#and despite having the chance to go with them rhys stays behind saying its not just them

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Kinda sad how nowadays Doctor Who will never be able to do a scene like the scene of Gwen, Rhiannon and the kids fleeing the army while Rhys and other men in the neighborhood with eventually Andy fight back against the army. Because lord knows with the UK's constant army adverts lately, that the BBC won't the army be the bad guy in Doctor Who again.

[bloodycassian]

COLD NIGHTS - Cassian x Azriel x Reader - Prompt: 

hi i love your work so much!!! I was thinking a cassian x azriel x reader (i just love them sm, why have one when you can have two ) where the reader is sister of a high lord maybe day or winter court, and reader goes missing (kinda angsty) and her brother (a high lord) panics and goes to the night court for help (bc if her two bat boys can’t find her who will)  and az and cassian go full on panic mode and search for the reader, i was also thinking a fluffy cute ending where reader is just cuddling with azriel and cassian while her wounds heal take as much time as you need to write this, don’t pressure yourself. Take care lovely

Kallis would never forget the screams. The terror and panic that rushed through him when he realised that you were gone.  He sent half the city to search for you. He called upon Helion to inspect the magic. He was frantic in finding you. But it was like you had just disappeared out of nowhere. No sign of struggle, not a drop of blood spilled. The offender was sloppy in their ways, but their magic was strong. Helion could sense it.  They had a deathwish from Kallis himself if he ever found them. +  The first thing you saw were your cracked and bloody hands. They were split open from the dry cold wind. Sea air drifted into the cave. The cold brutal howling outside mixed with the roar of waves breaking confirmed your nightmares. Cape Tragedy. 

The islands off the coast of winter were known for their unforgiving nature to ships. Hence their name, Cape Tragedy. Also known as the Tragic coast, no stories were ever heard of any survivors of those crashes. If they had managed to survive the churning water, then the false salvation of the islands would kill them. It happened often enough that there were lighthouses set atop many of the bigger islands for ships to avoid on stormy days.

You coughed from the dry air, earning a pair of yellow eyes to dart to you. One of the three lesser fae males noticed you were awake and clapped. "She wakes! We've been waiting for you, sweetheart." His green skin was pale in the overcast light streaming in from the mouth of the cave. Snow Bear pelts lay all around. A disgrace in your culture. No citizen of Winter court would do such a thing. You looked to the walls to find weapons, and strange markings along the stone. Sailors from far away lands. 

Not even sailors. Pirates. A chill ran through you.  

"We're going to get your weight in gold, pretty one." The scaled male curled a piece of your hair behind you ear. Your stomach turned, and you tried to scoot away. "My brother will kill you first. And he'll take a long time doing it." You promised, trying to make your voice sound strong. Terror had you by it's grip though, and it was hard to do anything other than panic

. "Your brother? The pretty one that shears the Elk?" The green one asked. You laughed, and then were hissing in pain when the scaled male yanked on your hair. "What's so funny?" 

"You think my brother is an elk herder?" You spat "You must be dumber than you look." The males glanced between each other, then to the one who hadn't said anything yet.

"Who ye think you are then?" The male holding your hair stammered, trying to keep his panic under wraps. 

"Kallis' sister." You said with deadly calm. "And the high lord does not negotiate." 

"If you're so noble why you got such a mouth on ye?" The third male finally spoke.

They laughed.

"Maybe we will see just how much of a mouth-" He started again. He didnt have a chance to finish his disgusting words. You kicked, bending an ice spear straight up from the rocky ice floor and through the third male's body. Then the beating from the other two came. 

