#and Varian too he’s so important to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

Text

Chapter 15 (the shit will kick off in the next chapter)

‘I’m not nervous,’ Nesta hissed for the third time on their journey to the sprawling River House.

‘Your hands are slimy.’

To hammer home the point, Azriel broke free of her hold and wiped his palm down his leg.

‘I’m not nervous,’ she repeated. ‘They’re just sweating. They always sweat in February.’

‘The tragic affliction of sweaty palm February. Maybe Madja can cure it.’

No matter how many times she tried to brush it off or deny it, Nesta was nervous. She’d prolonged the work she usually ploughed through. Changed clothes three times. Threw herself on the bed with a yowl after staring at her reflection. Re-braided her coronet four times, claiming it was uneven. Azriel could practically hear the drumming of her pulse as the massive house came into view.

‘We don’t need to come here if you’re scared. It’s not important.’

‘It is,’ she reassured him. Her brows drew downwards and her mouth twisted. ‘They’re your family. We can’t just avoid them forever. I don’t want you to lose them.’

Azriel shrugged one shoulder in response. ‘I don’t care. If they don’t accept us then I’m done with them.’

‘Don’t speak so flippantly. I’m not worth you throwing everything away.’

His grip on her chin was firm, demanding her attention. Silver flames churned in her irises, a glimpse of that impossible power that lurked in her depths.

‘You are everything.’

Azriel forced Nesta to hold his stare, to let those words settle rather than her scurrying away. He could be intense, Azriel knew it was a flaw. How could he love without giving all of himself? It wasn’t love otherwise.

Nesta’s hand settled on his chest. ‘You’ll be with me?’

They ought to feel ashamed that Nesta had to bolster her courage to see them. It flamed his anger to know that they’d lay out her flaws to examine to tear holes into her. Nesta didn’t need to wear her armour with him. He wouldn’t let them get close; Azriel would cut off the hand of any who dared to raise it against her.

‘Always.’ He murmured, taking the hand from his chest to press a kiss to her fingers. ‘Always.’

Thankfully, the house was quiet. It was the best he could have hoped for. Only Rhys was home so Nesta didn’t need to walk into a busy room where all eyes would swarm her. There was wary surprise on Rhys’ face when he greeted them, but it shifted into polished hospitality when Azriel asked if they could burden them at dinner time.

It was strange and awkward like dancing blindfolded. The parlour was too quiet. Its dark green drapes were peeled back to allow the harsh February sun to filter through the tall windows. Yet the light seemed to shirk from Rhys’ presence, his magic was an unseen force that demanded attention. Rhys seemed to be treading carefully, managing his words before speaking to not ruffle any of Nesta’s feathers. It was reflected in her; she asked hesitant questions about him and his day. The small talk didn’t suit any of them, but Azriel would keep trying to build that bridge between Nesta and Rhys. It should have been built long ago; they were in-laws after all. Even if they didn’t want to face it, they were similar people too.

‘We went to the Summer Court for dinner.’

‘I did wonder why I woke to a letter from Varian enquiring why you were spying in the open.’

Az chuckled then tugged Nesta down to a couch to try and settle her nerves. He never wanted to be the centre of attention, but he’d endure it for her. ‘The shells we stole are ours. We won’t be surrendering them. Should we expect a blood ruby?’

‘A blood ruby?’

‘The Summer Court like to send a ruby to an individual who they’ve marked for death,’ Rhys explained, ‘Very civilised. But I shouldn’t think so. Unless you were spying.’

‘Not spying. Just enjoying a dinner with the sunset then a walk along the beach.’

‘What a romantic you’ve turned him into,’ Rhys teased.

‘Shame no blood ruby, it would look beautiful in a necklace for you.’

Rhys let out a wheeze. ‘Hasn’t he lavished jewellery on you yet, Nesta? Am I not paying you enough? Or are you tastes so extravagant that Azriel can’t afford them?’

He was pleased to see Nesta’s small smile. She hid it quick enough but it had been real. ‘Azriel knows exactly what I want.’

Rhys’ violet eyes passed between them both in expectation until Azriel finally let out a groan. ‘She is desperate for a cat. They leave hair everywhere.’

‘Then we’ll get a black one, it’s the only colour you wear. The hair will blend right in. I never ask you for anything.’ Nesta crossed her arms in front of her chest, all steel and flame, and in that moment, she was the formidable female who’d pointed at the king of Hybern even as she was dragged into the Cauldron.

‘You asked me to take you to Rosehall next week.’

She made a noise like she was winded. ‘To see your own mother!’

It wasn’t an easy camaraderie, but it was a beginning. Azriel had to wonder if Nesta and Rhys had ever had a conversation where they weren’t at each other’s throats. Nesta didn’t start fights, but she certainly had no qualms in finishing them. Her fingers wound around a tassel on the cushion as they spoke of developments in Illyria. Nesta listened in keenly, but there was a rigidity still in her body that never came at home. She was still uncomfortable here, cowed by Rhys’ presence. Azriel kept his hand on her thigh, attempting to soothe her.

The anxiety was only made worse by the arrival of Elain and Feyre. The sisters arrived, chatting amicably between themselves. Feyre’s hair was drawn back into a braid and dark paint was still smeared across her freckled cheek. Elain had her gardening basket dangling from the crook of her elbow, talking about crocus bulbs coming into bloom. They stopped at the sight of them gathered in the parlour. Az caught the sudden stiffness in Feyre’s shoulders. Elain dipped her head downwards, shame burning in her cheeks from the previous day’s conversation with Nesta - and Lucien as an audience member.

‘Did you run out of room on your canvas, Feyre darling?’ Rhys strode to his mate, slipping his arms around her with a familiarity that Azriel had once longed for in his own life. He brushed his thumb against the smudge of paint.

‘It’s been so long, I wondered if you’d forgotten where we lived,’ said Feyre, ice seeping into her tone as she took in Nesta’s brittle frame on the emerald couch.

Nesta’s words came swifter than Azriel’s with a viper’s smile for good measure. ‘Well, you have five houses. It can be difficult to keep track.’

The first blood had been drawn. Azriel readied his shadows to swallow them and take Nesta somewhere good. To valleys flooded with wildflowers or a quiet piece of paradise on an island near Summer. Anywhere where her sisters wouldn’t face her like opponents.

‘I need. I need to wash up,’ Elain said, brandishing her hands to them though Azriel could see no traces of mud on them. ‘It’s chilly today, isn’t it? A nice warm bath will be lovely.’

Elain turned on her heels, keeping her head up as she made for the curling oak staircase, her pale pink skirts swirling as she took the stairs two at a time.

Feyre’s eyes were glazed at a point on the wall and Rhys remained still then both of them relaxed at the same time. Feyre blinked. Her expression softened at Nesta’s fingers tangled in his own, hidden into the skirts of her pewter gown. ‘I need to scrub this paint off. You’ll stay for dinner?’

When Rhys followed his mate out of the room, he threw an encouraging smile over his shoulder as if to say they were winning round Feyre to their cause. But they shouldn’t need to win anybody to their side. There were no sides.

Nesta’s grey eyes burnt into his face. Reluctantly, Azriel faced her. She sat as a queen, straight-backed, face carefully neutral from manoeuvring her way through endless attempts at character assassination.

‘Two cats.’

‘I’ll buy you a lion if we make it through this dinner.’

She raised a single brow then her grey eyes landed on his clothing. ‘A panther so the fur matches your clothing at least.’

***

Nesta’s fingers stretched Azriel’s across the keys into position. They glided with purpose over the ridges of his scars, savouring every bank and tributary that marked him as different.

The piano had needed tuning which Nesta had done her best at and Azriel claimed it only existed as in the house as decoration as none of them knew how to play any instruments. Without sheet music, Nesta did her best to remember tunes that had been memorised in her hours of lessons.

Rather than feeling like the two outcasts while the residents of the River House hid in their rooms, Azriel had taken her to the piano – and she was not about to let him have a respite from conquering his own discomfort either. Spread over the ivory keys, his scars were on full display. It was only them in the room, she reminded him. She taught him chords; his fingers clunky at first as he switched between them. With practice, Azriel repeated them with precision as Nesta played a tune at a higher octave. It was fun to play together – especially as these were melodies her tutors taught her at the end of the lessons once her mother’s hawk-like eyes had departed to scrutinise her husband instead. They were light and jolly, unbefitting of a nice, young lady.

She was aware of eyes on them as the others returned with the smell of dinner summoning them from their rooms. Nesta kept on playing even after Azriel had surrendered his hands back to the sanctity of shadows. He stayed with her on the stool though, kissing her cheek and shoulder, trying to put her off with a teasing smirk. Her fingers flew across the keys, muscle memory flooding back to her. Music had never been easy, it had required hours of practise with Nesta having no natural talent for it, as much as she wished she did. Every good young lady ought to be able to play though, her mother had said often enough. The piano was more suitable with tutors easier to find and most homes of their associates containing one, but the harp was a sign of wealth she had claimed. It left Nesta’s fingers calloused and sore, the vast number of strings too difficult for her initially. But she was too stubborn to ever tell her mother it was too hard.

‘I remember mother and father would invite you to play for their dinner guests,’ Elain said as Nesta’s playing came to a stop.

‘It wasn’t an invitation. I was trotted out like their performing pony.’

Elain went on, ‘I’d feel so envious that you were allowed to stay up late.’

How dreamily she thought of their past, ignorant to the ways in which their mother stamped on her children to force them into the form she wanted. Elain at least did escape most of it. Their mother filled her head with pretty songs and romance as she put her in dresses like a doll while her friends cooed over how beautiful Elain was.

‘We should eat,’ Feyre said, gesturing towards the dining room, her distaste still tugging at her brow.

The wraiths had cooked enough for all of them, seemingly knowing that Rhys and Feyre would house any stray who came for dinner.

Azriel’s hand brushed against Nesta’s then his brows rose in surprise. ‘Sweaty palm February still in full swing or are they nerves?’

‘I’ll have your shadows gag you tonight.’

His breath was hot on her ear as he closed in like a wolf. ‘It is my turn to do what I want with you tonight or did you forget?’

A cold breeze swept in as the front door swung open. Mor and Cassian froze on the step. Shadows moved to obscure them from view, but the pair had seen enough intimacy already; Azriel with his body inches behind Nesta’s, lips hovering over the point of her ear with a hand on her hip as he guided them towards the dining room.

Nesta latched onto Azriel’s hand before he could reach Truth-Teller. This did not have to be a blood bath. She did not want him to cleave the bonds between his family for her.

‘Keep walking,’ she said, hauling him forwards with her despite their fumbling steps.

They took to their seats. Azriel’s worry thrummed in his veins. His eyes flickered to the two doors then to the window like a candle flame unable to steady itself. She clutched his hand beneath the table if only to calm him.

Mor made her displeasure known with a rueful shake of her head though her demeanour changed as she greeted the others with a bright, beautiful smile.

The high lord sensed the tension, but before he could intervene the door knocked.

‘Who the hell is that? Amren’s in Summer,’ Mor muttered, twisting her neck to peer around the doorway.

