a glittering substance in its wake. 

Let us see. Let us investigate. A few of his shadows hovered in front of his face, and he permitted them to follow the path. Reaching for Truth-Teller, Azriel wracked his mind for any information he’d know of objects falling into their atmosphere. He’d gone with Rhys to see multiple experts about the upcoming celestial event. The High Lord was still shaken by the red star he’d seen during last year's Starfall. Yet none of the court’s prophets nor astronomers had forecast this. They’d all claimed the view on Starfall was set to be uninterrupted, that only good things would come from the spectacle. It was another reason that Azriel’s dreams confused him. And a reason why he didn’t mention it to his brothers.

There is blood, Master. So much blood. His shadows whizzed back to him, wrapping around his middle and tugging him in the direction of the foreign object. Taking to the sky, he spotted a clearing a few hundred feet behind the cabin that hadn’t been there before. Upon passing the last of the trees, Azriel drew up short and hovered over the sight. There were so few things that turned his stomach after centuries of horrors. But the sight of a body laying in the crater, a tangle of limbs and wings and branches and moss had the foreign feeling returning to his chest. Landing softly, he rolled the hilt of his dagger in his palm, a nervous tic of his. He stood at the edge of the crater and found his throat tightening as he took a closer look. 

The being was breathtaking, even as it lay limply in the ground. Pale blue feathers lay beneath the body, adorning wings that bent at a too-wrong angle. The being was dressed in nondescript robes of a darker blue hue, which now lay in tatters. Much of the flesh that wasn’t shredded, was obscured by long, curly locks of dark hair and a thick layer of glittering dust. His shadows were snaking their way towards the body, picking up some of the glistening flecks as they approached when they froze suddenly. 

Alive. But the breaths are too shallow. There is a great wound.

A faint groan escaped the being and he found himself stepping down into the crater. Precaution thrown to the wind, he saw no need to intimidate the dying creature. It appeared female, as he took in the soft facial features and shapely figure as she lay against the dark soil.

“Hello?” he asked gently. 

Another groan, then a cry as the being shifted. Tightening his grip on Truth-Teller, Azriel watched a shaky hand emerge from beneath a heap of feathers to reach for what he believed was a thigh. It was then he saw the wound. The Illyrian winds had been known to whisk away even the largest tents and banners, typically with sandbags and iron posts still attached. The stake of one of those posts was protruding through the leg, too close to the center for her femur to still be intact. 

“Hey hey hey,” he sputtered as he reached for the delicate hand hoping to prevent her from causing herself further harm. While he was no healer, he knew that the bones and arteries in the thigh posed a life threat when damaged. The moment his scarred hand closed around her wrist her eyes flew open. 

Time may as well have frozen. His eyes met her own, pools of a similar hazel but flecked with stardust. Within his chest, he felt a new ebb and flow. Not of his diaphragm as he remembered to breathe, but of his end of the mating bond that had awoken within him. He was shaken from the moment when another cry left her lips.

She began speaking frantically in a language he’d never heard as she attempted to move, her eyes jumping between his face, his shadows, his flared wings, and the weapon in his hand. Her feathered wings shifted again, as she attempted to free her other arm. Sheathing his dagger, he held up his hands, a sign that he meant no harm. Realizing the efforts to free herself were futile, the female stilled, throwing him a pleading look. 

He brought his hands towards the wound slowly, one hand steadying the bloodied stake before the other felt beneath her leg. Wherever the stake had come from, this piece had broken off when it caught in her leg. 

She must be moved. She will not last long. His shadows had been working their way around her form, through the hair, feathers, and tatters as they tried to gain a full picture for their master. A few of them brushed the hair off of her face, while others seemed to stroke her hand. Something in his chest squeezed at their report.

“Let me,” he gestured to himself, “help you.” He finished by making a scooping motion with his arms. Azriel had no idea if she understood his miming, or if the bond had come to life in her chest too, but she nodded once in agreement. He pushed an arm under her back gently, before leaning her torso up from the ground. Her face screwed in pain and he paused as she took a shaky breath. He ordered his shadows to steady the stake before pushing his arms under her legs as well.

Standing up, he took note of her limp wings. What he had believed were two large wings, were actually two sets of wings. Looking up at her face, he flared his shadows as he prepared to shadow-walk to Velaris. Once again, despite her ragged breathing and pained face, she nodded at him with resignment in her eyes. Azriel was unsure if she could feel it, but he tried to soothe her through the bond before he allowed his shadows to envelope them. He hoped that she was able to receive the calming waves he sent her, and none of the panic he felt as his mate’s blood soaked his leathers.

[miyaniacs]

Corrupted by Darkness

- Chapter 5 -

Chapter 4 ; Wattpad

A/N: a bit more story for you :) What are you thoughts on it, I‘m foreshadowing 2 things here - what do you think they are? And again thank you for reading <3 

“You overreacted.” Rhys says for the nth time. 

“SHE KILLED YOU.” Feyre says for the nth time.  

“Okay that’s enough. Rhys tell us exactly what happened.” Amren says rubbing her temples. All the constant yelling from Feyre and the constant “No’s” from Cassian, annoying her to death. 

“We were training like always.” Rhys begins, “and maybe it was my fault for pushing her too much, I knew she was already exhausted…” he mumbles more to himself. 

“Being exhausted does not justify killing someone.” Feyre snarls. 

“Well I’m here right? So she did not kill me.” Rhys smiles at her placing his hand on her knee. “Anyway… She should try it for the last time for that night and everything seemed normal as it always does. The next thing I know is, that the look in her eyes became more distant… and her eyes seemed darker - then I felt the blood running out of my noes… and eyes… I tried to talk to her, yet she seemed to be distant… then I collapsed but I remember Noctis knocking her over and then the pain in my head stopped.” 

The room was silent, except for Amrens small steps, as she walks up and down in the room. 

Nesta, Mor and Cassian sit next to each other on the sofa, Elain sits on a chair next to a window, Azriel, completely surrounded by his shadows stands to her left in a corner, while Feyre sits on Rhys lap. Ever since they came back that night, she wouldn’t leave his side. The feeling of loosing her mate, again, was something she can process. 

“This can’t be true… she would never hurt any of us.” Mor whispers. Her left hand clenches around the fabric of her dress. 

“At least not intentionally.” Nesta agrees with her. For Nesta and Mor, Nea quickly became one of her closest friends. At one of their wine and gossip nights, Nea told them about her and Azriel. She was afraid of their reaction for several reasons, yet they were nothing but supportive… and noisy. Nea was the only one Nesta dared to talk to about her feelings, Mor used to crawl in her bed, when she was feeling lonely, which usually ended in then staying up the whole night talking. 

“She did and we should have known.” Azriel quietly replies from the back of the room. Now all eyes are fixed on him. 

“What do you mean?” Cassian asks, the anger slowly rising inside of him. 

“You know how we found her. I told you on the very first day to leave her there.” 

“Leave a kid alone in a village covered in blood?!” Cassian rises to his feet and takes a step towards Azriel. “She was 10. TEN AZ. Ten and standing the blood of her parents.” 

“And do we know how it was possible for a whole village to bleed out?” Azriel comments, his shadows swirling around him. 

“Why did you fuck her when you hated her all those years? Never trusting her?” Cassian hisses. Azriels shadows move closer to him, almost swallowing him completely. “Oh no answer?” Cassian laughs and throws his hands in the air, turning his back to Azriel. All eyes are fixed on Cassian, waiting for his fist to crash in Azriels face. All eyes except for Rhys. He looks directly at Azriel, his eyes showing a certain understanding and sympathy, the others don’t understand. 

“Two of the same, one good one evil, one brings light one brings darkness, one brings death one brings life. Two of the same, yet neither can live without the other.”  Amren whispers. 

“… uhm What?” Cassian blinks. 

“That’s what they whispered.” Amren speaks more to herself, “ That’s what it whispered.” She looks at Rhys, her eyes wide in shock. 

“Amren… are you sure?” He asks, gently moving Feyre off him to stand up and walk closer to Amren.

“I really hope I’m wrong.” She says, “I need to go, check something.” And with that she rushes out of the house, leaving the other confused.

“Rhysand what’s going on?” Feyre asks, crossing her arms. 

“She’s talking about Noctis opposite.”

“His… opposite?” Mor asks confused. 

“Well Noctis should be the darkness… so his opposite should be the light?” Cassian mutters. 

“But that means, Noctis brings death?” Feyre acknowledges. 

“That’s not sure. My magic has its roots in Noctis power, and besides what everyone else thinks, it doesn’t exactly brings death.” Rhys corrects her. 

“Every Power brings death or life depending on how you decide to use it.” Nesta frowns. 

“So are you implying that “light” brings death?” Mor asks.

“There’s this myth. Once there were two spirts, who roam around Prythian. No one knew where they came from, but the creatures living at that time, saw them as gods. One was used to scare the children, telling them when darkness comes, they can’t hide, they cant escape, it will see all their wrongs, which means they shouldn’t go out once the sun is setting. That’s why they should stick to the light, stick to the good. They worshipped the light, some of our celebrations are still rooted in some of the festivities they held for it. While darkness was the bad, light was everything good. As the time goes by, more bad things happened and the fae blamed the darkness, telling themselves that it sucks the powers out of the light, causing all the bad things. This resulted in the great hunt.” Rhys pauses and looked around. 

“But, wasn’t the great hunt the hunt that… allegedly… created The Prison?” Mor whispers. 

“It was. They captured everything evil and put it inside the mountain. Now… eventually they had to face the darkness. When they sent the powerful spell to kill it, Light came and protected darkness, taking the spell. The spell should kill darkness, yet it only harmed light. 

Light was deeply hurt and lost every faith in the fae, after they tried to kill . It  imprisoned itself in the mountain, where it, supposedly, up until this day, still lives.” Rhys finishes. 

“Why didn’t it kill it?” Cassian asks and drops down on the sofa again. 

“ Light was more powerful than darkness.” Nesta states. 

“But if they were opposites, shouldn’t they have the same power?” Feyre asks. 