They bound your wrists and ankles in rope and tar. Their hands shook when they did it. It gave you a small bit of satisfaction. The potion they gave you to knock you out was just barely strong enough. You fought it as best you could, but it won. You could only hear the faint sounds of arguing then a crash of glass, then the cold winds whipping around you. And when you woke, your body ached.  The cold bit into your limbs. Your fingers were pale. Far too pale to be healthy. You knew frostbite when you saw it. Your body refused to move under your own power. Your blood was frozen to the icy ground. They had used a potion and transported you to a peninsula, and you could only faintly hear the ocean below. You could feel the potion wearing off, but you knew you weren't healing. Not yet. You reached down into your own mind, picking up the fading tendrils of power. Of your bond to the two you knew could save you. And you pulled as hard as you could manage.  --- "Fuck." The roaring thought shook Cassian awake. Bleary eyed, he glanced about the room as if there was someone actually shouting at him.  Then he felt it. The weak tug that had been silent for so long. And he knew it was nothing good. Frenzied, he met Azriel at the dining area. Where they spent the rest of the night planning, deducing a probable reason for you to be calling so weakly. They sent their worries to Rhys, but they were shooed away. "I'm researching. Meet me in the library at dawn." The two males tried to comfort each other. But the worry pulsating through the bond was too much to focus on. So they waited. Kallis appeared that morning. He spat his story and begged for help, practically in tears as he spoke to the three Illyrians. Cassian and Az knew something was wrong the moment you were attacked. Court laws forbade them interfering on Winter Court territory though.  As soon as the approval was given, the brothers winnowed to the border of Winter and started flying. + You were coming to terms that you would die in the cold. You had imagined death differently. Battle was the primary way you thought you'd die. Or at the end of a High Lord's magic for being too much of an advisor. Smiling at the memory of putting Tamlin in his place, you gave another tug down the bonds to your mates. And like a snap, they both tugged back. Almost in unison. It was hard to tell. You closed your eyes, listening to the soft waves below. They lulled you into a cold sleep yet again.  + Despite the cold, the Illyrians flew as fast as they could. They could sense your light fading, and chased it for mile after mile. Their wings cut through the harsh winter winds, fueled by rage and desperation. Then they spotted the dark figure frozen to the snow below. Cassian landed first, a few feet away. The ice cracked beneath him. "Get us out of here." He growled to Azriel.  "We need to make sure she's okay before we move."  Cassian growled, but didn't protest. Azriel understood. He felt the anguish and frustration through the shared bond. Az's hands pressed gently to your neck, checking your pulse. He swore. "Baby, we need you to wake up for us. We're here. We got you." Cassian put a hand to your cheek and fought back the tears that threatened.  You groaned in response. They both sighed in relief, their breath making clouds in front of them. "I'm stuck..." You managed through your stiff jaw.  Cassian stroked a thumb over your cheek. "Stuck? Honey you're-"  "Cas..." Azriel nodded to your side, to the ice that crept its way up your damp clothes. Azriel could have taken a very very long time torturing the beasts that did this to his mate. The rage coiled in his gut at the sight of your injuries. The only reason you hadn't bled out was the blood and water mix turning your wounds to ice.  Cassian pulled at the ice web that encapsulated you. Under the heat of his rage it broke, and broke and broke. Azriel placed small patches of his shield over your frostbitten fingers. "We're gonna get you out of here. Just stay still." Azriel smoothed back your hair, and darkness swirled over you. The change from the harsh overcast light of Winter court to the soft sun of Night court was jarring.  Madja put her hands on you and you were asleep in an instant. Her warm hands were a blessing from the Mother.  +  "She's lucky she has that Winter blood in her or she'd be dead." Madja wiped her hands off and handed both the Illyrians a small vial. "That is the scrap from a poisoned sword that broke off in her shoulder. I got all the pieces out, but the poison lingers. It may heal slowly, but it should get better."  Anguish burned both of their stomachs. Azriel's throat tightened and he looked away, but gripped the vial tightly. Cassian stared at it, his eyes murderous. Madja left without another word. "She was almost killed. And we couldn't do anything." Cassians' voice was low, with violence dripping from it. "We need her here. In Velaris where we can... watch her." He didn't know what he was saying, but the instinct to protect was overriding every other logical thought he had. Anger burned and burned in his stomach, swallowing him with rage. He could feel Az mirroring the same feeling, but with a cold deadliness that begged to simmer out of him.  "You know she wont go for that. She loves her home too much. Her brother." Azriel whispered back. "We're her mates. She should be with us." Cassian was looking for a fight. All the tension and anger of the day had to be worked out. Azriel felt it too. His shadows ran anxiously through the room.