Never in her wildest dreams did Nesta think she’d rejoice at the sight of Lucien Vanserra striding into the room, but she did. A breath whooshed from her lungs at his appearance. They were not drawing up sides for a battle, she told herself again, but the number was even now.

Rhys dictated the conversation, steering it into the blandest topics imaginable where it seemed safest. Elain, to her credit, helped him, offering in depth reviews of trowels she’d purchased – all the while refusing to even look at Lucien for more than a moment. Nesta didn’t know how when he was the most striking male in the room. His red hair caught the faelight. Amongst the drab black outfits of the other three males, Lucien stood out for his well-tailored attire. The dark green jacket was vined with golden thread and worn over a cream shirt and fawn-coloured breeches. A thin braid drew his hair from his temple. The golden eye and scar were secondary to his impeccable fashion sense.

Despite the careful conversation, Azriel’s worry still pulsed like a bleeding wound beside her. His shadows circled like sharks. Cassian’s eyes were a brand against Nesta’s skin, searing hot demanding her attention too. She could not bring herself to look at him. The word mate bubbled on her tongue, a poison that wanted to trap her. Between the two of them, Nesta felt trapped. They were two stags whose antlers would clash before the night was out, Nesta had little doubt. She hated it. She wished they hadn’t come. It wasn’t worth the tension that grasped her lungs.

Mor made her displeasure known through actions, purposefully not passing any dishes to them despite Azriel’s polite requests, squeaking her fork across the plate, slamming her glass down. It was petty and petulant, but so delightfully Morrigan.

It felt less like a dinner and more of survival for Nesta. Each mouthful reminded her of her first days in Velaris when the food overpowered her senses, when she had to concentrate on chewing and swallowing like she was learning it for the first time.

When she finished her glass of water, Cassian’s hand enclosed around it, filling it for her in an instant. Nesta forced herself to look at him, to do the polite thing and thank him for a basic kindness. In his eyes, she saw every desperate longing now it had pushed its way to the surface. A longing for her, the bond, for his brother back. She remembered the tender way he’d cradled her face and vowed that he would find her in every life. Nesta had to look away, the memories cutting too deeply.

The dessert went down like oil, slicking the back of Nesta’s throat and unsettling her stomach. It was a relief when Azriel announced that they were leaving for the tavern. Although disdain had smothered the room like cobwebs, Nesta still wanted to broker for peace for Azriel’s benefit. This was a family he had lived alongside for five hundred years. She could afford to try a little harder. For him, she would.

‘Would anybody like to accompany us?’

The words sounded like a death knell.

‘What a nasty piece of work you are.’

Azriel stilled. Heat flared in Nesta’s cheeks at Mor’s words. She realised then it might have come across like a slap in the face to Cassian, to watch them together, but Nesta hadn’t intended as such. She opened her mouth to explain that she had only tried to offer friendship, but Azriel had stepped in front of her.

‘Morrigan, you will apologise.’

‘For what?’ Mor demanded, throwing a hand in the air. ‘For saying the truth. Did you come here just to rub it in Cassian’s face?’

A crackle of static shot through the room. Shadows slithered over the faelights, muting their glow. His cobalt siphons flared bright enough to make Nesta squint.

Nesta did not want this. Did not want Azriel turning on his family because of her, because Nesta knew it would be another thing they blamed her for.

‘I’ve cut out tongues for less,’ he said, voice so eerily quiet that it made Elain shift with discomfort. Mor had gone pale.

‘Azriel,’ Rhys said, voice seeped with command.

Rhys wouldn’t be able to talk him down, not in this mood. Azriel’s face was thunderous, a tempest battering against the seams for a release. He meant his words, that he would always defend her. Nesta only wished he didn’t have to.

‘Az, let’s go. It’s not worth this.’ She reserved calling him that name only when necessary, because it always snagged his attention hearing it from her. Despite the eyes on them, Nesta tucked her hand into is. A declaration that she did not fear his wrath. That they were united.

Without words, she pleaded with him to just let it go. It was not worth causing a war. Azriel’s lips pursed, but his shadows returned to him instead of coating the room with their darkness. Nesta had seen enough violence. His chin dipped then a tender kiss was pressed to her forehead.

‘I’ll go,’ Lucien said, rising from his chair with a genial smile. ‘It’s difficult to come by a good drink in the mortal lands – and if I can wash it down with music, even better.’

Once again, Nesta was grateful for Lucien. She owed him one hell of a Solstice present next winter. To her great surprise, Rhys drained his glass and announced he’d join them too.

‘I don’t think I’ve been to the Dragon’s Claw since I was in my twenties. I imagine the décor is the same.’

Cassian rose too, but he exited the room, exited the house. The frame shuddered as the front door was slammed. His rancour tasted of acid, cloying Nesta’s senses.

Mor’s chair clattered to the floor as she pushed away from the table.

‘This is fucking ridiculous. You should be ashamed.’

Her blonde hair swayed as she departed too.

Unperturbed, Rhys turned to Elain. ‘Would you like to see a wild night in Velaris, Elain?’

‘Oh. No, thank you. I need to wake early to tend to an elderly female’s front garden.’

‘Just the five of us, it is.’

Feyre folded her arms. ‘I have plans.’

The flash of hurt on Rhys’ face was unmissable. And Nesta hated the wedge that was driven between them just as Elain had told her was happening. It was never Nesta’s intention to cause this great divide amongst them.

***

Even the brisk wind could not cool Nesta’s cheeks on the walk to the tavern. Shame burnt in Azriel’s chest for the pitiful reception they’d received from his family. He knew it would be difficult, but that had been fucking awful. Nesta didn’t deserve it.

Lucien had offered her his arm, claiming he wanted to talk about a mortal tradition he’d come across. Azriel saw through the lie, but found he did not care. He couldn’t find the words to apologise to her for his family’s rudeness. She spoke quietly to the male, their heads dipped together walking ahead.

There was a nudge in his ribs. ‘Can I show you something?’

He gave Rhys the briefest nod. He doubted anything could brighten his mood, but at least Rhys was trying to reach out his hand to both of them.

Azriel was seeing Nesta through another’s eyes – Elain’s – in their apartment. The hurt on Nesta’s face was unbearable. Elain’s betrayal as she tried to persuade Nesta to become Cassian’s friend with the hope of accepting the bond to make things easier for the group.

‘Are you showing me this so I’ll drown myself in the Sidra?’

Rhys winked, but the memory continued pushing into Azriel’s mind, the way Nesta drew herself up full height and rooted her feet like a tree.

I am in love with Azriel. He is my partner, Elain. He is the male that I want to father my children.

Breath caught in his lungs at Nesta’s declaration.

Lucien gestured for her to enter the tavern, holding the door for her, as Nesta gave him a mock curtsey.

Azriel couldn’t speak, too overwhelmed by her words.

Rhys tipped back his head in light laughter at his loss for words then he clapped him on the back. ‘The others will come around.’

***

In any other scenario, this would have been a cause for joy for all of them. Azriel who had suffered more than any, who still struggled with his demons, happy. Rhys had never seen his brother this way before. Nesta had given him security, but it pushed him out of his comfort zone too.

Never before would Azriel have volunteered to dance, but Nesta’s foot had been bobbing the whole time the band played, her lips moving with the songs as she sang under her breath. Once others had begun dancing to the lesser fae band, Azriel had taken her hand and refused to accept her no.

It wasn’t a ballroom for romantic waltzes. It was a hot, sticky-floored tavern with little space to move. Ale sloshed out of tankards as people fought to their seats. Azriel had taken Nesta to the edge where the shadows were densest and their arms were around each other. Rhys watched her lips moving again, singing along as she gazed up at Azriel. All defences were down for both of them. The first real love for either of them.

Rhys felt through his bond and pushed against Feyre’s shields. She didn’t open them at first, still angry on Cassian’s behalf. Another stroke and promise then she reluctantly let them down.

What?

You still don’t want to join us, Feyre darling?

I’m busy.

Rhys sent what he was seeing to his mate. Nesta threading her fingers through Azriel’s hair, her still singing quietly to him, a smile curving her lip while he swayed them on the spot, leaning forwards to kiss her brow.

How can you not be happy for them?

I’m glad they’ve found joy but it’s at the expense of Cassian’s.

The heart can’t choose who it loves. We of all people should know that.

Her mental shields went back up hastily. It was difficult for Feyre to understand. She had only found goodness from their mating bond; she did not know how horribly wrong the Cauldron could make them. For all that he loved Cassian, him and Nesta would turn breakfast into a battleground. They were both all fire, all hot temper. They didn’t need someone who would fan the flames into an inferno, they needed one who could calm it. And Nesta had found that in Azriel. He knew when to push and when to back off, when to comfort and when to fight. Azriel never did anything in the heat of the moment, always managed to leash himself enough to measure his options. It was how Rhys knew that this relationship had not been a rash decision.

Since arriving to Velaris, Feyre had bonded with Mor and Cassian. It was natural for her to feel Cassian’s pain, but she saw herself in it. There were parallels to their own story with Tamlin which she didn’t want to face. Feyre didn’t know Azriel well enough. The changes now were noticeable; he looked refreshed, he smiled easier, didn’t skulk in the shadows. But Feyre had only ever known him as the quiet shadow singer.

Only Rhys and Cassian knew the boy who would keep himself awake all night by standing against a wall because nightmares had him screaming. He only slept when his body demanded he drop down and take an hour or two. Az had looked sickly, never sleeping, muddying through training with his sharp instincts and shadows keeping him alive. The boy who hated fires and could not be in the same room as them. Where Cassian had never had warmth and loved to sit as close as he could to the flames, Azriel reviled them. It had taken him a long time to even be able to light one. They had crashed a Calanmai party in their youth when citizens could pass borders in celebration of the Rite and Az had taken one look at all the bonfires and turned white.

Rhys remembered asking his mother if Azriel could even talk. For the first year that his mother brought Azriel into the house, Az was more of a spectre, never speaking, eating little. Just him and his shadows. Sometimes he’d erupt over the slightest thing, seemingly out of nowhere, his mood a sudden tempest as if a dam had been holding back the flood for long enough. Rhys had memories of him checking all the windows and doors at night time to ensure that he could unlock them, how his fingers would shake as he turned the key in case that he was locked in. Azriel had come a long, long way from the traumatised boy he had been. If Feyre knew him then, Rhys had little doubts that she’d be brought to her knees by his happiness now.

Cassian always bounced back. It was his nature to see the good in things. He was an optimist through and through. He’d always had a grin on his face fighting bigger boys, starting arguments with males double his size when he’d just been a weed. It was better to support Az and Nesta, to ride out the storm with them, knowing that Cassian would cool one day than to push them away. More than being a brother, Azriel was invaluable to the Night Court. For his skills, his shadow singer abilities, and the intel he collected. Azriel knew all the secret corners of Prythian where to lurk. And Nesta had a deep well of power that throbbed within her. Rhys could feel it when her temper flared, pushing at the sides, wanting to escape. If they pushed them away, they could lose them entirely. He had to gamble that Cassian was too loyal to ever leave no matter how much it broke his heart over what could have been.

Lucien had called for another round of drinks – and something stronger over ice in a tall glass.