“What if darkness wasn’t the one stealing powers.” Elain whispers from the back.

[autumnshighlady]

All I Gave You Is Gone (ACOTAR x The Silmarillion AU) - Chapter 1

RHYSAND'S SISTER X MAEDHROS

summary: The story begins with High Lord Rhysand’s sister, Ravenna, moments before her death. Before the sword is swung across her neck, she pleads to the Mother to rescue her, to intervene and get her out. Ravenna’s prayers are answered, and she wakes up in a strange land across the stars, far away from her home – Arda.

warnings: graphic violence

word count: 3.6k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: this AU is so niche that most people probably don't know what the Silmarillion is - fear not! I will be writing it in a way that you won't need to know anything about lotr or the silm to understand it, as everything will be explained. I'm super excited for this series and I hope you guys grow to enjoy it. Any support is appreciated! Huge shoutout to the Anon that inspired this!

Screams rang through the shrieking wind, rattling Ravenna’s eardrums as a coppery tang filled her mouth. It was almost impossible to see anything amidst the smoke and rain, not that she wanted to be cursed with witnessing the horrifying scene. No, part of Ravenna was glad for the masking of the carnage.

The scent of blood choked her senses, closing up her throat and making her eyes burn. Her head throbbed from the impact of its collision on the nearby rock, stomach stinging in pain from the arrow laced with faebane that was lodged in her flesh. Through blurry vision, Ravenna lifted her head, groaning as every ounce of her body protested. Up above, the few fully trained Illyrian soldiers that were stationed at the war camp were falling from the sky, their lifeless bodies brutalised upon meeting the rocky ground. Hybern soldiers swarmed them like ants, their laughter echoing above the sounds of slaughter.

Tears pricked at Ravenna’s eyes as she inhaled deeply, immobilised by her wounds and the faebane arrow in her stomach that stifled her magic. She hadn’t even wanted to come here today to the Illyrian war camp with her mother, Nienna. They had fought over it – Ravenna had even offered to go to the Hewn City with her brother, Rhysand, then accompany her mother to Illyria. She hated it there. Everything from the leering males and the icy chill, to the sight of downtrodden females with their heads low and their wings clipped. Despite being half-Illyrian, Ravenna never felt any desire to spend time there.

Her black hair stuck to her face, clinging to her skin as the rain poured down. She lifted her wings, trying to flap them enough to get her body off the ground, but it was no use. They were dead weight on her back, too exhausted from the effects of the faebane to help her. Panic began to settle in as Ravenna realised she could not make her wings disappear with the poison in her veins. Her wings were a target now, a weak spot. Unable to defend herself, she was now a sitting duck.

As she laid there half-conscious, the screams eventually stopped, her blood turning to ice at the eerie silence from Illyrians in the war camp. Ravenna let out a sob. As Hybern soldier’s footsteps echoed on the hard ground, growing closer to where she was laying beside the rocks, she knew she was going to die.

“Hey! There’s one over here!” A gruff male voice called, followed by the sound of cheering. 

No. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real.

Pathetically, Ravenna tried to drag herself away, fingernails breaking and scraping against the hard rock, efforts in vain. Panic rose in her chest as the sound of the soldier’s leering grew closer, closing in on her like a pack of wolves.

Thanks to the arrow, she had no magic to defend herself. Her asshole father, Ronan, the High Lord of the Night Court, had never even let her train to defend herself. She knew a couple moves from her sparring with Cassian and Azriel, but they were useless in this situation. Ravenna could hear Azriel’s voice in her head, pleading for her to get up and take a stand. But she couldn’t. Every muscle in her body was lifeless, her head spinning and aching with pain.

“Pretty little princess, all on her own...” One of the soldiers sneered, twirling his sword in his hands as he came to stand above her. She could practically smell his rotten breath amidst the blood covering his body that was not his own. 

Ravenna tried to lift her head, but a dirty boot quickly connected with it with such force her neck snapped backwards, body jolting painfully. Fresh blood began to pour from the gaping wound on her forehead, and she cursed under her breath. Snide laughter sounded from above her, echoing in all directions as the world spun. “Nobody can help you now, princess.” One of the other soldiers said. “Not your half-breed brother, not your spy boyfriend. Certainly not your mommy.”

Ignoring the screaming pain, Ravenna opened her violet eyes and looked upwards at the soldier. Her gaze met his blood-stained face, then travelled down to his hands, eyes settling on what was grasped within them.

In his left hand was a familiar set of wings, tarnished with mud and dirt. Blood pooled onto the ground beneath them like a river. Bile rose in Ravenna’s throat as her gaze landed on his right hand.

And she screamed, raw and painfully.

In the soldier’s right hand was a severed head with long, dark locks identical to her own. Purple eyes were wide, face twisted in a frozen picture of agony, a female mid-scream. Bruises and scrapes were littered across the face, but it was unmistakable nonetheless.

It was Nienna. Her mother. The beautiful seamstress who had held Ravenna in her arms for countless nights, who taught her everything she knew. The female who kept her chin high, even as males sneered at her for her lowborn status. Dead. Dead before Ravenna’s very eyes.

Screams continued to rip through Ravenna, cursing the Hybern soldiers with promises of slow and agonising death. She didn’t care that she, too, was about to meet the same fate as her mother. As soldiers grabbed her arms and hauled her upright to her knees, she thrashed and fought like a wildcat. More hands grabbed her, steadying her slightly as she spat at them, tears streaming down her face. 

“Hold her steady!” One of the soldiers snapped before bending down to sneer in her face. “It’s your turn, half-breed bitch. But first we gotta take care of those wings. Can’t have you flying away now, can we?”

“If you cut off my wings, I will flay you.” She spat in his face, screeching as one of the soldiers reached down and ripped the arrow out of her stomach, shredding the flesh as blood began pouring out of her faster.

The soldier snickered, his dark eyes brimming with hate as his twisted face stood mere inches from her own. “We won’t do that quite yet, that takes away half the fun. Your bitch mother bled to death when we ripped her wings from her body, so we didn’t get to enjoy her. We won’t make that same mistake with you.”

Ravenna howled furiously, sinking her canines into the nearby arm of a soldier as hard as she could. A whip cracked across her back in response, cleaving flesh from bone in one stroke as it shredded the material of her black dress. She bit down harder on the arm as pain blinded her, the blood of the soldier making her gag and eventually release him. At least her scream had been muffled.

Before she could curse them out again, she felt it. The presence of a cold, small blade against her wing. Right in the very spot she had seen scars on every female in the Illyrian camps.

No. No no no no.

She hadn’t even realised she was screaming the words out loud, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as she begged and pleaded pathetically. Flying was her favourite thing to do. She would spend hours soaring through the skies, feeling the wind on her wings as she shot through the air like a shooting star. Sometimes she had flown hand in hand with Azriel above Velaris before their relationship had soured in the last few months, admiring the dazzling view of the city below. Flying was her peace.

Ravenna had accepted that she would die at the hands of the soldiers. But to die with her wings clipped would break something inside of her.

“Rhys!” She began screaming out her brother’s name mindlessly, despite the fact he was miles away and likely clueless as to what was going on in the war camp. “Rhys! Rhys!” She screamed over and over, praying that somehow he would show up out of nowhere and save her. 

Her pleading only spurred the soldiers on more, and then that blade made an incision in the wing’s tendon near her back, the one that her wings relied on to carry her body. She barely even felt the physical pain from the slice as she screamed furiously, not just for herself, but for every female who had gone through this.

For decades, she had argued with her father over the practice of wing clipping. Gone head to head with the High Lord over it. Rhys would often have to step in, talking his father down from clipping his daughter’s own wings as punishment for slaughtering every male she could find who kept the practice going. Ravenna never cared how angry Ronan got with her over it, for she had no shame in taking it upon herself to try and end wing clipping. No matter how much he threatened her, yelled at her, she didn’t care. For she knew that she was untouchable – the people of Velaris loved her too much for the High Lord to get away with locking up or punishing his own daughter.

And now here she was, bleeding from that one tendon in her wings, rendered unable to fly for the rest of her life.

The soldiers whopped and cheered, spurred on by her tears as Ravenna cried angrily. Her body felt numb – a blessing as the Hybern soldiers began to brutalise her body with their fists, whips, and blades. Her skin was sliced and bruised and spat on, but she barely felt it. All she could feel was the hole inside her chest at the sight of her mother’s wings and head, now discarded on the cold, wet ground like trash. 

Rain mixed with blood, blood mixed with tears, mud and grime becoming her second skin as Ravenna was pummelled into the ground. A barbed whip lashed at her skin, the soldiers having ripped open parts of her dress to expose her soft flesh like meat about to be butchered. The whirling black Illyrian tattoos that marked her body were now hidden behind red blood. They had begun at her left thigh and coming up across her hips and ribs, swirling up to the right side of her body across her back and collarbones then travelling down her arm. Now, they were marred, a ruined art piece at the hands of Hybern.

Please. Ravenna begged the Mother silently, teary gaze lifting up to the darkening sky where a few stars peeked out behind the rain clouds. Please help me. Get me away from here. Please, I will do anything. Just get me out of here.

She could have sword one of the stars brightened in response. Throughout lash after lash, she kept praying silently. Grimy hands groped at her flesh, digging into the fresh wounds and twisting her like a ragdoll. She closed her eyes, feeling the cold blade of a sword line up against the back of her neck, ready to swing down on it and cleave her head from her shoulders.

And then everything went bright, instead of the darkness that Ravenna had expected. White hot fire overtook her body, and then it all faded away.

****************

The first thing Ravenna felt was the wind on her skin. It was gentler than the harsh wind of Illyria, but still strong. It soothed her body, which felt lifeless. The rocks she was laying on felt different than before, and she realised it was dirt beneath her, not stone. Her throat was dry, mouth caked with blood as she inhaled a deep breath. The air was fresh, not stifled with the scent of the war camp’s death. It filled her lungs blissfully, and it took all her strength to crack open her eyes.

She was met by sunlight, blinding her momentarily before her eyes finally adjusted. From her position on the ground, she could make out soft, windswept grass on either side of a dirt road. She was in a valley, a mountain pass judging by the steep hills nearby and the narrow windingness of the path ahead. 