The wind outside howled. It shifted the dark clouds that covered the moon. It seemed to be a cold day in all of Prythian. A cold day in your mates hearts to the pirates that had taken you. They spoke their rage mind to mind, imagining the ways to torture the bastards. 

How to find them would be the first priority. Azriel kept circling back to that part. + The healer cleared his throat at the door. "She's asking for you." He nodded to Rhys' brothers. They left Rhys behind in unison, walking in perfect step with each other. Their minds hummed together over that bond they shared with you. "Protect protect protect." They both seemed to demand.  Azriel knocked softly, his heart flipping when he heard your voice again. "Get in here." You demanded, giving them a broad smile when they practically shoved each other out of the way. 

"Come keep me warm." You weakly folded the blanket back, exposing some of the bruising on your skin. 

They complied with enthusiasm. Azriel's hands were cold at first, but they got better when he reached around you to hold Cassian closer. They worked in tandem to keep you covered, making sure that you weren't too crowded or too warm. Azriel summoned his cool shadows when you got too warm and had to kick the blankets off. Cassian's warm breath would keep you warm when they became too much. You traced Azriel's cheekbones, the sharp edge of his jaw while falling alseep. Cassian's muscled forearms hugging you from behind were like a heavy pillow. 

"Rest now, we can have more fun later." Az winked, making your stomach flutter. Cassian groaned and pulled you further to his lap. You tried not to think of the hardness that pressed to you now.  "Goodnight." The shadowsinger kissed your forehead and like a light, you were out. Finally resting peacefully wrapped between your two mates and their warm bond you all shared. 

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

If you find me on the edge, we’ll jump together.

Pirate au pt 4

azriel was so insanely close to sucker punching berdara. but unfortunately the bargain forbid him from hurting her until after they found the huge hall

he was heading towards his own ship when gwyneth stopped him. “pick your best men I can fit 5 maximum of you on my ship” 

“and why exactly are we taking your ship” 

“and why are you determined to be difficult” he nearly laughed at that, him difficult when she had spent the last 10 minutes toying with him at every chance. 

“I am determined to be fair, we’ll play for it” 

that peaked her interest as her eyes went wide “sword fighting, combat, cards, good old fashioned fists?!?” what was with this girl and fighting.

“uh no I was going to suggest rock paper scissors.” 

“who hurt you to make you so damn boring” 

“who made you a masochist” 

gwyneth didn’t falter for a second “wouldn’t you like to know” she said with a lazy grin

“so majesty are we going to play or not?” 

“best of three”

she put her fist up in answer. 

once again I’ll cut to the chase, after many rounds and accused cheatings azriel won 

“Oh fuck off” she grumbled while he smirked triumphantly 

“that’s not very nice gwyneth” obviously her response was to give him the finger

“bite me” 

“don’t give me any ideas” 

“do what you need to do we leave at dawn” 

“you’re going to be a delight on my ship aren’t you” 

“always am” with that they went back to their respective crews and ships to prepare. 

now that she had left to her own ship azriel thought over what had just happened. he wasn’t so much of a fool that he couldn’t admit she was  beautiful, with hair of flaming locks and a slightly insane look in her eye. there was something about her that despite being incredibly violent she radiated a certain amount of joy. every insult, every quip was said with a bright smile on her face. and she had pinned him with an alarming amount of ease but he wouldn’t let that happen a second time

and fucking hell he had made a bargain. well he knew for sure this journey was going to be something else alright 

on the shadowsinger azriel made an announcement to his crew “everyone sit your asses down and listen up. 5 ladies from the silver majesty are coming aboard our ship to assist us in our search for the huge hall. I am under bargain that no harm will come to any of them, so by affiliation every person aboard the shadowsinger is under the same bargain. you have any questions, take it up with rhys and cassian. I have shit to do in preparation for this voyage and to make sure our other ‘business partners’ stay up and running in our absence. do not bother me” 

about an hour later he was once again alone in his chambers with his first mate and quartermaster. 