‘You look as if you need that.’

Rhys tipped it back quickly without letting the taste soak onto his tongue. It was bad enough down his throat.

‘I’m trying to work out your angle, Lucien.’

‘Care to explain?’

Rhys ran a finger around the rim of his pewter tankard. ‘How does it benefit you to be here? On one hand, Nesta is Elain’s fiercest protector so winning her around would surely be beneficial to your own cause.’ Lucien observed him carefully, mechanical eye whirring as it scanned his face. ‘Then again to encourage her to sever the bond might lead to the demise of your own. I can’t work out what’s in it for you. You’ve never been a friend to Nesta or Azriel.’

Lucien linked his slender fingers together. This male was raised by Beron’s fists. He never gave anything away; he was too good at managing his emotions.

‘Not all of us spend each moment calculating how they can profit, Rhysand. Is it not enough to see two people happy after a war nearly cleaved all we loved?’

How Nesta knew all the words to every song was a mystery. The piano playing had also been a surprise. She was still singing along with the band, squeezing Az’s arms around her as shadows slithered around them, utterly at ease.

‘I was on the ship with their father, Rhysand. He had a thousand questions about his little, darling Elain. I have his approval if anything comes to be,’ he said with a bitter laugh. ‘He was delighted that Feyre had mated a wealthy high lord and was now a high lady of Prythian.’ Lucien’s eyes flicked over to Nesta. ‘Not a single question about Nesta. Not one. When I asked him if he wanted to know how Nesta was, he said that he had little doubts that she was taking care of herself.’

Azriel’s arms locked her to his chest. He’d seen Azriel’s possessiveness a handful of times with females that he’d grown fond of during their wild youth. He never wanted more than a night with a lover though. Never let them in. This was different. It was possessiveness but protection. Azriel would shield Nesta from weapons or words. He’d topple empires and turn rivers red in her honour.

She twisted in his arms to lean up and kiss his cheek. It was a display of affection that Rhys never thought he’d see from Nesta. Hell, from either of them. Especially not together.

‘Nesta needed somebody who would put her first. Who’d love her for who she was. I’m sorry that it isn’t her mate for the benefit of his own heart, but this is real and it’s easy to support.’ Lucien took a long drink of his ale. ‘There’s no agenda. Love should be celebrated.’

@chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @theleafpile @loysydark @rarephloxes @wannawriteyouabook @misteryhen

I'm imagining them dancing to this song and this one

#nesta vs the buffer #nezriel

149 notes · View notes

gayleafpool · 5 months

Note

Talk about Varian

IM ALWAYS READY TO TALK ABOUT THAT LOSER!! get ready

-> one thing i’ve been thinking SO hard about lately is the potential of a lady caine and varian friendship. imagine it. she lost her dad and varian thought he lost his which drove them to seek revenge against and grow to hate the royal family. they both get thrown in prison. and basically forgotten about. A FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN THEM WOULD BE SO FUNNY he would probably think she was soooo cool. wait imagine if they had cells near each other in prison. imagine if she saw the things he went through w andrew in prison and thought hm wow that was insane and fucked up. what if they meet again later on like post s3 and become sorta pals and feel like they can vent their lingering resentment toward royalty w each other and just like. idk talk about all the shit they went through. WHAT THEN HUH

-> related i get so emo about varian repressing his trauma and like, outwardly it seems like he got over everything that happened to him with the blizzard/amber/prison/etc etc but really it was more relief that rapunzel forgave him and was able to free quirin so it felt like everything should be FINE and it would easy to just leave everything in the past so he tries and he thinks he’s getter better and doing well but he’s really getting so much worse and refuses to address or process any of the shit he went through until it all majorly comes crashing down a while later. there are these little signs in the way he behaves like he acts weirdly reckless sometimes and will put himself in bad situations, just starts to exhibit signs of what happened to him. iykyk u know we know. and it’s so hard for him to rationalize this and accept this bc his feelings are so complicated bc he would tell himself that he deserved to be treated that way or even liked it because he was so lonely and desperate for positive attention so there’s this shame and guilt aspect that makes it 10x harder to talk about and AUGHHHHHHH. i could write an essay. this is so important to me. everyone be nice to me about this

-> okay lighter topic. something i always forget about varian is that he’s a good artist like canonically i think that’s so fun. THEREFORE: varian and rapunzel drawing/painting together. ENOUGH SAID!!!!! i love them

wait now i’m thinking more varian and rapunzel thoughts. rapunzel teaching him how to dance. rapunzel being one of the few people who’s happy to sit and listen to him ramble about chemistry n shit cuz she loves learning new things so she’s genuinely interested. they are so <3 IVE ALSO SAID BEFORE that i think varian looooves learning new languages and he’s really good at it and i think rapunzel would be too!! they just end up having lots of common interests

also i refuse to believe varian ever gets taller than her i just cant see it

-> mmfmfmfmfmf varian and ulla thoughts. the fact that they look so similar makes me crazy. i also like to imagine that his hyperactive inquisitive balls to the walls insane personality comes mostly from her too. cute but batshit 🫶🫶 also the anger issues. u know that image that’s like i inherited my mother’s anger yeah thats varian. also the idea that quirin is so protective of varian bc he feels like he couldn’t protect ulla esp when you factor in that varian is basically just a copy of her. WAUGH!!!!! i’m emo.

something something donella seeing hugo start to catch feelings for varian and being like oh so this little shit is EXACTLY like his mother. bc it reminds her of how she loved ulla but could never have her. and it makes her hate varian sooo bad. girl rein in the projection

this has been explosion hour with gayleafpool come again soon

#asks #KISSES U #ummm #mentions of abuse #abuse #<- to be safe #varian

13 notes · View notes

aladyofgoodtaste · 3 months

Text

A Court of 'It's giving beauty & the beast' and 'Except you can't tell which one is which'

Spring is rotting away. Not just its Court but across the lands as well. Without it, there can be no new beginnings, no rebirths and nature itself will cease to a halt. And thus Fates dictate that a human and a broken Fae must create a miracle together.

Tamlin thinks that the Mother is cruel for the salvation of his home requires another human’s help while Juno curses whatever entity that Isekai’ed her into this shitty ass book series.

AO3

Chapter 3: We’re getting rid of toxic masculinity with this one

1 down, 6 more to go. In the meantime, Lucien & Tamlin re-ignite their bromance

CH 1 | CH 2

The most unimaginable horror has struck within the Inner Circle of the Night Court.

Everyone who is important has gathered outside the River House's healing room, finally waiting for the doors to open. No one would admit it, but they’ve all been counting down the hours, and when they turn to days, the worst starts to sink in. Ultimately, the High Lady puts her foot down and orders them to start taking shifts. Each of them has a role to play in this Court; thus, they can’t simply abandon it.

Today marks the third day since then.

When Cassian drops by after breakfast for his shift turn, he’s surprised that almost everyone is standing guard before the door. “Any news from Madja?”

“She did the impossible,” Azriel replies against the wall. He had the night shift and, thus, was the one who called everyone to be present. “Madja somehow manages to pull Amren from the brink of death despite her… injuries. She’s now been put in an enchanted sleep to stabilise her.”

Feyre bursts into a grateful sob, to which Rhysand immediately brings her into his arms. Elain claps her hands to thank whatever deity out of there for their mercy. Prince Varian slumps hard on the couch. Mor sighs in relief though her expression is still troubled, while Cassian’s tensed shoulders are lax just a bit. It was at that moment the doors finally opened. The Night Court's most trusted and capable Healer emerges. Her ancient figure appears weary as if she’s aged another decade.

“How is Amren?” Rhysand instantly inquires.

Madja sighs, exhaustion creeps into her very bones. “Alive, for the better or worse. Your Second-in-Command’s healing magic can no longer support itself so I had to siphoned most of mine. I did whatever I could to straighten every broken bones and patched up any excessive internal healings.”

“How bad is she?” This time, it’s brave Feyre who asks. The rest of their courtiers are content to follow their lead and listen attentively.

“I won’t mince words, High Lady. Throughout my years as a Healer, this is one of the most horrifying cases that I’ve ever seen.” Madja begins with a look of disgust, and it chills Feyre. “From what I can tell from Lady Amren’s injuries, she was thrown off the House of the Wind’s stairs that it utterly mangled her body. Then there’s an issue with the internal tears on the lower half of her body. There’s no way to say this, but she was violently gang raped, beaten and healed continously; the bruises, semen and handprints were obvious enough. Lastly, she was burned alive; perhaps as an effort to dispose the body? If that’ was the case, the perpetrators used a large quantity of alcohol because the scent lingered. Unfortunately, I can only managed to heal the scorched marks on her legs and arms. The face was too severe for me to do anything but mend Lady Amren’s nose and eyes.”

Elain’s face is green with nausea. She quickly excuses herself for the bathroom while the rest struggles to accept Madja’s report. Feyre and Varian are beyond stricken - the prince runs into the room, inconsolable. Mor is sick to her stomach, and Azriel and Cassian close their eyes; such violence shakes even them.

“Thrown off the 1000 steps, beaten, raped, healed and burned alive,” Rhysand repeats emotionlessly, his face tight. “In that order?”

Madja inclines her head. “Yes, High Lord.”

“Thank you. For updating us and everything. Please do whatever else you can to help Amren recovered.”

The Healer bows and returns to the healing room. To continue the treatment and console Varian. The doors shut once more, and that’s when Feyre pitifully exclaims, “How in the Mother’s name could this have happened!? It’s Amren! Amren, for goodness sake! She’s the second most powerful among us after Rhysand!”

Azriel grimace. “I’m still investigating it,” He was the one who found Amren a couple of nights back. The sight of her became his most recent vivid nightmares lately. “By all accounts, this doesn’t make sense. Amren hasn’t left her apartment at all ever since she got her hands on a rare magical tome. We all are aware of it; she could barely hold herself back from bragging about it.”

“And she personally wards her apartments,” Cassian reminds them, brows furrowing. “No one should be able to enter without her explicit consent or if it’s one of us.”

This new mystery doesn’t bode well for any of them, especially Rhysand. If someone as powerful as Amren could be assaulted right underneath his nose, it means his position as a High Lord is faltering. Not to mention their security risk is now at an all-time high. Velaris should’ve been completely safe from outside threats and with Azriel’s constant presence and shadows, the city is basically assassin-proofed! Doubt begins to seep in. “I’m afraid there’s a powerful enemy roaming within Velaris as we speak,” Rhysand announces, making everyone’s attention turn to him. “Since Amren is my Second, I’ll personally take over the investigation, Azriel. There’s something else I’d rather you look into in the meantime. For now, no one goes anywhere alone. We need to make it a habit of telling each other where we’ll be going from now on. Feyre darling, it will set my heart at ease if you stay here and close to our son. This is the safest place in the entire Court.”

Feyre nods, and a fierce sense of determination burns in her. “I’ll have Elain stay close. It’ll be good if Nyx is familiar with her aunt. Speaking of which, you need to inform Nesta of the situation, Cassian. I know she’s been making progress with her Valkyries, but it’ll be better if you and her could live her for a couple of days until our unknown threat is dealt with.”