Ravenna’s mind was still swirling as she fought to figure out where she was. The landscape was unlike anything she had seen before in the Night Court. There was something different here, something that unsettled her bones. It did not feel like Prythian, somehow.

Before she could go through what she knew of the landscape of the various other courts, voices sounded in the distance, along with hoofsteps. Ravenna stiffened, pushing herself up into a sitting position as the sound grew closer. But it did not sound like the rough, sneering voices of Hyberm. No, these voices were different. They were strong, but songlike, lilting up and down in tones unfamiliar to Ravenna. From the winding path emerged a small group of males on horseback. They donned silver armour, long hair flowing in the wind and revealing pointed ears. Ravenna’s brow furrowed. She had not seen fae like this before, but something in her gut told her they were different. Sure, they donned the same ethereal grace to them matched with pointed ears, but there was an unsettling difference between them and the fae males Ravenna had previously encountered. They did not have a predatory feel to them like most fae males, but seemed colder. Calculating.

And nonetheless, terrifying. 

A male with long blonde hair shouted something and charged his horse forward, icy blue eyes fixated on Ravenna as his group followed. She could barely move her aching body, merely slumping in defeat as the horses surrounded her in a perfect circle, a various assortment of blades and arrows pointed at her. On instinct, Ravenna lifted her wings to shoot herself up into the sky away from the males, but with the incision made she could barely lift them off the ground.

Once again, she was defenceless.

A male with black hair and cold, grey eyes barked something at her in that unfamiliar language. Squinting against the bright sun, Ravenna looked up to meet his stare. He and the blonde male were the only ones without helms and armour – the leaders, she presumed. An eight-pointed star marked the centre of their embroidered white tunics, and red capes flowed behind them in the wind.

When she didn’t answer, the black-haired male repeated his question, angrier this time.

“I’m sorry…” She muttered, barely getting the words out due to her dry throat. “I don’t understand…”

This time, it was the blonde male who spoke up. “You speak the common tongue?” He asked, his voice less harsh but still with a lethal edge to it. She nodded.

“Who are you and why are you in the pass of Aglon?” He continued, pressing his blade against her throat. She swallowed – never before had she seen such a beautiful blade, marked with swirling inscriptions and metalwork that would impress the most prestigious blacksmith in the Night Court.

Evenly, she met his blue eyes, which scanned her up and down. Distaste and surprise came across his beautiful features as he seemingly focused on the blood covering her body rather than her wings. Finally, Ravenna realised her dress had all but been torn to shreds, revealing her wounded skin in places she would have preferred to cover up. She curled herself into a ball, hands desperately trying to cover the parts of herself that had been revealed by the rips in her dress. 

But the males did not leer like she had anticipated. Even the dark-haired one who had snapped at her in that foreign language did not seem affected by her skin on display. He was more focused on her wings, which were covered in Illyria’s mud and dirt. Ravenna still trembled with fear in their presence, but at least they seemed better than Hybern thus far.

“The pass of… what?” She asked, even more confused. She had never heard of such a place before. Certainly not in Prythian. Where the hell was she and what happened?

“She’s a spy of the Dark Lord, brother.” The dark-haired male said, a hateful look in his eyes as he drew his bow. “Let us kill her and be done with it.”

“Put that away, Curufin.” The blonde one scolded with authority. “We are in Maitimo’s lands. He will decide what to do with her. Spy or not, she comes with us. He will have our heads if we kill her without his permission.”

Curufin rolled his grey eyes and retracted his bow. “As you wish, Tyelkormo.”

Ravenna’s mind reeled and the sound of the names being given, especially the last one. They were unlike anything she had heard before, leaving her even more confused. Was she dead? Was this some sort of strange afterlife? She shivered – by the way the wind bit at her cold skin, she knew she was very much alive. 

The blond one whose name Ravenna’s brain hadn’t wrapped around took note of her shiver, huffing loudly before muttering something in another tongue to one of his guards. He swung a leg off of his grey horse and slid down onto the ground, walking over to where Ravenna sat in the dirt. Part of her instincts told her to run, to back away from this ethereal, too-perfect looking male. But another part of her was lured in by his beauty, as if some strange spell surrounded him. 

She baulked as he came to stand over her, blue eyes mercilessly staring her down as if she were nothing more than a speck of dirt. The male was enormous, almost a foot taller than Cassian was. Long, silver-blonde hair flowed over his shoulders, two small braids behind each ear trailing down beside his neck. Jewellery adorned his pointed ears, which were similar in shape to her own. Based on his elaborate-looking attire this male was of a decent status wherever they were. 

The blonde male unclasped his cloak, tossing the fabric towards Ravenna. She caught it, the material soft as clouds in her hands as she wrapped it around herself, grateful for the warmth. 

But there was no warmth in the male’s eyes as he barked at her, “Get up.”

Keeping the cloak wrapped around her blood-soaked body, Ravenna pushed herself up. But her legs buckled, sending her tumbling painfully back to the ground. She hissed in pain, pressing her hand into her stomach where the wound from the arrow was. Her fae healing had kicked in enough that it began to slowly heal, but not nearly fast enough.

“Are you incapable of following orders and standing up?” He hissed angrily.

Despite her pain and exhaustion, fire lit in Ravenna’s veins at his attitude. “I’m not exactly in a position to do so without struggle.” She snapped, unfolding the cloak just enough to reveal the large, unmistakable arrow wound in her stomach. 

His blue eyes followed, assessing the wound with impatience. “You’ll live.”

“Unfortunate for you.” She shot back, temper heightened by the ache in her wings.

The male scoffed. “Do you even know who I am?”

“No.”

“I am Lord Celegorm, Prince of the Noldor and third son of Fëanor.” He stuck his chin arrogantly in the air. 

Ravenna took a deep breath to steady herself, slouching and rolling her eyes. “I must have hit my head pretty hard. I have no fucking clue what any of that means.”

Surprise crossed Celegorm’s face, and he exchanged an uneasy look with his brother. Curufin shrugged, muttering something in that strange tongue before turning his grey eyes back towards Ravenna. “And who exactly are you, may I ask?” He said dryly.

“Ravenna,” She said. “Princess of the Night Court. Daughter of Ronan, the High Lord.” She introduced herself in a similar manner to Celegorm, snorting at the confusion that continued to grow on his face.

“What are you talking about?” He snapped. “There is no such a court here, or a Lord Ronan.”

Ravenna shrugged. “Now you know how I feel, I guess. Believe me, I don’t know where the hell I am or how I got here. I am just as confused as you. I mean you no harm, I swear by the Mother.”

“That will be for Maitimo to judge.” Was all Celegorm said before reaching down for Ravenna’s trembling, weak body. She did not have time to protest or process what was happening as he reached underneath her wings and legs, lifting her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing. The world swayed as she was picked up. Thankfully, he did so in such a manner she remained covered with the cloak.

Still, she did not like being manhandled. “Put me down!” Ravenna hissed furiously, writhing as best she could in his grip. But it was no use – between her weakness, lack of powers, and Celegorm’s sheer size and strength, it was pointless.

Celegorm lifted her onto his horse and set her on the front end of the saddle before climbing up behind her. She winced in pain as his large frame brushed against the incision on her wings. “Watch the wings.” She snapped.

“We are taking you to our eldest brother.” Celegorm said, ignoring her protest but leaning back ever so slightly and relieving the contact on her wings. “He can decide what to do with you. It is half a day’s journey from here, so I suggest you rest while you still can.”

All Ravenna could do was sigh and hold onto the horse’s mane as the prince sent the group forward up the winding mountain pass. She had come no closer to figuring out where she was, or who these strange fae-looking people were.

And she had half a day to do her best to figure it out.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @decadentpostnacho @

[thatmadshifter11]

Feyre: So how do you know when your sister has arrived? She just pops up out of nowhere sometimes.

Cass:*Walks past covered in red glitter and grumbles* She's done it again call Amren before I take the glitter and shove it down her throat.

Rhys:*Sighs* That's how.

Narcissa(OC):*Walks in smiling shaking glitter off of her wings* Heyy guyss.

Cass:*Pounces for her*

Cass and Narcissa:*Rolling around on the ground a blur of wings, red glitter and weapons*

Narcissa: Fucking Illyrian babies! *bites Cass's ankle*

Feyre and Rhysand: *Walk away slowly*

[starrbirrd]

Rhysand's sister is named, as you all well know from some of my snippets, Rhaenys (didn't know until after the fact that it was from GOT 😔) and his father is Rhadamanthus just because I like the idea of the Rh being a royal family theme. I also played with the idea of her being named Sidra because of the Sidra River, since in my head his mother is named Velaris and his father renamed the city for her, which is something I talked about Rhysand echoing with buying Feyre all those fancy houses and stuff. Grand but empty gestures for women who came from poor backgrounds and would in theory be disgusted by the excess amount of riches they now possess.

I think I'd name Mor's sister Brighid(Brigid?) also to keep up with the theme since Mor is apparently(?) named after an Irish goddess. I also think it would be ironic and funny to have Mor, named after a goddess associated with "war and fate, especially with foretelling doom, death, or victory in battle." be the dreamer that made it out of the CON while the sister that is assumed to be just as bad as their father and left to rot down there is named after a goddess associated with "wisdom, poetry, healing, protection, smithing and domesticated animals." Keir is also a Gaelic name and like most of the women who aren't the MC of the series, Mor's mother doesn't have a name. I like to think she's from a different region and got sold off ages ago so she's spent more of her life in the CON than her original court.