“so you really believe they can lead us to it” cassian asked

“I believe that she made a bargain and knows the severity of a bargain.” 

“you bound yourself to the captain of our biggest rival, who you currently want to murder, captain I trust you with my life but I hope you know what you’ve gotten us into” rhys ever the strategist 

I hope so to he thought instead he said “I have thought over every possible outcome and we will come out of this with the huge hall and their heads strung up like trophies nailed to the wall.” 

————— gwyn’s pov at the same moment—————

alright crew fortunately the shadowsinger is on board, pun not intended, unfortunately I lost rock paper scissors and now I will be choosing 5 of us to join them in our hunt for the huge hall. so Em, archeron, VIv, and cressieda you guys are coming with me, bring only as many weapons as you can fit on your person. nuala cerridwen you guys are in charge. if everything is not in order by the time I get back I will start slitting throats. there are instructions in my chambers. so fuck, drink, steal, kill you guys know the drill.” 

gwyn sat with nesta and emerie strategizing 

“how do you see this playing out” nesta asked 

“oh we are going to walk away from this bleeding money with the shadowsinger kneeling at our feet” 

------------------------back to azriel’s pov------------------------

azriel watched as for the first time since he had become a pirate, there were women on his ship indefinitely. to gwyneth’s right stood a tall slender women, with her hair in a simple braid, she was assessing his ship with eyes that looked far too old for her age

to berdara’s left was a thin women with eyes that cut through him, they were sharp and very resentful. she was devastatingly beautiful with two katanas at her hips. behind them were two women with white hair but their differences lay in their skin tone. one had the fair skin of the winter court while the other had dark skin that contrasted her hair marking her as from the summer court. 

azriel looked over to his own crew. cassian was starring at the female with the swords practically drooling over himself while rhys looked indifferent. 

lucien was also starring at the women to gwyneth’s left but he looked at her like he recognized her rather then whatever the fuck cassian was doing 

the women noticed cassian and immediately threw a dagger at his head. it didn’t miss by much. 

“hey!” cassian shouted. “if you had chopped off my hair I swear to fucking god I will rip out your throat like its nothing” 

the girl looked him up and down and ignored him. “really you could have killed me”

so obviously she threw another one. it fell right between his arm and ribs

“berdara can I have a word please?”

“of course”

“rhys please make sure they don’t kill each other” 

“no promises” he replied not looking up

gwyn followed him into his room. 

“so shadowsinger, what do you want to talk about?” she gave him a light punch on the shoulder. he glared at her

“what do I want to talk about? hmm how about that girl just threw a dagger at my quartermaster. twice!”

“ok 1 that girls name is nesta and 2 if she wanted him dead he would be. so I consider that a great success” gwyn smiled earnestly. 

“are you forgetting the bargain we just made?”

“clearly threats were not taking off the table or have you forgotten ‘i will dump you in the river’ or ‘i’m going to shoot you in the head’ or ‘i will leave your guts across the 7 courts’ etc. hers was just a little more physical thats all.” 

“well can you try to control your crew” cheap shot but worth it, until gwyn broke out into a fit of laughter.

“me? control nesta? I thought you said you’ve heard the stories, you must have heard about the time she climbed 6 mountains in 5 different courts to find a man who ripped her off by 2 coppers. coppers! and I was all ‘that’s my girl’  because if there was one thing I’ve learned in this business it would be that men will take every single opportunity to tear you down but they can’t do that if they don’t have limbs.” 

“great so your entire crew is just as insane as you are”

“we maybe insane but at least we aren’t crying over every dagger that comes within an inch of our hearts.” 