“Of course. I’ll fly Nesta in as soon as I can.” Cassian replies.

They easily divide themselves up afterwards. Cassian wastes no time flying back to Illyria for his Mate. Mor joins Madja and Varian in the healing room. Feyre goes to find her sister and son. That just left Rhysand and Azriel who reconvene in the High Lord’s private office.

“How are you feeling?” Azriel asks as soon as the door shuts behind him. He studies Rhysand’s features carefully.

“Unease? Concern? Take your pick, Az.” Rhysand sighs. “Amren has always been untouchable. To find out that she was debased like this…” He trails off, unsure how to say it. If this new threat could easily assault his Second, then it won’t be long before he’s next in line.

“It’s a horrifying wake up call for sure.”

“Amren will pull through; she always has. In the mean time, we can hand this sick bastard on a silver platter when she wakes up. Now, tell me about the leads.”

Azriel’s head slightly jerk to the side, breaking off eye contact. It’s as if he’s ashamed, and that couldn’t be right. “The shadows whisper a lot of things but nothing reliable lately. All I know is that Amren was reading when the attack happened. The layout of her apartment remains just as she left it. Whoever this is, stealth is their utmost speciality. Ward manipulation as well.”

Rhysand runs his fingers through his hair, he can feel frustration bubbling up. “Right. That’s better than nothing. Although investigation is not my strongest suit, perhaps I can detect some foreign magic among her hoards.”

Azriel silently wishes his brother all the best of luck. “And what do you want me to do?”

“Your newest assignment is the Spring Court. I want you to look around for a bit; figure out what Tamlin and his new Mate are up to. She mentioned a strange word during the High Lords' meeting. I’m worried if it might be some kind of weapon.” Rhysand explains, deep in thought. He truly thought he had seen the last of Tamlin, content with the belief that the pathetic High Lord would waste his days away in exile. For him to appear with a Mate in his arm sends off every alarm bell. He’s certain that Tamlin is planning something insidious once more.

“Understood. What do you want me to do about his Mate?”

Rhysand recalls what Feyre said to him. “For now, don’t show yourself to her. She’s human. Feyre dislikes her attitude when she tries to warn the female about Tamlin. She’s ungrateful, rude and strange. It sounds like she and Tamlin make the perfect pair.” He snorts. He can’t imagine any female that can put up with Tamlin, Mate or otherwise. If only he Winnowed earlier…

The two continue discussing the finer details of Azriel’s new mission for about 2 hours. Once the Spymaster is properly debriefed, Azriel excuses himself. He’s about to seek out Mor first before leaving the River House, only for a voice to stop him:

“Is it true? Does Tamlin have a Mate?”

When Azriel slowly turns around, there’s Lucien. He’s dressed as impeccable as well, with his red mane in a ponytail. “Doesn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to eavesdrop, fox?”

“Why would I bother to eavesdrop on your very important meeting with Rhysand?” Lucien counters, rolling his eyes. “I just came back from the Wall and wanted to confirm something. Rumours has it that the High Lord of the Spring Court made an appearance during the latest High Lords meeting with a human. Is it true?”

“…It is.”

Azriel watches as an indescribable expression takes over Lucien’s face. He glares at him. “It would be unwise for an emissary of the Night Court to meddle with the affairs of other Courts.”

“Is that a threat, Spymaster?”

“Take it as a friendly warning,” Azriel suggests. Unlike the rest of the Inner Circle, Azriel is still incredibly wary of Lucien, and like hell, will he ever underestimate this Fae when there are still so many things that they don’t know about him. Especially with his intention on Elain, no matter what he claimed. “The situation is becoming dangerous. You wouldn’t want to end up on the other end of someone’s pointed finger.” The implication is clear - any suspicion activities or behaviours from Lucien would mean his newest living quarters to be in the dungeons. And with that, he stalks deeper into the House. Done with the conversation.

Lucien’s mouth presses into a thin line.

He knows what happened to Amren and hears of the monster hiding in the city. Personally, staying in Velaris and keeping the populace ignorant is a horrible idea. Still, he has a feeling that Rhysand wouldn’t announce anything just so he could maintain any semblance of control when in reality, anywhere is safer than the Night Court right now, and Lucien has always been a survivor against all odds. The Spring Court and its High Lord were once his home and friend, and now with such deep bad blood running between them, would he survive Tamlin once more?

He makes his decision.

“When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive? It wasn’t hard to realise. Love’s the death of peace of mind.” Juno sings using the broom as a makeshift microphone. She’s currently cleaning the master bedroom. Or at least she was.

Today marks the third day since Tamlin disappeared.

She tries not to feel guilty, it’s a feeling akin to slimy tar. She did nothing wrong! She told him about her powers as soon as she got the hang of it and was genuinely honest when she said she would never use it maliciously against him. That should be enough to prove that she’s not like Amarantha… right?

Juno sighs and stops sweeping. Having a conscious can be a pain in the ass sometimes. No longer in the mood, she strides over to a wholly intact dresser where her phone is blaring Bad Omen’s playlist. “Shit, 60% already? And my power bank is dead AF. I really need to stop using my phone so much.” She mourns the inevitable loss of her screen time. Should she start journalling whatever notes she has about ACOTAR somewhere? No, no - she doesn’t want the deal with the risk of it falling into the wrong hands. At least her phone is password-protected. Oh! That reminds her, she needs to have another serious talk with Tamlin about protection against Daematis and she has just the most hilarious contingency plans!

“A man needs his space. That’s what they always say, right?” Juno muses to herself. She’s torn between searching out for Tamlin and staying in the manor. The magic has been returning to him nicely ever since Tamlin has been training and taking care of himself again, so she’s not worried about him (and she doubts she would ever be, to be honest). “I guess I can give him one more day. We really need to start tackling the Rot soon, though. Democracy is way overdue.”

Suddenly, there’s a sharp ripple in the air, and Juno finds herself no longer alone.

“He was right…”

Juno props her arm on the broom and the other one on her hip as she greets this stranger. “Red hair. Cute eye. Handsome face but not as tall as Maedhros. You must be Lucien - now this is a surprise.”

Lucien tilts his head. “Tamlin told you about me?” He didn’t expect that. He fully resigned that whatever friendship they had before had become painful memories - even the good ones. Lucien also didn’t expect such nonchalance from Tamlin’s human. But Feyre was also once a human. That was a painful lesson Lucien had learnt.

“No.” She beams. “So what brings you back to the Spring Court? Finally missed your bestie?”

She’s strange, evidently so. Lucien has never met a human this blasé, as if she has no care in the world despite that he just came in out of nowhere. Has she gotten used to Prythian and, by extension, Fae-kind? Feyre’s initial hatred of them makes her transition period difficult, not to mention that her life was in danger the moment she killed Andras. Another ghost of the past that Lucien will forever carry. “Curiosity leads me here,” He decided and carefully looked around. The manor is still in a horrible state of disrepair, but judging from the broom, she and Tamlin have been cleaning up. The thought oddly makes him relieved. “You know my name but I never did catch yours.”

“It’s Juno. Just Juno. If you want to talk to Tamlin then you’re out of luck. He’s been wandering somewhere for a few days now. I would play the part of a good host and offer you tea or some shit but we don’t have them right now.”

“No, that’s alright,” Lucien hastily replies, his hand raised to stop her. He’s not sure if he even wants to see Tamlin again just yet. “Thank you for the offer. I just…” He shuts up, conflicted with his wants and emotions.

The human female hums. “I can hazard a guess that you weren’t just curious about little ol’ me. You want to know how Tamlin is doing. Some guilty conscious perhaps? Now that’s a bitch and a half. Well, you can either help me clean up as we wait for the Beasty to return to his lair or vamoose back to whoever you came from. I’ll update Tamlin that you drop by. Heh. I always wanted to use that word - vamoose!”

“You’re unlike any human female I’ve ever met in my travels,” Lucien can’t help but admit. Fascinate and wary at the same time. “The way how you carry yourself and speak are foreign to me. How did you ended up in Prythian?”

Juno throws her hands up. The broom clatters on the floor. “Fuck it if I know! Now are you staying or what? I could use some handy air magic to move the rubbles.”

Lucien supposed he could discover what Tamlin had been up to through his Mate. If he’s lucky enough, Tamlin won’t return for a few more days.

“Sure. Where do you want me?”

“The wing where you guys kept that Mayo Muncher, Yoghurt Yoddler - whatever. Tamlin gave me the green light to do a total makeover when I asked so you’re gonna be my sledgehammer.”

“Did… did you mean Feyre?”

“Sorry! I keep forgetting her name. Now let’s go! I’ll answer any questions you got. Seems that’s a trend with you Faes.”

Unbeknownst to Lucien and Juno, Tamlin returns on the same day. Having had enough of wandering aimlessly and with nothing but the Rot as far as he could see, he made peace with more things in his life. While moving forward is incredibly difficult, he owes it to himself and his Court. It’s not about redemption, but finding means where you can be at peace in life. That there’s a viciously petty goddess in human form living with him for the foreseeable future. All in all, not a lot to work with, but it’s high time Tamlin starts somewhere. With that newfound determination, he made his way back home. When he passes through familiar landmarks, he can hear loud noises from somewhere in the manor.

Panic grips his heart. His every thought turns to Juno.

Still in his beast skin, Tamlin leaps inside and rushes to the wing where the walls incessantly haunt him and old paintings he couldn't bear to destroy nestled in various corners. When he notices the redhead beside his human, Tamlin’s claws immediately dig into the ground, grounding his tracks. Lucien immediately spins around and places himself between Tamlin and Juno, flight or fight instincts taking over. His eyes widen when he realises that it’s the High Lord.

“Tamlin? You’re back! We didn’t expect you.” Lucien greets hesitantly. He glances at Juno, who nods before stepping aside.

The Beast transforms into a Fae. Despite wearing a set of loose white shirt, a pair of brown pants and long blond hair wild, Tamlin is ever the picture-perfect image of a prince. “Lucien. Never thought I’d see you again.” His eyes glance at Juno. He doesn’t know what to feel when she shakes her head.

Lucien, for the record, scoffs. “The feelings mutual. The last time we spoke, you were more beast than Fae. There was nothing that I said that could get through you.”

Tamlin takes a step back, his hands ball into fists. Seeing his reaction, Lucien ducks in shame.

“Ok. Y’all need some real talk,” Juno decided, eyes shifting from the two of them. “Get it out of your system but please don’t destroy anything, alright? It’ll be a bitch to clean up afterwards. Actually, wait. Go stupid, go crazy; if this entire wing blows it, it’ll be easier for us to build something new!” She gives them a thumbs up and skedaddles without looking behind.

“Your Mate is something else.” Lucien says in apropos of nothing. “She’s not the kind of female I imagined for you.”

Tamlin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He wants to correct his once best friend that the Mate thing was just a ruse so that they could easily dupe the other High Lords and their own Mates, but since they no longer have that trust between them, he instead replies, “Did she forced you to help her moved the rubbles?”

“In exchange for information,” Lucien answers without shame. “Though it were mostly about her. I sensed that she speaks the truth but then again, I’m not Morrigan. It doesn’t help that most of her words makes no sense to me.”