Cassian's name means "void, hollow" which I think is very telling considering his mother got pregnant through sexual assault. His sister, I think, would be his half sister. Same father, but the legitimate daughter of the warrior and whoever his wife was. She'd have a name like Laetitia, meaning "happy" and "prosperous". A stark contrast to Cassian's name since they'd have exceedingly different circumstances surrounding their births. However, while it can be inferred from the story that Cassian's mother at the very least grew to love him, being a legitimate daughter wouldn't save Laetitia from the fate of every Illyrian woman and she would only be given such a lofty name because a daughter is only as good as the amount of money/status they can make off of her. When Cassian goes on his rampage in the village and slaughters almost everyone, including their father, I think he also slaughters her mother (if you go to his mother's wiki, it says he slaughtered everyone save for the innocent, children, elderly, and some females.) and any siblings they have, which also plays into her name since Laetitia can mean "lucky" as well. Is she lucky to escape her fate even though it cost her entire village and almost everyone she knew?

[chunkypossum]

WIP Wednesday

UNEDITED so like ... don't look at me while you read it... but I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere with their personalities so it is exciting and even though it will probably change a lot, i'm sharing anyway. Also, don't get attached to OC's name... I keep changing it. He will probably get 15 new names before I settle on one. A little snippet from my WIP Half in the Shadows, which is a like a what if spin off of Kerosene.

Making them go through one more trial before their HEA (Azriel x Eris) while also partially passing on the story to the next-gen (Nyx x OC)

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The weight of them was oppressing, by design of course, even on the outskirts, the magic pressed onto his skin like it was trying to push him away. Despite the relentless pressure, Ree didn’t move. He stayed cradled in the lightly dappled darkness, cataloging the sounds and waited. It was quiet, always so deathly quiet here but, as if brought to him via the shadows around him, Ree could detect even what others of his kind couldn’t.   Leaves crunched under tiny hooves to his right. Not the old sodden leaves from the well worn path he had come from, but the dry crunch of the newly fallen leaves near the border that he was just a step or two away from. In fact, there was a riot of movement all around him from creatures and beasts alike both dangerous and harmless. Just beyond the veil of the mist a whole new set of creatures loomed. He could almost make out their eyes watching him from the other side, almost taste their scents on the light breeze. None of them were the one he was waiting on.  There. Ree’s ears twitched as a new sound filled them. Giant paws, thudding softly on damp ground, avoiding every stick, every dried leaf. What they could not avoid was Ree’s attention. He caught the sound of them almost too late though, lost in his cataloging, as he tended to do. The anxiety from the bait he used to lure the creature out was palpable, Ree smiled, trying hard not to roll his eyes. If he didn’t act soon, his friend would blow their cover, then they would be in real trouble, but it wasn’t time… just a little closer.  Padded steps seemed to slow as they grew nearer and nearer to their prey. A steady heartbeat began speeding up and the taste of salt from sweat beaded in the air. Ree’s senses were on fire and he was nearly lost to the euphoria of it which threatened to upend his plan entirely.  Any. Time. Now.  Those three words, though in his head, sounded as if they were spoken through grit teeth. Ree shook his head and smiled, digging his toes into the dirt, as he waited.  Shhh. He replied back. He'll sense you faster that way.  Ree didn't have to see it to feel a giant eye roll directed straight at him. He narrowed his focus until only the sound of his breathing filled his ears.  One… two… the faint gristle of the dirt twisting under his toes gave him away and the beast’s ears perked up and twisted his way. Now or never.  “Three!” Ree yelled as he sprint off into the barrier between his world and the next. In a fit of fury, teeth and claws twisted his way and made straight for him. Ree’s smile widened. The beast was to his right, running at him with a speed that nearly outmatched his own, nearly.  Footfalls, wrapped in soft leather, ran parallel to his own and the beast let out a snarl that let them know he is fully aware of the way they played him, letting it serve as a warning that it wouldn’t happen again.  Ree wanted to laugh because of course it would work again. It worked every time. As if to prove his point, Ree slowed, turning this way and that through the earth bound cloud, giving his counterpart time to catch up and reach the other side before the beast wizened up as realized that the other would make for much easier catching. He was fast, just not as fast as Ree. No one was. It wasn’t bragging if it was true, and it didn’t count as prideful if he didn’t say it out loud. Just as the swish of claws swiping in the air grazed against his ankle, Ree reached the other side of the barrier, breaching it just in time.  He flew straight into outstretched arms that were waiting for him. A buffer from the speed of his mad dash. Ree hit the hard muscled chest of his best friend and wings wrapped around them both tightly as the momentum sent them careening back into the soft mossy flesh of the earth. Nyx let out a pained grunt as the air was forced from his lungs and Ree fell on top of him, laughing.  “Fucking. Show off.” Nyx growled

Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train : @talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @pathfinderofnight @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee

[agoldenluckycat]

Lucien x Reader x Tamlin

Okay this got away from me. I literally just started writing this as a shit post, complaining about the lack of Lucien x Reader x Tamlin content and well then I made a whole smut thing. So here it is for your enjoyment. It’s not proofread because like I said, I wrote this in one sitting like I had to get it out, I’m not even sure it’s any good. Anyway I hope you like it, cuz I do lol I am going to write this all out as like a legit story at some point because it won’t leave my brain but here’s like a rough outline I guess with the fun smut part lol

Lucien x Reader x Tamlin, Lucien x Tamlin, Tamlin x reader, Lucien x reader. Calanmai event, afab reader, reader uses she/her, female sex organs, dirt talk, poly, threesomes. 🔞MINORS DNI🔞

I hate the fact that there are so few Lucien x reader x Tamlin fics. Like I know we all hate Tamlin, and I am not a Tamlin defender, but the blonde bitch has potential. And you KNOW he and Lucien “shared a woman” or just straight up fucked each other, like cmon you don’t live that many years together without fucking at some point.

I mean imagine there was a maid/neighbor/friend in the Archeron house (maid would be after Tamlin had made them rich again) who Feyre spoke to Ianthe about like she was a sister, someone who was close to them and Ianthe mistook her as a sister and had Hybern plop her into the cauldron too!

And what if SUPRISE! She was Lucien’s mate (Elain was Azriel’s and they could be happy together whatever) and she was so excited about it. Was so into him!!! And she has the ability to heal! The Cauldron gave her a gift too.

And eventually Rhysand hires her as the Night Courts head healer or whatever. He trusts her, Feyre loves her already and she is living the bliss life with her mate, Lucien.

Then Rhysand comes back from his monthly Tam Tam visit and is like “if we are gonna win this war we need the spring court to get back on its feet”

No one wants to go over there, I mean who would? But she volunteers. Lucien knows Tamlin, knows how the Spring Court runs and she doesn’t have much trauma with Tamlin (aside from the selling them out to Hybern but by Rhysands description of him, it seems like he gets his boo boo and is hella depressed about it)

Naturally Lucien is like, babe, I love you and I’ll follow you anywhere but wtf? And she is like it’s getting fucking crowded in here and I wanna do something important in this world. So they go to help rebuild the Spring Court.

It’s a mess, lots of manual labor, Tamlin is always in his beast form and rarely speaks to them at first, plus he seems annoyed they’re fucking all over his court.

They finally get everything to a somewhat presentable and manageable place. Tamlin sees his home and the work they both have put in, especially her, and something in him changes.

It all changes totally when one night she gets attacked by a Naga, somehow, idk use your imagination, and Lucien is running towards her but he knows he won’t get there in time. She’s been learning to defend herself but she’s not nearly ready enough for this.

In the last moment suddenly beast Tamlin comes outta no where and kills the Naga, then hovers over her protectively Beauty and the Beast style until Lucien can get to her. There is a moment of thanks and understanding between the three of them and from then on they all seem a bit closer.

They are spending the hours together, all three of them, Lucien remarks to her one night as she lay in his arms that it feels like old times between he and Tamlin. That makes her happy. Her husband (yes they got married at some point idk when) confesses then that he and Tamlin had a VERY CLOSE relationship and the idea intrigues her but she simply lets her husband talk of it what he wants and she doesn’t make anymore comment than necessary. They spend the next few months helping Tamlin come to terms with a lot of what has happened. Turns out she’s not just good at healing physical wounds but can give others the tools to heal their emotional ones.

Soon Tamlin is laughing with them, helping them, he’s finally falling back into his role as High Lord of the Spring Court. Then there is talk of bringing the Calanmai back. The people who have returned to the Spring Court now that it’s back up and doing better want it and if the Spring Court wants tithes they need to offer it.

Lucien’s solution is to be the stand in for Tamlin as he knows his soul will call to his mate. She bites her lip at the idea of her husband filled with this magic making him even more ravenous in bed than he already is. However, Tamlin states he is high lord, he should show his people strength and decides he wants to do it.

When the night comes though, she and her husband are drunk on wine, his hands up roaming her body when Tamlin finds them. She sees the way his eyes look at her and then at Lucien and she knows instantly. It takes her husband a moment to realize, he catches on for Tamlin’s desire for her first and his protectiveness flares. It’s only when he notices the desire for him as well that he understands. He looks to her and she nods her approval.

A heady pleasure fills her and the next thing she knows, she’s being carried by Tamlin into the cave, her husband following behind them. As soon as she is laid on the soft mat, the two Fae men are hovering over her, kissing her body and tearing at her soft red, practically see thru dress. They stop for only a moment and spread her legs, Tamlin slips one finger in her and Lucien does the same. They’ve done this together before, she thinks as they move their fingers inside of her wet heat in tandem. Then Tamlin grabs Lucien’s face, their lips collide and his tongue is diving into his mouth. She nearly comes then and there from the sight of the two men fingering her and making out with one another.

Eventually they’re all three naked and she is flipped over on her hands and knees. Her husband’s cock slips past her lips and she begins to suck. She laves her tongue along the familiar vein on the underside and let’s the drool fall from her lips. Just like he likes it.

Then she feels Tamlin, he’s behind her now, his hands grasp her hips, hard and he slides into her, clearly trying not to hurt her but also trying to keep his desire in check and he begins to pump into her.

“You don’t have to be gentle Tam, she likes it rough” Lucien purrs as he grabs her hair and begins to fuck himself on her mouth. As though his words were all he needed, Tamlin starts a brutal pace, slamming into her over and over, his fingers toying with her clit as he does.

The pleasure is mind numbing. Her husband is praising her, calling her a good girl, talking about how well she takes them. Then he calls to Tamlin “she feels amazing doesn’t she?”