“yes I’m sorry we would rather not fucking die”

“oh poor you, you must be a truly terrible pirate if death doesn’t stop at your door every once in a while.” 

“you know I am very much regretting working with you at this moment”

“wait you aren’t in love with me? shocker.” gwyn’s whole demeanor changed and she brightened as if some realization struck. “but that reminds me I was told I need your help to find the treasure and I certainly don’t need more man power so how will you be contributing?”

“I had thought about that and I was think about something you-”

“aww you think about me?” azriel rolled his eyes

“I was thinking about something you said and I would like you to elaborate on the blank map.”

“no please?”

“please” he forced out 

“well my informant who found me the map has never been wrong before and my witch says it reeks of magic.” 

“you think its spelled.” 

“I do”

“and you think I am going to help you uncover the magic?”

“indubitably” azriel was kind of impressed by her certainty

“aren’t you?”

“yes” he grumbled

“thought so, I’m smart like that.” 

“of course you are perfect in every way possible” 

“look any other day I would love for you to shower me in accurate compliments but we are kind of on a time crunch” 

“yes majesty”

“you know what its kind of growing on me, I too consider myself a queen” 

az ignored that and went to his closet. he opened the doors and unlocked the safe taking out the only thing in there. it was a small vile that contained a vibrant blue liquid. he gently carried it over to gwyn

“this is the last liquid fashioned by the last pheonix to ever exist”

“oh my fucking god you have pheonix piss” gwyn was practically jumping with glee. 

“I mean I wouldn’t exactly put it that way but yes, the liquid of the pheonix was said to act as a serum to reveal ones truth. it should be powerful enough to break through any ward or spell. and while mostly used on people it should work on objects too.”

“wait wait wait, that could get you millions and you’re going to use it on this??”

“who’s drooling now? yes it could but this hall could get me more and I’d prefer it not in the hands of certain people.”  

“alright I mean not really how I operate but it’s yours so you can do whatever you want with it.” “glad you approve, map?” gwyn cautiously pulled out the blank map and set it down on the table. 

he opened the vile and began to pour it over the map, praying that this would not be in vain. the vile had cost him greatly. he looked down and gwyn stole the words from his mouth “holy fucking shit.”

[plato-pluto-whatever]

Oops you think I'm in love

Late night brainstorming and I wrote a stupid lil thing for @skxtchyghost about one of the tropes I remembered while mindlessly scrolling Instagram. (thanks for being my muse and also letting me simp a lot ILY)

Jack thinks he can have everything, including you. Little does he know, you're the only person in the six galaxies who can crush his ego so effortlessly.

And yes, it's based off the song "Oops I Did it Again". Bite me.

__________

Rhys lays a kiss on your cheek just before you two separate. You both decide that it's the best decision for the night as that makes it easier to meet new people. But you know that if you have to, you'll make it known you're taken.

"Stay safe," he whispers and grins, stealing a kiss from your lips and handing you a heavy glass of booze. "And keep a watch on your glass."

You nod, brushing off his suit with one hand. You fix the collar of his stark black shirt and make sure the napkin put into his jacket's beast pocket is sitting just right. He does the same to you, then walks off with a wink. A simple display of affection from him indeed.

The music soon picks up, and you look towards the far end of the stairs leading into the second floor of the casino, to see Handsome Jack standing at the top. People applaud him, and you don't stand out. After all, he's a man that's built himself quite a fortune from barely anything. Something to be admired if you’re honest. Though it seems like his ego has inflated along with his wallet and bank account.

After a long speech that you didn't even bother listening to, you sip on your drink while sitting back near one of the slot machines, body turned towards where Jack was. He's starting to come down the stairs, more and more details of his expensive suit visible; the intricate ornaments made with golden string and the golden chain of a pocket watch tucked into his vest pocket only being a couple of many. Still not paying much attention to the casino owner, you're surprised when he comes into your view, towering over your frame. An intimidating yet intriguing sight. You’re tarting to wonder just ho it actually feels to bask in that kind of wealth daily.