“It’s just how she is,” Tamlin settles instead—his demeanour changes, opting for a more serious stance. Slipping into the role of the High Lord has long become his second skin. “Though the fact that an emissary of the Night Court not only trespassed into my home, he was also in close proximity to my Mate. That’s a crime that deserves death. Did you forgot, Lucien?”

The redhead slowly shakes his head, sorrowful, given his history. “Never, High Lord.”

“Then why are you here? Did Rhysand send you?”

“No. No, Tamlin. I came here on my own accord.”

“Why!? Why now and not… not before!? Not after you left me for good!”

“I just need to know that you’re doing alright!” Lucien shouts, his voice thick with despair. “You were my friend, Tamlin! You gave me a place, a home, when I lost everything I knew! I will never forget what you did for me. And to me. You lost yourself so quickly that no matter what I did, I couldn’t reach out to you anymore. I tried, Tamlin; I did! But you were so hellbent on drowning in your emotions that I could hardly recognised you. And then after what Feyre did to the Spring Court ever after I told her that we needed you as an ally - ”

Tamlin swallows roughly. Feyre was the breaking point, shattering whatever he had left - pride, reputation, respect and a long-time friend. But it wasn’t all Feyre’s doing in the end, was it? He’s mature enough to admit that. Mother, what a situation they find themselves in. “I’m sorry.”

Lucien’s jaw is instantly on the floor, gobsmacked. Go big or go home, Juno muttered that once when she tried - and failed - to follow Tamlin’s easiest recipe for a lemon cake.

“I’m sorry. I-I regretted hurting you the most. You were a good friend to the very end. May you found someone worthy of your trust and affection.” A knot untangles in Tamlin’s heart. A burden released finally. It doesn’t matter if Lucien refuses to accept his apology. It’s a closure that he never knew he needed. Though he feels slightly lighter, he’s also tired. When will he truly be free of exhaustion?

“Thank you,” Lucien says when he finds his tongue again. “That means a lot to me. Is your new growth thanks to your Mate?”

“Please, that woman is many things. Vulnerable conversations isn’t one of them.”

“Ah. I reckon she’s a handful?”

“That’s a gross understatement…” Tamlin mutters. He clears his throat awkwardly. “If you’re not here on Rhysand’s orders then it’s not safe for you to be here, Lucien. His paranoia knows no bounds.”

Lucien nods. “Watch your back, Tamlin; your Mate’s too. I fear a new threat is upon us. Oh, and you didn’t hear this from me but a certain Spymaster might be lurking around soon. Remember; you didn’t hear it from me.”

The thought of Azriel snooping around, looking for his weaknesses and potentially sabotaging what they’re trying to do should enrage Tamlin. Instead, he’s not bothered by it. Not anymore.

“I appreciate the heads up. My Mate will handle it.”

Azriel lands in the middle of a forest of the Spring Court.

The moon hangs high in the night sky. It’s not as pretty as the canvas above Velaris.

It’s dead silent, Azriel notices. Even the nocturnal animals are nowhere to be found, which kicks the Spymaster’s heightened senses into overdrive. He purposely avoided landing anywhere near Tamlin’s manor as a precaution; better to play it on the safe side in case the High Lord is roaming around in his Beast form. He tried asking Elain if she Saw anything out of the ordinary, but all she gave him was Tamlin and Juno cooking dinner together. Azriel couldn’t imagine someone as feral as Tamlin to be so domesticated, but he wisely kept that to himself. He thanked Elain for the trouble, though.

The dry leaves crunch underneath his boots as Azriel emerges from the looming forest. The shadows that dance behind the trees whisper all sorts of things to him:

“Sick. Sick. The lands are so sick.”

“One with us. The Beast is one with us.”

“The young can no longer grow.”

“The winds of change carries vengeance with them.”

Concerning but not useful at the moment. He scrutinised his surroundings; nothing but a barren wasteland as far as the eye could see. The landscapes are hardly recognisable that for a brief moment, Azriel wonders if he’s even in the Spring Court. Everything is either dead or dying.

Azriel begins his reconnaissance as methodically as possible - taking in every detail he can see before making his way to the manor, mindful to keep to the shadows in case of any surprises. Unfortunately, one surprise did catch the Spymaster off guard.

He was so focused on the world around him that he failed to notice the thick tree stump 3 steps before him, causing Azriel to slip and fall hands first into a pile of animal faeces. It’s still warm. He curses his luck; he’ll never salvage his pride again if Cassian and Rhysand know about this! He quickly regains his composure and flies to the nearest lake to wash off. It didn’t take long for him to find it.

The lake's surface is murky grey, intensely so even when reflected by the moonlight.

“Azriel… my sweet boy. Will you turn around and look at your mother?”

He stops washing his hands. Blood runs ice cold as he realises the gravity of the situation.

“My son… can you hear me? Please, just… turn around so I can see how much you’ve grown.”

His leathery wings tuck close by instinct, a habit of curling himself small so he could fit on his mother’s lap when he was a boy. Azriel’s body shakes as it takes his entire willpower not to turn around.

“Azriel? Oh, sweetheart; I forgive you for abandoning me. You just need to TuRN aRoUND.”

More voices from all around him. More Bogges closing in on the Illyrian - surrounding him. The very air ripples with malignant intents. The hair on the back of his neck raises in alarm when he feels phantom claws running down his arms. A mockery of his mother’s hug. This doesn’t make sense! He thought that there were none left in the Spring Court!?

“Azriel… are you going to be just like your father? Turn around if you still love me. Turn around!”

He can’t fight the Bogges. Not in their intangible form, and acknowledging them will mean instant death. Shit, shit! He needs to fly away; he needs to retreat -

Cold, wet hands suddenly grab his. He instinctively jerks away, but it’s too late - a swarm of deranged water-wraiths cackled as they drag him to a watery grave. Sinking and sinking and sinking, the surface is getting farther and farther away as the wraiths attack a struggling Azriel. They claw his face, gnaw on his legs and dig into his torso, tainting the already filthy water with blood. He manages to draw his sword, but his swings are slow as they cut through water while the monster deftly dodges his every attack. Some even mocked him. When a pair begins pulling at his wings, panic and pain set in. His brain asks him a question: Die via drowning or consumed by Bogges?

Azriel chooses neither. With a powerful burst of his wings, the pressure pushed the water-wraiths away just enough for him to swim back up and into the sky. He has to retreat - he needs to - his injuries are too deep, and one of the Water-Wraiths manages to claw him in the eye. He can’t heal on land where the Bogges await their meal.

It’s with deep shame that Azriel fly back to the Night Court. His mission is abandoned for now.

In the manor in the distance, Juno watches the speck of black dot vanish between the stars. She raises a glass of water in his direction.

“Better luck next time, Ass-riel.”

#lady writes #fanfic #acotar #anti ic #anti sjm #pro tamlin #modern girl in prythian au #cw: rape #cw: violence

12 notes · View notes

littlemisslol-fic · 1 year

Text

Okay anyways varigo makes me fucking deranged and I'm too insane to articulate why properly so here's a long ramble I posted to discord that makes about zero sense unless you're me:

HUGO:

Hugo fucking LOVES that varian is so damn assertive, and unafraid to know/be EXACTLY what varian wants to be. He's so used to wishy washy shit, where EVERYONE has a secret motive and everyones trying to play each other. So to just be allowed to be himself, and to be with varian, is something that's frighteningly new to him and he loves the experience of it. It's having the space in their relationship to work together and build something that neither of them fully know what's going to be the end product, but that's okay, because they'll have built it together.

He loves that varian is SCARY smart, and not really one to hide that fact, but also there's no like... huge ego to it, because that's another thing Hugo's dealt a lot with, is EGO. Like varian will kinda think he's more capable than he is sometimes, but its never out of pure blind egoism, its out of lack of experience. He loves that varian can and WILL stand up for what he thinks is right, that strong moral compass built up from a long time of suffering. It would have been so easy for varian to be bitter, and jaded, but he's not, and Hugo think's its something amazing that varian is willing to help pull hugo of all people, out of the gutter with him. Idk I think hugo's VERY attracted to someone who has a strong sense of self, and an unwillingness to HIDE said self

VARIAN:

Not to be morbid but I think varian kinda... stopped laughing, after the shit with his dad and getting a job and Growing Up (TM) so he still had a few fun times but for the most part no one could really make him like WHOLE SEND laugh his ass of... until Hugo skdfsjkdf like I think that Hugo's sense of dry humor just gets him EVERY TIME and makes him nearly screech with laughter. Even when he's had a rough day, and feels like everything's crumbling, hugo can at least pull a giggle outta him!!!

ALSO I think he likes kinda knowing that under that sassy boy is a soft heart, and knowing that it's something to cherish and take care of is important to varian, like he knows that it's a part of hugo that doesn't get shared often, so to know that he's been trusted with this piece of hugo is something precious to varian.

He likes that hugos willing to let varian fumble, to let him discover how to be in a relationship without judging varian for lack of experience, while also not holding his hand. I think Varian’s used to being kinda talked over/slightllllyyy patronized since all his Corona friends are like a decade older than him. Its not malicious, just the age gap thing showing, but Varian never really gets that from Hugo in terms of their relationship status. Hugo's patient with a lot of things, but never a doormat, and varian appreciates that hugos willing to make it a more even playing field between them.

LONG STORY SHORT:

Varian loves hugo for his patience, and his humor, and his willingness to trust even after all this time.

Hugo loves Varian because Varian is self assured without being egotistical, and because he's genuine in everything he does

I CARE THEM VERY MUCH OKAY BYE

#varigo #im FERAL SHHHH

54 notes · View notes

dangara2610 · 8 months

Text

(2/10) Blind Hugo (Part 3 and final)

Final part of this second of tenth giving away ideas

And yey~ , finally, I learned how to get the link of fanart I found around

So well, let's continue before I run out of time again.

I finally learned how to put that slash for reading more, hahaha

1.- Varian asks Hugo about why did he wrote he was "leaving"? what did he meant about it?, and Hugo talks about how he feels with everything, weak, dumb, not useful, dependable , out of reality, alone whenever there are not voices or sounds of them around, paranoid during those moments, something could be wrong and he would be aware until is too late.

2.- Varian apologize for not acknowledge it, all the team noticed the struggles but, even if they tried their best to ease them, looks like it's not enough, Hugo adds that that's is the worst feeling, because all of them are amazing and he doesn't deserve any of the effort they are putting on him.

3.- Yong adds that he shouldn't say that, he is a friend and a human being, that's why he deserves to be helped, Hugo is surprised by Yong's voice, he didn't noticed he woke up too, all is dark and he thought he was talking privately with Varian, he feels a little bit of shame , but that's the little push that makes Hugo shed the tears he had been holding while talking to Varian, also Yong words were touching, "be" a friend and a human being, hope he doesn't breaks his innocence getting to know people with no friends who doesn't get help and end up on the lower places, be a human being makes no difference.

4.- They are now on a grupal hug, and it's sounds how the door gets open, at least, Hugo can guess that's Nuru entering the boys bedroom, and that's confirmed when she speaks to add some consolation words and joins the hug, and guilt gets deeper, should Hugo tell them about his association with Donella and confess he was here to commit treason against them this whole time?