“I’ve never had a pussy as delicious” Tamlin purrs as he watches his cock slide in and out of her “no wonder you moan so loudly every night”

The two men chuckle and slick pours from her. Lucien knows she loves praise, knows how much it gets her going and he’s egging Tamlin on.

“Fuck…you’re such a good girl…I love how you look with my cock around your lips….ah…whatever you want from me my love you can have it” Lucien moans out to her as his cock hits the back of her throat.

She knows him well though, knows how to get him there and soon he’s cumming in her mouth. His hips stutter and his hand in her hair twitches. As the cum fills her mouth she swallows it down. He falls onto his haunches in relief but his erection has not gone down.

Tamlin takes the opportunity and flips her over on her back and then re-enters her. “Finally I can see that fucked out face of yours and these beautiful breasts” he says as he grabs a handful of her breasts and massages them.

He’s been edging her the whole night and she’s a blubbering mess. Moaning out like an animal in heat. However things come to a whole new level as she watches her husband come up behind Tamlin and force him down on his hands. Tamlin’s pace slows till he stops, still inside of her as he lifts her hips to follow him as he presents his ass to Lucien.

She watches in awe as her husband sides into Tamlin and the two men groan in pleasure. Tamlin sits up his back to Lucien’s chest and they kiss, tongues tangling as Lucien begins to move his hips. In turn Tamlin’s hips move into her. Then Tamlin returns his attention to her breasts as he wraps his lips around one and Lucien’s hand comes around Tamlin’s shoulder to grasp the other.

Tamlin had picked up his pace in fucking her as Lucien fucks him. She doesn’t last long though and comes hard, screaming. Tamlin continues to fuck her through her orgasm and the sensitivity. Lucien’s hips are working in time as well.

Then Tamlin captures her lips and kisses her like he kissed Lucien. His tongue chases after hers and she hears Lucien moan at the sight and feels him start fucking into Tamlin harder. They both cum not long after that, Tamlin’s seed leaks out of her and Lucien’s out of him but they’re back at it again not a few moments later.

They keep like this for hours. She peaks so many times she looses track. Eventually she passes out, tucked between the two Fae men. Her back pressed against Lucien’s tucked into him like always and Tamlin’s head resting under her chin, his body pressed against her front and arms wrapped around her waist.

She wakes in she and Lucien’s bed with the two men. She starts to move but stops, her whole body is sore and tense. It seems in her waking she woke Lucien as well.

He kisses her head “good morning my love”

“Good morning, my mate” she hums happily.

She looks down at the blonde man resting between her breasts and then to her mate. “Can we keep him, Lu?”

He chuckles at her words and nods “if he wishes to be kept yes.” Lucien then tightens his grip on her nuzzling into her hair “He chose us last night because we are the only ones he truly trusts. I do not want us to do anything to break that trust.”

She nodded at his words knowing their true meaning “then it will be his choice”

Lucien hummed in agreement.

“I’d like to be kept”

The voice startled her and she looked down to see an awake Tamlin. “I want to be kept by you both” he said nuzzling between her breasts and pressing his body against hers.

“Then it’s settled” Lucien smiled “we will need to set some ground rules, boundaries and such, she is my mate so there will be a nature inclination for her to favor me and me, her but…”

“I think we will be very happy together” she smiled, like she’s just won the greatest prize and kissed the top of Tamlin’s head, then turned to kiss Lucien deeply.

They sat in bed like that for a bit, hands wandering, caressing and giving soft kisses.

“I think our goddess needs a hot bath” Lucien finally said “you’re probably very sore”

She giggled “happy but yes, very sore”

“Well that will not do.” Tamlin smiled as he kissed her neck. “I’ll go make you a bath, Lucien can carry you to it.”

“I’ll carry you anywhere you want, my love” Lucien whispered in her ear and then bit down on the top.

“Lu, be gentle” she all but moaned.

“Yes my lady” he smiled and kissed where he’d bitten.

“let’s get you in that bath” Tamlin said as he stood and made his way to the bathroom.

“Only if you both join me” she smirked.

“As you wish” Tamlin chuckled and Lucien pulled her in for a tight hug.

Yes, she would be very happy.

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Two

☁︎ notes: so much tea drinking in this chapter?? my bad

☁︎ warnings: descriptions of wounds and blood, talk of physical abuse, implied domestic violence

☁︎ word count: 1.9k

☁︎ AO3 Link // Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @mybestfriendmademe @teddyhoneybear @cauldronblssd @imma-too-many-fandoms @tele86

Eris barely remembered the night before. He did not remember the questions his father had asked or the nonsense he’d given as answers. He knew in his gut that the truth remained tucked away and that’s all that mattered. 

He did recall his mother hurrying away, though the image was blurry from the pain. He thought he remembered an angel, kneeling by his bedside and blessing him with a touch to his brow. But of course, that was delirium from the blood loss. Every snap of his father’s whip, however, echoed through his memory in a loop.

He woke once in the night, head pounding as he surveyed the room. The moonlight revealed his mother’s sleeping form on the couch by the fire. On the floor beside his bed, another figure slept curled up with a throw pillow. Maybe two figures? It was hard to tell, their outline bulky beneath the quilt. He had a vague understanding that he should be dead, or at least in a great deal of pain. But the bedding felt real enough beneath his hands, the ache in his head like an anchor.

He did not have a chance to wonder about it any further before sleep pulled him away again. He dreamt of the angel and her lovely voice, deep and smooth, easing his pain. 

Worry not , she had said. So Eris slept deep and easy. 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

When Eris woke he braced for the full impact of his injury to envelope him, but it never arrived. There was a dull ache throughout his body, but nothing compared to what he felt the night before. He found that he could sit up and move and even stretch with no resistance. 

He flicked on the fae lights and twisted in the mirror, examining his back. There were large, pink scars still tender to the touch. And he was clean, not a hint of the ocean of blood that had threatened to swallow him in his bed. 

That was how his mother found him, staring at his back with confusion and frustration written across his features. She let out a silent sigh as she set down the tea tray, preparing for his interrogation. 

“Someone else was here,” He said. Or rather, demanded, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. 

“Yes. The healer I hired.” She did not look at him, focused on spooning tea leaves into the sieve. 

“Beron forbade it.” His tone was sharp. 

“He will not know. He was called away this morning and you leave for the Spring Court this afternoon.” 

Here she was, pulling strings again. He would always admire her cleverness and always dread the consequences. She was constantly doing favors just so she would be owed one in return. It was the oldest Fae trick in the book and the only way she could gain footing in this court. 

Most of the court and its people would follow her over Beron in a heartbeat. But his reach was wide and his eyes all-seeing. Not to mention his punishments, always cruel and disturbingly creative. Thus, these games of bargains and favors remained. Whispered in dark halls and midnight meetings. Sometimes outside the borders of the court. So far, she had managed not to be caught. Beron underestimated her and one day it would be her salvation and the last nail in his coffin. 

“You hired a secret healer?” 

“And swore her to secrecy, yes,” It was an idea she’d toyed with for a while, but Eris had always asked her not to do it. It was not worth it, to risk some healer’s life on his sorry behalf. 

“Did you tell her the nature of the job?” 

Edana pursed her lips, quiet as she placed sugar cubes into cups. He sat down slowly, releasing a long sigh as he went. 

“The risks, mother,” He said, weariness making it sound more thorny than he meant. 

“Do not scold me, son,” Her tone was firm but her voice shook. She looked at him, russet eyes gleaming. “You would have died last night if she had not been there. I have said it before and I will say it as many times as it takes for this court to hear me. I will not lose another son.” 

Her lips trembled as she let her body crumple into a chair. Eris stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her ruddy hair. Two sides of the same coin, they were. Too soft for Beron’s preferred shade of games, too stubborn not to play their own. 

The purple smudges under her eyes were so pronounced Eris wondered if she’d slept at all. If she’d truly slept in years. 

“Why now?” He asked, his voice soft. An uneasiness grew in the pit of his stomach. Edana took a moment to answer, her eyes troubled and distant as she warred with something that Eris couldn’t see. 

“Things are brewing, Eris,” She said, “Not just in your father’s court, but in Prythian. I needed to ease my mind. To have one less things to worry about.” 

He didn’t bother asking what she alluded to. She would have told him already if she were able to. Whether it be Beron or some other higher power, she stayed vague for a reason. It did nothing for that sense of unease.

“Thesan has requested to speak with me,” Edana sighed, sounding a little more like herself again, “I assume I will be receiving a scolding from him as well.” 

“No more scolding from me,” Eris sat back down and pulled a cup of tea towards himself, “You know what you’re doing. I just don't want to see you hurt.”

She gave him a small smile and took a sip from her own cup. 

“You’re a force to be reckoned with, mother. One day you will get your justice.” 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

Lady Edana sat across from Thesan, tea and pastries arranged on lace runners between them. The table sat on a balcony, so similar to where she had met with Aya. Fluffy clouds floated past the stone pillars, the arches between them like picture frames housing masterful paintings. 

Edana did not care for the Dawn Court. Everything here was too farefree, threatening to float away with the lightest touch. She preferred to be on solid ground, back in her own court with its scents of humus and ripe apples. 

“Edana,” Thesan began. His eyes avoided hers, as if her opinion would be read clearly within the amber. 

Edana said nothing, anger ebbing and flowing through her like the tide. One moment she had herself worked up, convinced that everyone around her was trying to prove that she was nothing but a fool, a paranoid little housewife. Then she would remind herself that those ideas were Beron’s creation, her anxiety his design. And she calmed, letting all of those feelings flow away until the cycle began again.

“I understand your machinations,” He said, “I know their importance, and I will contribute where I can. But you cannot draw my loved ones into this game. Especially without consulting me.” 

“Loved ones?” Edana asked, meeting his gaze as she took a sip of her tea.

“Aya is my cousin, Edana,” Thesan sighed. 

“Is there a reason you kept her hidden?” 

“She is not hidden. The Dawn Court knows her. But she has always insisted on earning her own living. She wants her success to be her own.” 

“I see,” Edana said, though her expression suggested that she did not see.

“I have a feeling that you elected to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.” He continued. 