"Good evening," he grins, teeth showing. A smile that's well known to everyone on the six galaxies. How kind of him.

You stand up, offering him a hand that he takes and kisses the back of instead of shaking. Something he certainly doesn't do to many people. You haven't seen him do that before at least.

"And what have I done to be blessed with the presence of something as ethereal as you?" he coos. You can't lie, he's charismatic. Certainly someone who could get anyone and anything he wanted. Not like his choices were narrow either because of said charisma. You’re sure he could breathe in the general direction of a group of people and they would throw themselves at him.

Rhys had mentioned you give off ethereal energy like that of deities, but you always thought it just was his corny self talking. Could it be real?

"I always come to right places at the right time," you flash back a smile, and there's a sparkle in his eyes for a moment. A sparkle of someone who’s been completely captivated by you, unable to peel their eyes from you and most certainly helpless under your charm.

Maybe you don't need to gamble to win a jackpot. They say house always wins, but could you outplay the house? Rhys would be on board, surely. He’s been dreaming about seeing Jack ache for something he can’t have after said man has put himself back into an organic human body.

"Don't make me fall in love again, dear," Jack shoots back, dramatically fanning himself with his hand while pulling at his shirt collar.

You take a risk and trail and x right over his heart. Touching Jack without permission could result in biting a bullet on spot, but you're confident you've discovered his weakest spot: yourself. A cocky, confident casino owner, the CEO of Hyperion and the richest man in the six galaxies is under your thumb without realizing it, and you want to have some fun with it.

His eyes dart between your finger and your face for a moment before you speak up.

"Or what, sir? I thought you're a man with nothing to lose."

He holds your chin and leans it up to make you look at him, different colored eyes burning through into your mind as he tries figuring out what is it that makes him so weak for you. His eyebrows furrow a little, gears spinning in his head. You’re sure he’s just as surprised about the effect you have on him.

"I can show you just how much if you come with me," he hisses as though every moment of keeping his cocky, narcissistic stance around you is physically straining.

You smile sweetly and nod, saying nothing. A devilish expression flashes across Jack's face, one of a man who knows he can get everything he wants. Or rather thinks that. He lays a hand on your back, leading you both back up the stairs where he came from. You glance back over your shoulder to almost immediately catch Rhys's eyes, one of which is flaming an angry orange. You wink in a reassuring way and he visibly relaxes.

He had heard you talk about what you'd do to Jack if you had the chance, but neither of you thought that'd ever be possible. After all, what are the odds that the richest man alive would take interest in you? That’s right, near zero.

Eventually, you two make your way to Jack's room, which is probably larger than your entire house back on earth. It's dimly lit, windows looking out into the outer space: dark and infinite, yet comforting despite its cold. The room gives off a very faint smell of cigarettes, as well as expensive aged drinks and faint cologne. A closet is just barely open, a sheen of expensive fabrics visible behind the doors. That man could truly get anything he wanted.

Jack shuts the door behind you, and the noise from the casino is dampened to a quiet murmur. His breathing is visibly heavier as he's hanging onto the last remaining shreds of control he has. His eyes are getting darker by the second, pupils blowing wide open in an almost animal-like manner.

"It's like you're a deity that came down to bless me," he seethes and his hand lands on the back of your neck.

Just as the man leans in to undoubtedly kiss you, you quickly press a finger to his lips. A look of surprise crosses his face. How dare anyone refuse him? Refuse Handsome Jack?

You bite your lip with a smile that looks like it's about to split your face in half. The speakers in his room cut to music. You know Rhys is behind this. The plan to teach Jack that he’s just full of it and can’t get everything he wanted is going flawlessly and is enough to make your heart pound against you’re chest. You’re sure you would have already bitten one more bullet if Jack wasn’t completely infatuated by your presence alone and hadn’t thought of even laying a hand on his pistol.