And here I'm going to rush because I'm running out of time, well, I was wondering what could happen next, and my complicated mind suggested this :

Z) Try all the scenarios already written on the fics around but with Hugo sick , muahahahha

Okey no, any way, I thought about this kind of things happening according to each variable like, what kind of Donella is participating?

Mom-ella

Abusive Donella

Cold business Donella

And then, what Hugo would do?

Confess rigth there and quit helping Donnie, maybe send her a goodbye message, telling her he is better with his new friends and please not search him, he won't burden her in any way

Not confess and wait to send Donnie a message asking her to retrieve him back with her

Not confessing and not sending messages, he would pretend nothing else matters and let other people lead him.

And this would give us rich combination of angsty chapters until reaching a , a) Happy ending, b) Bad ending

On my fic summary I left behind, I picked "Cold business Donella" and Hugo not confessing and sending a "retrieve me" message to her.

Donella and Cyrus made a plan were they hired a street acttess , (those who build a temporal scenary for a opera or a grim brothers story play with puppets or actors ) and tell her to play a "mother who just found her long lost orphaned child" , and then "You discovered, now that he is all grown up, he got blind because of an accident"

She innocently did it, doing her "casting part" on Donnie and Cy's rented room, she thought it was for getting a place on a teathre on other town, but, they told her they needed her for retrieve a nephew of them, they couldn't go because of a important situation, so they gave her (Did I called her Lidia ?) enough money to go for him and come back to the place he was, she also needs to use her makeup to make fake age marks and not look so young.

So, back the team, they are having breakfast, there is a woman going around the market , door to door , asking for a young men with the description of Hugo, pretty vague but useful, she is supposed to had lost him when he was a baby, but she memorized the accurate description Donnie gave her.

Someone who saw Hugo before during a shopping time, in order to help her, gets near the team's car with her, and he leaves while she presents her speech.

And then she makes eye contact with him, she gasps, and after some seconds of awe she starts shredding tears, runs to him to embrace him, Hugo looks confused, she asks why he doesn't look at her, then she observes his sick eyes , she changes her face expression for one of sadness, she says something "oh, my dear son, I'm so sorry" , and cries on his chest, hugging him again, and then, he returns the hug.

Nuru is wondering if the woman really found her long lost baby and if isn't she making a mistake, but then remembers her mother told her about a maternal instinct and 6th sense , so, destiny got them together again, just in time before sending Hugo away, that's makes her deeply happy.

As well, Varian and Yong think about their own re-meeting with their mothers, so the happiness is shared and everyone respects the moment.

Hugo is pretty sure this is Donella doing, the message reached her and she made up this lie, but, since he was a little kid, he gave up fantasies about getting adopted by a lovely family, meeting his real parents or solely his mother, so, just for the confort and ilusion, he can play along and pretend this is real, no doubt, an orphan finding out their dear mother was searching for them can be very heartwarming, he hopes he can feel the same once they reach Donella, she can be cold but he also kind of see her as a mother for him.

They depart, the team say their goodbyes and good wishes, give their houses addresses so Hugo and his mom can send letters once the trials finishes , all the medical kits Varian did are safely packed for the travel, Nuru gave a chest with gold for the expenses, noticing the lady is not very rich an Hugo's medicines may run out.

On the cart/taxi? they rented, Lidia wants to get to know Hugo better and asks about everything, starting with his current experience with with his friends, how they met? Where were they going?

Hugos says half trues half lies, as everyone being guys wanting to reach a university placed far away, to become famous engineers with great inventions, but, since he got blind, that dream became impossible to reach , Lidia tells him that, there are dreams that look impossible, but , if he believes in himself, he can do anything, ha, for him, that just sounds too naive, so they keep chatting, nothing to revealing, just made up , sugarcoated tales about his life.

They reach the destination, Lidia wants to join their table to chat about everything but Donella quickly dismisses her, thank her and take her out of the rented room, then Don asks Hugo to take a seat, he nerviously says yes and tries to find with his hand where the chair or bed is, Don gives an exasperated huff and process to lead him to the table and to the chair, she asks Cyrus to make sure the actress is not around.

Confirmed , Hugo already knew the long lost mother was a lie, but still, he liked the fantasy, confirmation only gives him a little reality slap, just before another soft real slap on his check done by Donella, she saying that his eyes just look tired but not damaged, uncolored or blur, how can she makes sure he is not lying? He says they can go together with a doctor, what would he gain faking blindness?

It sounds like Cyrus was giggling and Donella shushing him while Hugo was talking, whatever was doing Cy?, he was feeling like something was waving at his face but he tough it was the wind, not Cy's hand, then a soft smack, Cyrus laugh a little, "You didn't saw that coming" , so, that's the test, no need to go to any doctor, he is pretty much blind.

Donella asks Hugo what are they supposed to do now, according to him , so he says that he would work for her but with things that requires not going out, he was provided with money and medical kits for a long time, she then asks if he can build artefacts with his condition, he can try but so far, he had avoided it, and maybe , he will need someone helping him for the things difficult to locate , and Donella says that would add another mouth to feed and she can't afford that.

Hugo says he was specting her or Cy to be that one, and she says that's ridiculous, time is money , and take care of a sick guy with no chance to recover is a waste of time and a waste of money.

He is stunned after hearing that, and says the only reason he asked her to retrieve him was because he had trust and faith to her, she was the one adopting him and giving him a job, she was the one getting him a pair of glasses twice a year , saying that he had potential, so she would spend some money for him to recover his sight because he had more value than the glasses.

She answers back that, precisely , if he had a decent sight, he could make her gain money, go out on missions, get self taught and build useful things, without his sight it, whats the use ?

He says that he thought she and Cy would care about him, if he knew this was going to be their reaction, then he would had stayed with his friends, they cared.

Donella says she is pretty sure "his friends" were planning to ditch him somewhere , busy people can't spend time with a invalid, he should be grateful he wasn't thrown at the streets at the first chance, he endup saying something like "how can you said that?" but being the last straw of stress, he can't help but she'd tears of anger and sadness, Donella tells him to not exaggerate, pats his head and asks him to calm down, he searches her hand to hold it , stand up and , go? , she just steps to block his way, and he interprets that like , is she open up her arms?, he can just rely on imagination and the new habit of getting hugs from the team and his fake true mother these past time, so he thinks it doesn't matter, he will hug her, maybe that can calm down him, maybe that can warm a little her cold heart, maybe that can help him to make her change her mind, he stills hopes she can accept him as a son as he envisioned her as his mom.

The afternoon passed, the night arrived, Cy and Donella were condescending with Hugo, they had dinner, they shushed him to sleep, tomorrow would be a new day.

Hugo woke up and it was warm and comfy, but different from the bed he remembers from yesterday, he asks for Don and Cy, they don't answer back, he stands up to search them, the room is different, furniture is on the way, other beds and other people groans or snores, until a door gets open.

A woman speaks and asks him to go back and sleep again, is too early, he ask where he is, and the answer is that he is in the orphanage of the town, a different town were de room was rented , the lady , maybe a nun, says she is very sorry for him.

It just happened that , he got abandoned on the door of the orphanage, with a note, some medicine and a bag of gold, the note saying that it was not possible for , the tutors?, to take care of him anymore, a warning about him being blind , but very smart, to let him have his pain medicine once a day and buy more with the little donation they left on the bag.

No way, they actually abandoned him somewhere in the road, at night, he can't think straight, he wants to go out and reach them, maybe they are not far away, the nun has not enough strength to stop him and she asks for help, there are others employees from the place who find easy to stop Hugo from going further away, Hugo struggles to get away or explain, but he is too altered, so the other guys contain him and even handgag him asking him to quiet or he may wake up the other orphans on the building, that just makes him feel more nervous and fights backs with all the strength he has left.

He liberates and reaches some exit to a garden, he keeps running, until reaching a wall, touches it and follows until finding a door, it's locked , and he gives up, he feels pathetic, he already had cried a lot this week, to add one more , is this going to be his life from now on? The other guys reach him to give consolation words, and one suggests to carry him to the father/director office for better management of the situation.

They apologize for making him feel trapped, and not being more careful, they are ashamed for mistreating a blind guy, it was rare enough to have a full grown up man as another orphan on the dormitories of the men in service.

This is reaching the end, so let's say, Donella and Cyrus keep more than half of the money of Nuru's chest, put Hugo's oftamologist kid for sale, his braille books as well, and keept his notes with his friends addresses, Hugo feels worst at the realization of these things.

The staff of the orphanage were being kind enough for him, but , he lived secluded and locked because , if people around realized they took in an invalid, they would be getting lots more and the money may not be enough, so, his staying is a secret.

The director/father was a fine men, he got him emotional support, all church focused, rare but welcomed for Hugo, he missed his friends and the idea of his uncaring mother caring , of course, he didn't revealed any of his criminal past , just glimpses of his live if all that got scrapped.

Pretty sure his friends won't search for him, they think he is safe with his fake true mother, Donella won't come for him, this is his life, everyone here is kind, he doesn't feel alone , they let them do some soft jobs and food is not a problem, things aren't that bad and he is grateful for that.

🏵️🌸🪷🌷🌺🌹💐🪻🌻🌼🌾🌴🍀

Thanks for reading

Any thoughts on the matter?

Have a great day 📚🌀🫧

#varian #tangled varian #tts varian #varian the alchemist #varian tts #rapunzels tangled adventure #rta varian #hugo vat7k #varian and the seven kingdoms #vat7k nuru #vat7k hugo #vat7k varian #vat7k fanart #varian tangled #vat7k yong #vat7k donella #vat7k cyrus

7 notes · View notes

jainaism · 4 months

Text

Prejudice towards Jaina №5356 "She switches several times from i hate the horde to it's garrosh to i hate the horde"

Jaina doesn't forgive the horde neither after the explosion of Theramore, nor after the trial of Garrosh.

“You do not know my heart anymore, Thrall,” she said. “I am no butcher—but I will no longer call for peace at any cost. The Horde you do not lead is dangerous and must be challenged at every turn—and defeated. Then, perhaps, there can be peace. But not before.” I’m not what I was—I don’t burn for vengeance anymore. But… neither am I the woman who longed so much for harmony between the Horde and the Alliance. There… can’t be harmony, Kalec. Not while Garrosh leads the Horde, not after what he has done. I don’t believe peace is the answer anymore. - tow

When she's asked to become a leader of Kirin Tor, Jaina doesn’t know what to do, since it's extremely difficult to be neutral in this situation, but she agrees, while fighting her anger every day.

What if the Horde killed your friends? Your family? Destroyed everything your had. Could you maintain your conviction even then? To be honest, I struggle. Every. Day. Every day, the hard decisions. Every night… the nightmares. But I have a responsibility to preserve the Kirin Tor. - Jaina, mop

Nobody dislikes Garrosh more than me. I wrestle with my anger every day. Anduin, you know more than anyone, it's important to separate the Horde from its people. The Sunreavers still operate within this city. Alliance and Horde work together. As long as we stay above the war, then there's hope for the world as a whole. I see our city as a beacon of light, showing the way. If we can trust one another here, then there's hope for the rest of the world. - Jaina, mop.