Edana tossed her head, but she did not disagree. That was exactly what she had done. Though she had to admit that the fact of Aya and Thesan being related made her decision look much bolder. She had never meant to make a statement. 

“I suggest you do not make a habit of it,” Thesan’s voice rumbled through the balcony. 

Some considered Thesan to be the weakest of the High Lords. Even Tarquin, young and experienced as he may be, could move oceans with his power. But to hear Thesan speak this way painted a different image. Like he possessed some hidden blade within him that was as sharp as he was gentle. Like perhaps, the other courts would be grateful that he stayed close to his palace in this sky. 

Edana finally accepted that perhaps her plans had been rash. Maybe she had underestimated how easily Thesan would forgive her. The clouds floating by the balcony grew dark with the threat of a storm. 

“I cannot break the bargain,” She said, eyes on the table before her. She studied the crumbs of her macaron, pastel purple and flavored with lavender. 

“No,” Said Thesan, a growl full of warning, “But if you misstep, I will have Helion dismantle it.

“I did it for Eris,” Edana choked out, looking up at him. The lovely brown of his eyes was so soft compared to the command in his voice.

“Then he will help protect her. Or he will need more than one healer.” 

“Beron will not touch her.” 

“Do not make promises you cannot keep.” 

They were quiet for a long moment. Then the clouds lightened again, all of the tension gone from the sky. Thesan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. 

“I did not call you here to scold you,” He said, and Edana thought bitterly that it was a little late for that sentiment. 

“I wish to warn you.” 

She took another sip of her tea and wondered if this was merely a bridge to another lecture about her schemes and manipulations. As if she was a reckless child with no self control, and not a woman trapped in the underground halls of the Autumn Court. They all gave her sympathy, but if they would not help her with their actions then their words meant nothing. She prepared to tell him off. 

“I wish to warn you about Aya,” His eyes narrowed at Edana’s refusal to answer. But he had her attention now. She pursed her lips and locked eyes with him. “There are facets to her power she has not yet discovered. She could rival the best of us one day.” 

“And you have not told her this?” Edana’s brows furrowed, “You do not wish for her to control it?”

“Not all of us fancy ourselves puppet masters,” Thesan said tightly, “I was hoping it would be her own discovery. She’s so unsure of herself.”

Edana stared for a moment longer. It had crossed her mind, the depth of Aya’s power. The ease with which she manipulated Eris’s wounds. Her skill was greater than any other healer Edana had met.

“And I suppose you will not tell me any more about her?” 

“It is not my story to tell.” 

Edana’s nerves were feeling a bit frayed. A scolding, a threat, and now a warning. 

“Are we done here, Thesan?” She sighed and dropped the napkin from her lap onto the table. 

Thesan’s eyes narrowed. No, he had hoped this conversation might last a little longer. He had more to say. But he was as tired of Edana as she was of him. 

“Yes, Edana.” 

Truthfully, she had always been this way. Paranoid, calculating. Even in her days as a young and single courtier, she gambled for scandals and drama, her ante paid in lovers. She had played these games for so long now, her entire world was tinted. Perhaps the right person could have encouraged her to hone that energy. But Beron brought out the worst in everyone. 

Some thought her sons inherited their cunning from their father, but it was all their mother’s. All of their scheming they learned from her. Beron was as dense as he was cruel. 

Thesan watched the Lady leave, her burgundy skirts swishing over the stone floor. Lady of Autumn, Queen of games, mother of foxes.

[queen-of-midnights]

Bridget Archeron

"Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind"

Bridget was a simple woman of many interests, such as reading, music, drawing and writing. The youngest Archeron sister seemed to have no other prospects in life than enjoying the fine arts the world had to offer, disregarding the notion of marriage out the window, not because she had no desire for romance, but due to not finding 'the one' for her. That was until she was unceremoniously dumped into the Cauldron and forced to live as Fae for eternity.

Some additional curiosities about her:

Favorite sister: Nesta

Favorite color: Forest Green, but has a weakness to pastels also

Some songs that may describe her character partially:

Willow- Taylor Swift

Did you know that there's a tunnel under Ocean Blvd- Lana Del Rey

Sweet- Cigarettes after Sex

Mariners Apartment Complex- Lana Del Rey

Favorite inner circle member: Cassian

[witchysquirrel]

Epiphany: healer!OC x Cassian

Chapter One

The air felt dead and empty as Ravenna inhaled, eyes squeezed shut, the cold wind that roiled around her tinged with the scent of blood and smoke. A horrific scream in the distance brought her back to the field on which she stood, eyes snapping open in response. The battle had ended only moments ago, after days of chaos and terror and more death than she had seen in 300 years as a healer. Adrenaline took over once more as she carried herself to the nearest mass of gore to look for survivors. 

Limbs stuck out at awkward angles, faces towards the sky with frozen, gaping mouths. A wing stuck up from one pile, covered by the six bodies it had taken to make the killing blow. An Illyrian wing, Ravenna realized as she approached, pace increasing. The panic that rushed through her then could only be described as white and hot as she dug through the other Fae bodies to get to the winged one - hoping, praying it was not someone she knew. She sighed in relief as an unfamiliar face stared back at her. She exhaled, closing the Illyrians eyes to rest and whispering the blessing she always said before the dead. It squeezed at her heart; although she did not know him, someone did. 

You’re needed back at the camp. Hurry. 

The voice of the High Lord in her head made Ravenna shudder, the urgency in his tone unsettling at the very least. She stood up straight, looking down at hands caked with blood and dirt that looked nothing like her own, and wiped them down her black cargo pants which made little difference. She took a deep breath, mustering up the bit of power she had reserved and winnowed, moving through time and space and blackness, appearing at the makeshift medic tent they had set up only days ago. The wounded were everywhere, some on the ground being tended to by other healers, many more sitting expressionless, bandages already covering their quicker healing wounds. 

Ravenna made her way into the tent, pushing through the burlap “door” and weaving between healers and warriors and wounded. At last she glimpsed a crop of blue black hair above the crowd, and shoved her way through the chaos until she’d made it to the back of the tent. Her breath caught in her chest, panic rising as she took in the scene before her.

Madja and another healer were buzzing around a makeshift cot with purpose, pure power flying in leaps and tendrils, left and right. Ravenna’s eyes shifted to Rhysand, standing nearby covered in gore, and looking like he might collapse at any second. He was held upright by Azriel, who stood next to him solemnly, a sliver of emotion in his eyes that she couldn’t quite grasp. Ravenna finally mustered up the courage to drag her gaze back to the makeshift cot, to force herself to see who it was being treated on the table in front of her. 

Cassian lay on his stomach, wings skyward, head resting to the side. Ravenna let her eyes pause there, just for one moment, ensuring she saw his chest rise and fall. His membranous wings were entirely shredded; as if they had been completely sliced through over and over again, a mass of mangled flesh and blood. The panic she’d just felt rose in her throat a second time, stinging like bile.

“We need to stop the bleeding,” Madja said under her breath, eyebrows furrowed as she held pressure to a large gash in the webbing of the left wing. Luca, the other healer, held his hands over the opposite wing, a warm, yellow light flowing from them steadily. He looked concerned, as if he wasn’t sure any of it would work. Ravenna’s hands had begun their familiar tingle, fingertips pulsating with every hammer of her heart in her chest. Power had begun to leak out of her palms in the form of a soft, blue light.

“Ravenna. We need your help,” Madja said, softly but urgently, as the healer still hadn’t moved from where she stood a few feet from the cot. Madja’s voice snapped her back into the present, and she forced herself to choke down the dread she felt, quickly reaching them. Ravenna let her hands hover gently over Cassian’s wings, eyes closed again, praying to the gods and The Mother that he would be able to fly again. That he would survive. In the window of her mind, she heaved and pulled at the sparkling purple-blue rope that was her power, willing it to course and flow through her, out of her hands and over the mangled flesh below. She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled slowly out of her mouth as the skin of Cassian’s wings fought frantically to find where it had been before, her power struggling to close the wounds that continued to bleed.

Ravenna thought about her friend, Cassian, whom she’d known for so many years. She’d been born in Velaris, lived there until she was thirteen. When her parents had learned of the true extent of her powers, they’d made an arrangement with a skilled healer in the Dawn Court and Ravenna was moved there to start her apprenticeship. The elder Fae, Celia, taught Ravenna everything she had known, and Ravenna learned it with diligence, channeling her power delicately and deftly until she’d become a skilled healer. When she’d turned twenty-three, she’d taken a position as a healer for the army of the Night Court and returned to Velaris once more. 

Ravenna and Cassian had first met when the War started. She’d been twenty-five, shy in her immense power still, and had received her first real war-time assignment. Cassian had been a foot soldier when they met, they’d been assigned to the same battalion. Cassian must’ve been twenty-eight at the time, a warrior in his prime who should have been commanding a legion of his own. He was the most powerful warrior she’d ever met and ever would meet, although he was arrogant at times. At least, Ravenna thought, it was his arrogance that got him injured so often, taking hits that others might not have survived.  Though his body healed most injuries, there were many that still required assistance, and more often than not, it had been Ravenna who’d been there to tend to them. They’d become fast friends, exchanging stories of their lives before the War while she bandaged his wounds. Ravenna had come to feel like she knew Cassian’s friends, although the closest she’d been at the time was occasional glimpses of them on battlefields over those years. She had always helped him check the lists that went around of the fallen, making sure their names were absent.

When the War ended, Ravenna and Cassian returned to Velaris. She’d quickly befriended Rhysand, Azriel, and Mor, and the five of them would go on to endure the phases that all young Fae did - of long nights at Rita’s partying, drinking, one night stands, the feelings of overwhelming power -  together. And then, they’d all grown up, side by side as the centuries passed and they lived more life and saw more wars to come. But it had always been the five of them. Ravenna tried to think about the version of Cassian she saw in those memories, rather than the broken form below her hands. 