However, despite this, the sunreavers have a different opinion. They help the horde steal the divine bell from Darnassus, another artifact that could set off a hundred Theramors across the Azeroth. Jaina finds out about it, it enrages her, she losts the shit. That's where her patience ends, and she's learned her lesson.

For too long, I have toiled to mend fences between Alliance and Horde. Time and time again, I've given the Horde the benefit of the doubt - and time and time again, they stab me in the back. I resude to be betrayed again! If the hode intends to use the Kirin Tor as a weapon against the alliance, then they have no place in Dalaran. I've decided. Certain members of the Kirin-Tor have put their allegiance to the Horde above the order, and I will NOT tolerate it. This is nothing short of a betrayal. - Jaina, mop.

The Kirin Tor was betrayed from within. I've handled the situation. You're fooling yourself. Once Horde, always Horde. I see that now. - Jaina, mop.

This has been the worst year of my life: Theramore, destroyed. And a betrayal from within the Kirin Tor. The lesson is clear. From here on out, I'm taking the initiative. - Jaina, mop.

Next, there is a skirmish between the horde and alliance and zandalari. Jaina orders the alliance to switch from the horde to the trolls, and when she and Lor-Themar decide to part peacefully, Vereesa remains unhappy, and Jaina in the one who discourages her ardor, saying that "this battle will not bring her husband back."

During the siege, Jaina wants to first make Garrosh suffer and then kill him, while she just proposes to dismantle the horde, because she saw the possibility of another betrayal. However, Varian is against this, and Jaina, although disappointed, agrees to make peace with the horde.

During Garrosh's trial, Jaina wants him to receive the punishment he deserves, but Kalecgos reproaches her for this and is afraid that after this she will not stop. This upsets Jaina because she has become very attached to him - and mind you, when he was in trouble, she helped him no matter what, and he is just an asshole here. When Tyrande asks her if she would become the same as the horde if she washed away Orgrimmar, Jaina replies that the horde is on Garrosh. Because she keep separeting the horde and its people from Garrosh.

At the end of the book, she is seriously injured, and the Red Crane gives her and everyone else a blessing (temporary), thanks to which she feels herself calm and silently reconciles with Thrall, although they do not become friends again. She doesn't forgive the horde, but also she doesn't see every single orc or elf as pure evil.

Conclusion: “the horde is not garrosh,” Jaina thought exactly that throughout the entire MoP, the only difference being that she stopped giving the horde a “second chance” and began to see it for what it really is. While she wants to kill Garrosh, she despises the rest of the horde, continues to blame it for the destruction of Theramore, does not trust it, punishes traitors, etc, but at the same time she goes into negotiations, stops Vereesa from the battle and only offers dismentle the horde, and not kill every single orc. She releases the elves and prisons to Silvermoon. Jaina helps the horde player, albeit reluctantly, strengthen the ring, and then runs along the broken shore with the alliance and the horde. And everything was fine until the horde betrayed the alliance again, which caused another wave of indignation from Jaina. She didn't forgive the horde then, keep blame them for Theramore and mistrust them because of it, but doesn't want to kill them all as she wanted to kill Garrosh.

The only problem here writing. This story is not well written because Golden sucks, making Jaina too soft, like in dumb Disney movies, but generally acceptable.

#jaina proudmoore #world of warcraft #warcraft #jaina #jaina proudmoore daily #alliance #wow #kalecgos #jaina's characteristic

3 notes · View notes

feyresdaughter · 1 year

Text

A Court of Frost and Starlight, chapter Four - Six:

Though Rhys and Azriel still instructed me whenever they could, though I truly loved to fly, the thought of exposing sensitive wings to the cold made me shiver.

RHYS AND AZRIEL STILL INSTRUCT HER

As High Lady, I hosted weekly open audiences with Rhys at the House of Wind. The requests ranged from the small—a faelight lamppost was broken—to the complicated—could we please stop importing goods from other courts because it impacted local artisans. Some were issues Rhys had dealt with for centuries now, but he never acted like he had. No, he listened to each petitioner, asked thorough questions, and then sent them on their way with a promise to send an answer to them soon. It had taken me a few sessions to get the hang of it—the questions he used, the way he listened. He hadn’t pushed me to step in unless necessary, had granted me the space to figure out the rhythm and style of these audiences and begin asking questions of my own. And then begin writing replies to the petitioners, too. Rhys personally answered each and every one of them. And I now did, too.

Please how can people hate Rhys 😭 look at this sweetheart

Velaris was by no means poor, its people mostly cared for, the buildings and streets well kept. My sister, it seemed, had managed to find the only thing relatively close to a slum.

I wanna live in Velaris plssss

I hadn’t been surprised two days ago when Rhys had handed me a piece of paper and asked if there was anything else I would like to add to it. On the paper had been a list of charities that he donated to around Solstice-time, everything from aiding the poor, sick, and elderly to grants for young mothers to start their own businesses. I’d added only two items, both to societies that I’d heard about through my own volunteering: donations to the humans displaced by the war with Hybern, as well as to Illyrian war widows and their families. The sums we allocated were sizable, more money than I’d ever dreamed of possessing. Once, all I had wanted was enough food, money, and time to paint. Nothing more. I would have been content to let my sisters wed, to remain and care for my father. But beyond my mate, my family, beyond being High Lady— the mere fact that I now lived here, that I could walk through an entire artists’ quarter whenever I wished …

The faerie only inclined her head. “Lady.” I fumbled for words, for something High Lady– ish and yet accessible, and came up empty. Came up so empty that I blurted, “It’s snowing.” As if the drifting veils of white could be anything else. The faerie inclined her head again. “It is.” She smiled at the sky, snow catching in her inky hair. “A fine first snow at that.”

Pls Feyre is so adorable and I love Ressina 😭

She gestured to me with a hand, the motion effortlessly graceful. “Rumor has it that you’re a fine artist. I can think of many uses for the space.”

HELL YEAH SHE IS RUMORS ARE RIGHT

The faerie shrugged with one shoulder. “Well, whether you are or aren’t, you needn’t go skulking around here. Every door is open to you, you know.” - “As High Lady?” I dared ask. “As one of us,” she said simply. The words settled in, strange and yet like a piece I had not known was missing. An offered hand I had not realized how badly I wanted to grasp.

“We remember it, you know,” Ressina said quietly, drawing my stare away. But her attention had landed on the rubble behind us, on the boarded-up studio, on the street, as if she, too, could see through the snow to the blood that had run between the cobblestones. “That you came for us that day.”I didn’t know what to do with my body, my hands, so I opted for stillness. Ressina met my stare at last, her ochre eyes bright. “We keep away to let you have your privacy, but don’t think for one moment that there isn’t a single one of us who doesn’t know and remember, who isn’t grateful that you came here and fought for us.”

Mor nudged me with an elbow, though her brown eyes gleamed . “And will Varian be joining us, do you think?” I snorted. “When I asked her yesterday, she hedged.” - “I think that means yes. Or he’ll at least be visiting her.” I smiled at the thought, and pulled Mor along to the next display window, pressing against her side for warmth .

Pleas I love besties Feyre and Mor walking through the snow together and gossiping

We eased through the densely packed heart of the Palace, passing beneath a latticework of faelights just beginning to twinkle awake overhead. From a slumbering, quiet place inside me, the painting name flitted by. Frost and Starlight.

I LOVE TITLES IN BOOKS

I was curled up on the bed, toasty and drowsy atop the layers of blankets and down quilts, when Rhys finally returned home as dusk fell. I’d barely managed ten pages before Rhys opened the bedroom door. His Illyrian leathers gleamed with melted snow, and more of it shone on his dark hair and wings as he quietly shut the door. “Right where I left you.”

Hehehe I love them

I rolled my eyes and sat up. “Did you at least eat?” He shrugged , his dark shirt straining across his broad shoulders. “I’m fine.” His gaze slid over my bare legs as I pushed back the covers. Heat bloomed in me, but I shoved my feet into slippers. “I’ll get you food.” - “I don’t want—” - “When did you last eat?” A sullen silence. “I thought so.” I hauled a fleece-lined robe around my shoulders. “Wash up and change. We’re leaving in forty minutes. I’ll be back soon.” He tucked in his wings, the faelight gilding the talon atop each one. “You don’t need to—” - “I want to, and I’m going to.” With that, I was out the door and padding down the cerulean-blue hallway. Five minutes later, Rhys held the door open for me wearing nothing but his undershorts as I strode in, tray in my hands. “Considering that you brought the entire damn kitchen,” he mused as I headed for the desk, still not anywhere near dressed for our visit , “I should have just gone downstairs.”

MOTHERhen mode actived. She's so mother omg

He set down his fork, his mouth twitching toward a smile. “Feyre.” I crossed my arms. “No one is too busy to eat.” - “You’re fussing.” - “It’s my job to fuss. And besides, you fuss plenty. Over far more trivial things.” - “Your cycle isn’t trivial.” - “I was in a little bit of pain—” - “You were thrashing on the bed as if someone had gutted you.” - “And you were acting like an overbearing mother hen.” - “I didn’t see you screaming at Cassian, Mor, or Az when they expressed concern for you.” - “They didn’t try to spoon -feed me like an invalid!” Rhys chuckled, finishing off his food.

The amount of serotonin these scenes are giving me

Even Madja, Rhys’s favored healer, could do little for the pain short of rendering me unconscious. There had been a point during that week when I’d debated it, the pain slicing from my back and stomach down to my thighs, up to my arms, like living bands of lightning flashing through me. My cycle had never been pleasant as a human, and there had indeed been days when I couldn’t get out of bed. It seemed that in being Made, the amplification of my attributes hadn’t stopped at strength and Fae features. Not at all. Mor had little to offer me beyond commiseration and ginger tea. At least it was only twice a year, she’d consoled me. That was two times too many, I’d managed to groan to her.

Feyre having the worst flow considering she started her period during poverty makes so much sense

“I cannot forgive anyone who made you suffer.” Cold, brutal words, spoken with such casual grace.

Same Rhysie. Feyre defense squad unite

“I don’t think anyone would mind.” - “I’d mind. And I like privacy, anyway. The last thing I want is Amren standing behind me, critiquing my work as I go.” Rhys chuckled. “Amren can be dealt with.” - “I’m not sure you and I are talking about the same Amren, then.”

Rhysie just wants Feyre to be happy and paint. 🥺 And the Amren comment, so true

“You were born on the longest night of the year.” His fingers again stroked down my back. Lower. “You were meant to be at my side from the very beginning.”

He pressed a kiss to my stomach, right over my navel. “Have I told you about that first time you winnowed and tackled me into the snow?” I smacked his shoulder , the muscle beneath hard as stone. “That’s your thought for a thought?” He smiled against my stomach, his fingers still exploring, coaxing. “You tackled me like an Illyrian. Perfect form, a direct hit. But then you lay on top of me, panting. All I wanted to do was get us both naked.” - “Why am I not surprised?” Yet I threaded my fingers through his hair. The fabric of my dressing gown was barely more than cobwebs between us as he huffed a laugh onto my belly. I hadn’t bothered putting on anything beneath. “You drove me out of my mind. All those months. I still don’t quite believe I get to have this. Have you.”

Someone please tell Rhysie it's real

“ I love you,” he breathed. “More than life, more than my territory, more than my crown.

And this is why acofas is superior, amen

My core pounded, sister to my thunderous heartbeat, the need to have him buried inside me, to have him— As if in mockery of those twin beats within me, a knocking rattled the bedroom door. “Just so you’re aware ,” Mor chirped from the other side, “we do have to go soon.” Rhys let out a low growl that skittered over my skin, his hair slipping over his brow as he turned his head toward the door. Nothing but predatory intent in his glazed eyes. “We have thirty minutes,” he said with remarkable smoothness. “And it takes you two hours to get dressed,” Mor quipped through the door. A sly pause. “And I’m not talking about Feyre.”

MOR COCKBLOCKING FEYSAND IS ONE OF MY FAV THINGS OKAY

I slumped against the pillows and breathed deep, cooling the need that coursed through me. Water gurgled in the bathing room, followed by a soft yelp. I wasn’t the only one in need of cooling, it seemed. Indeed, when I strode into the bathing room a few minutes later, Rhys was still cringing as he washed himself in the tub. A dip of my fingers into the soapy water confirmed my suspicions: it was ice-cold.

Thehehehe

MOR POV

“High Lord.” The words came out of her without thought. And her voice, the voice she used here … Not her own. Never her own, never down here with them in the darkness. Mor kept her voice just as cold and unforgiving as she corrected, “To what do we owe this pleasure, High Lord.”

Ysy girly, tell that bastard

A subtle nudge of Feyre’s hand against her own drew her out, away from that bloody clearing just over the border of the Autumn Court. Mor threw her High Lady a grateful glance, which Feyre smartly ignored, already returning her attention to the conversation. Never having taken her focus off it in the first place. Feyre had fallen into the role of mistress of this horrible city with far more ease than she had. Clad in a sparkling onyx gown, the crescent-moon diadem atop her head, her friend looked every part the imperious ruler. As much a part of this place as the twining, serpentine beasts carved and etched everywhere

I love POV where others admire Feyre, it's my favorite thing

“And how does your father’s court fare, Eris?” A mild, bored question from Feyre. His amber eyes held nothing but distaste. A roaring filled Mor’s head at that look. She could barely hear his drawled answer. Or Rhys’s reply.

Me when Mor

Hell, she’d even snapped a few of the Steward’s bones this spring— after Rhys had shattered his arms into uselessness. Had been glad to do it, after what Keir had said to Feyre, and then delighted when her mother had banished her from their private quarters.

Another person she’d one day kill. If Feyre and Rhys didn’t do it first. It didn’t matter what Tamlin had done in the war, if he’d brought Beron and the human forces with him. If he’d played Hybern. It was another day, another female lying on the ground , that Mor would not forget, could not forgive.

YESSSS KILL THAT SON OF A BITCH MOR

Her red gown flowing behind her, Mor turned her back on him, on the smirking heir to Autumn, and followed her High Lord and Lady through the darkness and back into the light.

So powerful omg

17 notes · View notes

eryanlainfa · 9 months

Note

hi hey very random but im new here and can i ask everything abt aiden? like the lore and their powers they seem so cool i wanna get into ur au :D

(idk how to exactly sayit)

Do not worry I basically shared almost NOTHING about them at all so no one really knows much about them except me and ONE friend. But maybe it is time for me to share more !

But- everything- ? You sure about that ? You want everything ? I'll assume you mean the important things because there's a LOT going on, you don't want to know 😭

If anyone wants MORE infos about Aiden or my worldbuilding around Tangled or my version of Vat7k. I CAN make posts going in more details but do YOU really want to read ALL OF THAT ??

So for now ! Important infos about Aiden under the cut !

Small worldbuilding thingy first : witches exist in my version, they're basically halfbloods of humans x whatever magical being, and it stays in their lineage for a whiiiile. Basically, contrary to humans, witches don't need artefacts to do magic, and different witches have different magical abilities (depending on what/who was their magical ancestor). And fun fact : they can't break promises. They genuinely physically can't. Because promises are a sort of pact, so they avoid it. (Aiden made two throughout their life and it always ended badly for them)

Aiden ! They're a witch and are from a powerful witch family known for their purple eyes. Their father ran away from said family before Aiden was born so they only got to learn more about their heritage when meeting the extended family during the vat7k journey. Lots of drama on that side.

Aiden's parents are very kind and simple people, they arrived in Old Corona around the same time as Quirin and Ulla so both couples became friends. But while Quirin quickly got the villagers' respect by helping around, Aiden's parents prefered to stay low, they were here in hide-out afterall.

Aiden is around a year and a half older than Varian. They are friends, at first because their parents also are, then because they're both nerds and the only ones capable of keeping up with the other's brain. They both care for each others, and yeaaaars later Aiden gets a crush, but it's very obviously one-sided.

When Aiden was very young they didn't really know how to control their powers, causing incidents and starting weird rumors around town, so their parents decided to lock it up. Since then Aiden got a tattoo on their back as a binding spell. Their father also added an illusion rune to said tattoo to turn their eyes orange/light brown instead of purple. (so through all of Tangled The Series and a good half of Vat7k they have orange eyes).

Due to the rumors (and needing someone to do the tattoo) Aiden's family moved away from Old Corona, they spend some years in another small village farther away and only come back to the capital 2 years before the movie takes place.

Aiden almost always knew they wanted to become a physician, for multiple reasons, and worked hard to attain their goal. So when the current royal physician accepted to make them his apprentice Aiden was overjoyed. They've resided within the castle since.

They lost the use of their right leg and left foot to the storm in Queen for a day. Due to not receiving proper care in time, once back to the castle, their mentor had to cut of the limbs because they were too damaged. Aiden got a prosthesis since then and they have multiple mobility aids they can use. Though it did take a while for them to accept the whole thing.

They took care of a hurt magpie and the bird just keeps on coming back to them, his name is Camille! He is very useful when Aiden needs to communicate with someone who's far away.

Aiden has almost no impacts on the Tangled Series, I like to make things difficult for myself and kept everything canon intact. During the series they are mostly off-screen being busy, their mentor makes them work a LOT, and when they have time off they mostly hang out with their friends who also work within the castle. I could genuinely make a spin off solely on castle staff shenanigans-

Aiden's interactions with the main cast is limited and, as I said, happen off-screen. The only plot point they impact is the saporian take-over of the castle. Which happens off-screen for my own delight.

They helped to get Varian and Andrew out of jail. And helped Saporians to take over Corona, until things went too far and they tried to convince Varian to turn against Andrew, to no avail. Cue to Varian and Aiden having their sort of 'break up'. Once the whole ordeal is handle by Rapz and co, the two teens decides to give their friendship another try, they still do care about the other a lot, but the subject still stains their relationship a little, even through vat7k

I've been rewritting my own version of Vat7k for the 5th time and explaining everything would take forever :'D help. But there' s like... A whole other quest that results in finding the eternal library but is kind of more important for the world- It's a forever work in progress...

Var and Add are back to being close friends when Vat7k starts. Except that while Aiden is repressing their feelings, Varian is slowly accepting his. Cue to Varian clearly flirting with Aiden but the other keep on dismissing it.

Aiden's reason for joining Varian through his journey is because : 1-something is wrong with the magic and witches started to get weaker, they hope to find the cause and a cure. and 2- their mentor really wants to retire but Aiden doesn't feel ready to take his place yet, so they kinda run away from the responsability by following Varian

Aiden's story is a lot about accepting their disability, learning to put their needs before others and learning to trust themself.

At first they kinda fall for Hugo as a way to get over Varian (he looks like fun).

Upon discovering Hugo got feelings for Varian, Aiden immediately started to play wingman for the two. Drama ensued.

They got a crossbow because they needed to find a way to help while staying at a distance.

Aiden sees Yong and Nuru as younger siblings. The whole team enjoy bantering with one another but if anyone is in danger they would not hesitate to destroy things. Aiden is closer to Nuru than to Yong though, they relate to each others in multiple ways, and Yong finds Aiden can be a bit too uptight.

Aiden learnt about their heritage and got to see how shitty their father's family is like. Said family tries to get Aiden to stay with them at ALL COST. Resorting to brainwashing at some point.

Their magic got unlocked and they got their purple eyes back definetly at that point. The tattoo is gone.

the relationship between Aiden, Hugo and Varian is pretty vague when they get back to the Light Kingdom but they are aware of each others feelings to an extent- and it almost becomes a thing! Then Donella comes back to fuck shit up-

When Varian locks himself in the eternal library Aiden was against going after him right away, they wanted to give him time to cool off and to get back to his senses on his own.

Fun fact. Since Aiden never really got the chance to learn how to do magic properly the "final battle" is genuinely.. terrible. They do try to use their power but at some point they kinda give up and just shoot "Ulla" (so Varian's body) with their crossbow. Nothing too bad no worries.-

End of Vat7k.

Once they get "proper" rest, Aiden goes back to being a physician for the crown and gets back to work right away because Rapunzel is pregnant and their mentor basically leave them a note like "your turn now, good luck 😋✌"

Varian Hugo and Aiden get officially together after all of that, the three of them. They told no one at first (except Quirin and Aiden's parents) just to mess with everyone.

I'll stop there for the story because my drawings are mostly around this period. And the rest is barely written at all yet but more shenanigans with Aiden's family happen and Donella comes back to be a bother as well. Results in Aiden's father dying and Hugo loses his right hand.

More facts :

Aiden's green ribbon in that ref sheet is from one of Hugo's dresses. Even when their hair got short they kept wearing it as a bracelet.

Aiden is from a lineage of mind witches (yeah its hypnosis basically). Their power impacts the mind. It can be used as an 'enhancement' (making someone believe they're stronger than they are or making them unable to feel pain), or to create illusions only the affected person can see. Mind control or brainwashing is possible but takes a lot of energy and practice. And each members has their set of rules to be able to use such power.

They can also like.. See the flow of magic and some other stuff. But that's a thing for most witches

Yong and Nuru are witches as well (so I could keep their original eye colors). I haven't fully decided on what kind exactly yet- but I have ideas.

Aiden does learn how to use their magic a bit better and sometimes use it on their patient as an anesthesia. They also use magic to help Hugo and Varian fall asleep every now and then.

They don't like lying but they're good at turning the truth in their favor. They enjoy playing with words.

This is for the main universe/timeline ! Because I have many AUs and 'what ifs' and since I keep on rewriting things I kept old versions as 'other timelines'- voilaa

#I TRIED TO KEEP IT BRIEF I SWEAR #DKDJDJDH THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭 💕#I didn't expect anyone to be interested so I just... Throw drawings into the wild with no contexts #Eryanswers #Anon #Vat7k oc #Vat7k aiden #Eryanwrites #Maybe I should make a masterpost with links to infos about every AUs... Mmmmhhhh #tangled oc #tts oc

12 notes · View notes