Ravenna felt like she'd summoned every last bit of her power by the time the bleeding finally began to slow. She continued on nonetheless, the bleeding that was beginning to staunch only urging her forward. “I need him to wake up,” Rhys said from behind the healers. Madja and Ravenna shared a look, turning towards him. Madja’s face bunched up in concern. “I need to know exactly what happened,” Rhys offered, answering the question they did not ask their High Lord.

“Morphine,” Ravenna said plainly, gesturing to Luca who stood nearest the supply table. He handed her the small bottle, and turned to Rhys as she unscrewed it. “You do this as quickly as possible after I give him the morphine. And I might need help restraining him when he wakes up.” 

Ravenna said it more as a command than a request, hoping to save Cassian from further pain. She moved to the head of the table where Cassian’s cheek lay pressed to the side. Ravenna closed her eyes, laying a hand on Cassian’s forehead. She entered the dense forest of his mind, where his consciousness lay, grazing it lightly. When it gave way, she pulled slowly, guiding Cassian’s mind back to consciousness. She removed her hand, waiting for his eyes to open. Rather than fluttering awake, they shot open wide and wild, and she immediately put two hands on his shoulders to keep him laying flat, Rhys and Azriel immediately jumping forward and following suit. He was groaning and whimpering, wincing and contracting against the hands that held him.

“Cassian,” she said, her voice almost a whisper as she watched him struggle, beads of sweat running down his bloodied face. Ravenna got down to his eye level, Rhys and Azriel keeping him steady. “You’re going to be okay. I know it hurts, I’m going to give you something for the pain.” He nodded slightly, wincing again and squeezing his eyes shut as he stopped resisting. She used what power she had left to move the liquid from the vial in her hand into Cassian’s mouth. He swallowed, breathing heavily. A moment passed and Ravenna watched his shoulders release the tension they were holding, relaxing again. Ravenna moved to the side, letting Rhys take her place at the head of the bed. She turned away as Rhys asked Cassian to relay what had happened just as the battle ended, asking him to repeat the event that had led to this injury, what creature had caused it. Cassian poured everything out hoarsely, but she tried to block it out of her ears. She couldn’t stand to hear it. 

A few minutes later, Rhys rose again and nodded at her. She dipped her chin to him, replacing him at Cassian’s side once again. “I’m going to put you back to sleep now, so we can get you back to Velaris,” she said gently, meeting his pained hazel eyes.

“You’re always right there when I need you,” he croaked, voice cracking at the end as the corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly. 

“Stop getting hurt and maybe you’ll see less of me,” she answered, sending another wave of medicine into his mouth. He looked like he wanted to respond, but his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, until he was asleep again. Ravenna turned back to Rhys and Azriel.

“I’m not strong enough to winnow him by myself.” Cassian was at least a foot taller than her, and she was already exhausted.  

“You take Madja,” Rhys said, “Azriel and I will get him to the House of Wind.” 

“Fine, we’ll meet you there. His wings are very fragile right now, so please be careful. Maybe put him in the private library on the second floor, we’ll set it up as an infirmary,” Ravenna answered, taking one last look at Cassian as Rhys and Az lifted him and disappeared quickly, the blood pooled on the floor the only evidence anyone had been there at all. 

“Luca, you stay here. Tell Maurine that Ravenna and I must return to Velaris immediately,” Madja said softly, packing up her kit. Ravenna pursed her lips, looking around at the busy tent and hoping they had enough healers and nursemaids to manage here. Madja threw her bag over one shoulder, reaching out to grab Ravenna’s outstretched hand. She took it, and they winnowed back to Velaris in a flash of black and gray.

-

Authors note: hello and welcome, I’m Holland :) i initially posted this fic under the title A Court of Healers and Plotholes, but decided I wanted something more serious. I enjoy reading and writing as a hobby and am by no means a professional, but I am certainly having fun doing whatever the fuck I want with this story hahahah. please let me know what you think <3

-

Epiphany Masterlist

[divinemare]

Legend of a Mortal Love

┊ ➶ rhys x oc

┊ ➶ part seven

part six

Ariadne had learned long ago that dreams didn’t last forever. But leaving Velaris, it was a different kind of sadness, of disappointment. She had immersed herself in a dangerous bubble of joy and normality, and now that it was all over, her reality made her fall twice as hard.

“I don’t want to do this,” Rhiannon whispered in a sob, the chains that should’ve been with her this whole time now in the female’s shaky hands.

Ariadne smiled sadly, trying hard not to let the tears fall down her own checks. It was enough with all of the ones Rhiannon and Morrigan were spilling already.

“It’s ok,” she whispered, only managing to make her voice stable that way.

Rhiannon raised her violet gaze to her, guilt and shame turning off the usual glow in the Night Court’s daughter’ eyes.

“No, no it is not,” she shook her head, shamefully lowering it to squeeze the chains so hard her knuckles turned white.

A big hand came to rest on top of the female’s small one, Rhiannon did not look up as she sobbed and let Rhysand take the chains from her. Ariadne shifted her gaze from her crying friend to the Heir’s hard expression.

Rhysand did not let a single emotion show in his face, while he gently asked for her hand.

Ariadne did not let the tears fall, did not let her head and gaze falter as she extended both her wrists to the male.

Slowly, very painfully slowly, Rhysand put on the chains on her wrists, slowly brushing the still healing skin with his calloused fingers.

A weight so big it almost broke her heart completely sank into her as soon as she heard the click of the chains closing. Yet she still didn’t looked away from Rhysand’s violet eyes. Not until Morrigan’s arms wrapped around her, almost knocking her off if it weren’t for Rhiannon’s arms that joined the hug soon after.

Both females clang to her tightly, while she could only stand there and pray all this to be over soon.

When they finally parted, Cassian came near to give her a little pat in the shoulder.

“Until next time, little bird. Don’t stop singing, I can’t wait to hear what you come up with next,” despite the tense feelings the big Illyrian male was letting out, he managed to wink an eye at her and smiled sweetly, making Ariadne smile too and nodding her head in only response.

“Do you have it with you?” Azriel asked in a low voice when he stepped over where Cassian had been.

“Yes,” Ariadne nodded again, and the male nodded back.

“Good luck, Ariadne.”

She smiled at him with gratefulness, and at last, not standing a second more inside of that house without the possibility of breaking in tears, alongside Rhysand and Rhiannon, she excited the townhouse, saying her final goodbyes not only to the people she now would never be able to get out of her head, but to the city that would haunt her dreams like a cruel reminder of the life that couldn’t possibly be hers.

༺ ♡ ༻

The melody of her lost dreams drummed in her head as she stared at the infinite night sky of the Court of Nightmares. It was the same sky that she had stared at every night in Velaris, yet it felt so painfully different that it left an aching feeling in her chest.

“Ariadne, not again, please, get back to work!” She was snapped out of her daydreaming by Tara’s whispered voice.

“Yes, sorry,” stepping away from the window, Ariadne had no other choice but to follow her friend’s orders, knowing very well that if they didn’t finished their work, it would be her fault.

Ever since she came back, it had become difficult to follow the rhythm of her life. As if she hadn’t been living it for the past 19 years.

At end of the day they hadn’t reached their mark, so it meant they wouldn’t get their ration of food. Ariadne told Tara to go to at least get some rest while she picked up everything, and while she worked alone, she had the time and space to mumble all the melodies in her head without anyone interrupting.

“I thought working hours were over,” well, almost anyone.

This time, unlike every other time, Ariadne did not jump in surprise at the velvet silky voice behind her, nor was she surprised to find the winged male once she turned around.

“It is, I just didn’t finished the mark today and so I have nothing to rush for, so I’m picking everything up while Tara went to sleep,” she explained absentmindedly without looking up at him from her work.

“The mark?” Rhysand asked with curiosity.

Right. Of course he did not knew what happened in his own Court.

“You don’t finish the mark of the day, you don’t get your night ration of food, so, here I am,” the girl sighed, and straightened her back with a soft moan when her muscles ached.

“You haven’t eaten anything since lunch?”

“Well, they didn’t serve appetizers after lunch break, so no, I haven’t.”

Normally, Rhysand would bite the inside of his mouth to stop the smile on his face at one of her impertinent comments, yet this time there was no hint of amusement in his violet eyes when Ariadne turned to look at him surprised with all the silence, something much more darker lurked in them this time.

Uncomfortable with the new tense silence, Ariadne picked up everything she had gathered from the floor and took a deep breath, anxious for getting out of there as fast as she could.

“Well, if you excuse me, I’m dead tired, I’ll go leave this and-”

“Come with me to Illyria,” he interrupted her so abruptly Ariadne had no chance to get a grasp on his words.

She was speechless for a moment, surely she had to have heard incorrectly because there was no way he had…

“What?” She questioned the male, still stunned.

“Come with me to Illyria, Ariadne, you’ll stay with me. Then we could go back to Velaris, you would be working for me and not my father.”

A sudden rush of uncontrollable anger rushed through the tip of her toes to the tip of her head. She had received tons of improper proposals from High Fae males over the years, some taken without her consideration anyway, but this… it had to be the most shameful one so far.

The equipment in her hands fell to the floor with a loud thud, and despite the heaviness in her chains, she approached Rhysand with an accusing finger pointed at him.

“Listen, you may be the High Lord’s son, Rhysand, and I may be just a slave, but what makes you think you have the right to use me like that? What makes all of you High Fae think you have the right?!”

The male took a little step back with a face so full of confusion Ariadne almost believed him.

“Ariadne, I don’t know-”

“I’m not a toy, Rhysand, I will not be your toy!” With tears burning in her eyes, she waited for the struck, the cruel words, the promises of execution, because this time she had surely, most certainly, stepped over the line as a slave.

But none of those came.

Ariadne stared at the male with her chest falling and rising with so much force it was beginning to hurt. The tears she refused to spill burned her eyes to the point she had to shut them close for a second to send them away. Then she observed with a heavy heart how Rhysand’s face did not twist in anger but in shameful realization.

“Ariadne, I-” he tried to give a step closer to her, but she immediately gave one back.

Rhysand sighed, his head dropped down for a moment and his usually lightened up eyes were so dark they almost turned black. When he looked up at her again, a softness that shook Ariadne’s heart without explanation surprised her.

“I never had the intention to… use you, Ariadne. Not once did it even crossed my head. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression, I truly, deeply am. My proposal was not for you to be my mistress in any way, I just… I wanted to do something right, Ariadne, for once in my life, I wanted to do something right.”

She was out of words, so stunned she had to remind herself more than once to breath. Now she couldn’t take her eyes off of Rhysand’s, trying to look for something that told her that he was not being truthful, but she found nothing; on the contrary, only genuine shame tainted the beautiful eyes.

It made her feel weird, like the night in the balcony of the townhouse, or the night in the opera as well. Feelings she still couldn’t recognize flooded her chest with a pressure that was avoiding air to come in.

“Just… think about it, would you? I want you to come with me because you trust me, not because you feel obligated to.”

Ariadne didn’t had the words to answer to that, so she simply stared at the male with a stunned expression.

Rhysand, after minutes in silence, sighed and lowered his head once again. When he looked back at her, his eyes were so off that it made her want to give a step closer to him to see if that way she could catch one of the tiny stars she always saw dancing in his violet gaze. But her feet stayed planted in her place, unable to move, her mouth unable to pronounce words.

He nodded then, putting his hands in the pockets of his black pants and tucking his wings tightly behind him, a movement Ariadne had noticed when he was upset or uncertain, and walked away from her without saying anything else.

She stood there for a moment longer, weighing every single word that had been said in her mind with both a racing and a troubled heart.

༺ ♡ ༻

She hadn’t had a minute of sleep last night, her head spun all night not leaving her alone for one second. Her conversation with Rhysand replaying over and over again on her mind.

How did he do it? She asked herself at least a million times. How did he managed to make her lose her balance, to surprisingly trip on everything he did and said every single time?

She stoped looking for an answer to that question once it was obvious she was getting closer to sunrise without rest than to understanding Rhysand’s mind.

But the thing that scared her the most wasn’t how much space the male took in her head, or the fact that her chest hadn’t stoped pressing her heart with enough force she had to take deep breaths. But the fact she was actually considering his offer, and worse, than a little hidden-under-lock part of her wanted to actually trust him.

Sleep deprivation must have been fucking with her head, because when she woke up, Rhysand and his proposal was everything she could think of the entire day.

She couldn’t even concentrate in her tasks, Rhiannon had noticed it immediately when they were together in the kitchen for their “secret tea spilling session”, or so the female liked to call it.

Rhiannon had asked her what was on her mind, and Ariadne had expertly lied saying she was wondering what Rita had thought about the songs Cassian had delivered for her. Rhiannon had easily bought it, and promised she would soon visit Rita to ask her personally.

Later on that day, and by a miracle achieved with a little cheating help from Rhiannon’s powers, Ariadne finished the mark of the day, and was able to eat the insipid dinner they allowed her to eat.

Sitting at the tired, drained circle of human slaves that had been lucky enough to eat that night, Ariadne was even more attentive than ever.

Despite their horrible, meaningless lives, there were whom mastered smiles to try and keep up the rest of the group’s spirits, others whose eyes were no longer alive, and who seemed rather an empty vessel than a living being. Ariadne wondered just how many time it would take her to become that way.

Then she looked at Tara, eating right beside her. The girl would never admit it, but some nights, Ariadne could hear her praying to the Mother, crying the few tears she still had left, showing anything but the rigorous seriousness she always wore with flawless pretend.

Would Ariadne be able to leave her here? They had been together since both were captured by the High Fae and brought to the Night Court as slaves, could Ariadne leave that last part of her past live behind her?

Ariadne didn’t thought she had the courage.

“Something has been troubling you, more than usual,” Tara’s soft voice spoke slightly beside her, for only Ariadne to listen.

“It’s nothing,” the brown-haired girl shook her head and looked down at her unfinished meal, the cheese and hard-stone bread staring back at her with mocking reminder of the delicious meals she’d had a taste of in Velaris.

“I’m not stupid, Ari, I know you might think I don’t notice your meetings with Lady Rhiannon in the kitchen, or worse, how the Heir always seems to appear right where you are. Or the way you’ve changed since you left the Palace with them. What happened there? Where did you even go?”

Ariadne’s mouth dried and her gut twisted at her friend’s words. She did not answer for a really long time, didn’t even look up at Tara’s eyes because she knew very well that if she did so, Tara would read the truth from her eyes.

“I see something in your eyes every time you look at him, you know?” At those words, Ariadne did look up to the red-head, confusion lacing her face.

“What do you mean?”

“Ariadne, if you don’t accept his offer, you’ll regret it. You’ll drown here, vanish to an empty void where all those dreams that keep you always staring at the stars will be lost forever.”

Ariadne’s heart raced at an unsteady pace, her throat dried again, and she had to swallow two times to get herself to speak.

“How did you-“

“Don’t let them drown you,” but Tara did not let her finish her sentence as she stood up and walked away towards the sleeping area.

Leaving Ariadne’s head spinning with something both similar to dread and hope.

༺ ♡ ༻

Three weeks had passed since her conversation with both Tara and Rhysand. The male had gone to Illyria right after, in the company of his sister and mother. So Ariadne had had time both to miss Rhiannon, and to think throughly about the Night Court’s heir proposal.

Already neck deep in work, Ariadne tried to concentrate all her energy in her tasks, if only to make her friend’s words —and Rhysand’s—, leave her alone for a moment.

“If a male, said, invited you to spend some time at Rita’s even though he had never ever done something like that before, what would you think?” Rhiannon’s voice sounded behind her, entering the kitchen.

Ariadne could not hold back the little smile at the female’s voice, they hadn’t seen each other in almost a month, and it felt good to have the only good thing in this palace for her back.

“So, Azriel finally mastered up the courage huh,” she smiled sideways to the violet eyed female, watching from the corner of her eyes how a pink flush tinted her tanned cheeks.

“Well, I don’t know, considering Cassian and Mor will be there too, and when Rhys finds out he’ll get all dramatic and say we didn’t invite and come either way, I… oh Mother, if Rhys goes, Azriel will never do anything,” the female sat at the kitchen’s table and dropped her head in her hands.

Ariadne let out a soft laugh, she had never seen someone so smitten over someone else as Rhiannon was over Azriel, and well, Ariadne couldn’t really blame her, Azriel was not only impossibly gorgeous, but with the kindness he had shown Ariadne when they met… she couldn’t help but be rooting all the way for them.

“Relax, everything will be alright, I’m sure he’s just working up his courage little by little.”

“I really fucking hope the Mother hears you.”

Ariadne laughed again and turned around with a little shake of her head while finishing the cleaning she had been doing, but when a male voice entered the kitchen, she almost hit her head with the counter on top of it.

“I knew you’d be here, snatching sweets from Pan again?” Rhysand’s amused, velvet voice rang in her ears and traveled all the way to her stomach, making her have to inhale deeper for air.

He didn’t notice she was there, she thought, since he had yet to make any comments in her direction, so she ever so slowly turned to look at the siblings, only to find out Rhysand had already spotted her and, in fact, was looking straight at her.

He only gave her a soft smile, and that was it.

“Mum’s been looking for you,” snatching the sweet Rhiannon was about to get on her mouth and eating it himself, Rhysand gained a dark look from his sister and a pinch on the arm.

The female stood up with the grace of a princess and, before leaving the kitchen, turned back to look at Ariadne to say her goodbyes with a wink and a smile. Adiadne did the same, and when Rhiannon was gone, only Rhysand and her remained looking at each other, with the sounds of the rest of the kitchen staff seeming to stay behind as they did not looked away.

“You’re back,” she managed to say, standing off the floor and wiping off her skirt, as if that would do anything to help the dirt that completely covered it.

“Only to accompany Rhi and my mother, I’ll be back to Illyria tomorrow.”

“Oh, tomorrow?…” She had breathed the question rather than spoke it, Rhysand only nodded in confirmation, putting his hands on the pockets of his pants and… tucking in his wings.

Silence settled over them either a strange feeling, Ariadne wanted to get the words off her mouth, but her lips seemed to be under a spell of utter uselessness.

“I have to go look into some affairs before parting, I’ll leave you to your work,” with a heavy sigh, as if he too had been holding his breath, Rhysand stumbled momentarily over his own steps while turning around, but tried to act as if nothing had happened to rush out of the kitchen door.

“Rhys!…and,” Ariadne called behind him, and he turned around so quickly when he heard his nickname he again almost stumbled.

But as soon as Ariadne tried to repair her slip adding the final letters of his name, she could almost swear she saw something like disappointment flicker in his violet gaze.

“I…” Now, with his striking eyes looking at her again, she had fallen silent once more.

“If you don’t accept his offer, you’ll regret it. You’ll drown here, vanish to an empty void where all those dreams that keep you always staring at the stars will be lost forever.”

Tara’s words replayed in her mind, like they had done for the last three weeks.

What else did she had, if not for dead parents and a missing, surely dead brother. There was nothing left for her there, if there had ever been something to begin with. Just then did she realized the terrifying truth of Tara’s words; slowly, that place was drowning her, as it had with every human life that had been unfortunate enough to end up there. Her dreams, everything her father had taught her, fought for, and died for, everything would eventually be lost in the sea of darkness that would sooner or later swallow her up.

So, if her fate was already so evidently clear, what could she lose?

“Okay,” was everything she could bring herself to say with a small nod, and prayed her eyes could communicate what she wanted to Rhysand.
The male read it loud and clear, and, if Ariadne’s eyes did not fooled her, sucked in a breath of almost relieve. He was fighting back a smile, and had to shift the weight of his body in his legs to keep from moving too much.

“Okay,” he answered with another nod, and both said nothing after, only stared at each other with that intensity only they seemed to share.

And in those star-filled eyes, Ariadne could’ve sworn she had just sealed her fate.

[bloomingdarkgarden]

Dione

The Oracle of Delphine.

Walker of the Void,

Great Seer of the High Reach of the Day Court,

Wielder of Stone,

and High Mistress of the Ether.

Elain’s Trainer in the art of Divination // Visual Inspiration for Chapter 16.