Jack's expression falls more and more with each passing second as the music plays, cocky, confident and hungry expression twisting into pure fury.

"Oops, I did it again,

I played with your heart,

Oops, you got lost in the game,

Oh, baby, baby,

You think I'm in love

That I'm sent from above,

I'm not that innocent."

All that's left on his face is a look of utter disbelief when you rip the door open behind you and dart back out into the casino lodge. You're at the bottom of the stairs with Rhys approaching when Jack comes back into sight.

Jack's cheeks are flushed a bright, angry red, his eyebrows furrowed with a thin layer of sweat forming above them as he furiously looks around for you. Once his eyes lock on to you, he's almost at the bottom of the stairs when you pull Rhys by the front of his shirt and kiss him hard, right in front of Jack. Rhys smiles against your lips, one eye open for a brief moment to photograph the bewildered expression of the casino owner. Then he pulls you closer, one hand combing through the back of your hair with other wrapped around your midsection securely.

The house always wins? You’re not so certain about that anymore.

[houseofhurricane]

ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (21/28) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: With Tamlin and Vassa on the brink of death, is there anything Elain can do to save them? You can find all previous chapters here, or read Bloom & Bone on AO3. Thank you for reading! ❤️ If you'd like to get an early preview on the next chapter, follow me on Instagram at @house.of.hurricane.

Elain has been pacing the Spring Court estate since Tamlin left, hours before dawn. Her fingers trembled so badly that Mor, come from the Night Court, was forced to button her dress, then forced Elain to sit while Mor held a cup of tea to her lips. Elain could taste the whisky in the mixture but accepted the burn in her throat without complaint, nodded when Mor told her it would be all right. She’d watched Tamlin in battle dozens of times, she said, and the Mother always protected him, you’d think a male so big would be an easy target, but Tamlin always knew exactly where to be, when to wield his magic or his sword or the shape of the beast. Mor’s babbling, Elain knows, and yet her musical voice is so soothing that it’s all she can do to keep herself from begging Mor to stay with her. But she’s here to guard Vassa, to winnow her if Koschei attacks.

She’s let Vassa down enough, Elain knows. She cannot allow her friend to be captured by Koschei, not after seeing what this second captivity has wrought, the way Vassa is crumbling.

So when the queen and the Morrigan go to the lake to await the sun, Elain stays in the estate with Lucien, alert to every sound. Finally, he retreats to the library after placing a spell on her that will alert him to the presence of another living being, and Elain takes to the halls again, her heels clicking on the marble and the old stone. Normally she would linger at the windows, comfort herself with the view of the flowers and her endless hypotheses about how to improve the garden, but now the blooms are a smear of color in her vision, refusing to become distinct and consoling.

She spends an hour in the kitchen, letting Cook boss her through the baking of the day’s bread, but eventually he shoos her away for over-kneading the dough.

If she had not promised Tamlin otherwise, she would go to the Autumn Court, no matter that the only places she knows are likely already in the thick of battle. If only she could see him for a few more moments, she thinks, striding through the estate one more time.

Mid-stride, the pain hits her. The agony begins on the left side of her torso, the place where her waist curves, and then it consumes Elain whole, a blaze of agony.

The pain makes her silent, drives her hands into fists so tight that blood seeps from between her fingers, from where her nails have punctured her palm.

“Lucien,” she breathes through the pain, though perhaps it is a scream, “someone has cast a spell on me.”

Though she can see no magic around her, detect nothing with her own powers. The attack from Koschei has begun, she realizes, and when she disappears out of the world, even though the pain remains, flaring and ebbing, she waits to hear his voice, feel the spark and crackle of his powers.

Instead she appears outside her room in Feyre and Rhys’s river house, and Rhys is muttering, “if you die like this, it’s going to look as if I killed you, and we both know this isn’t how I would kill you,” and then, despite the fire that clamps its jaws tighter on her, Elain runs until she reaches Tamlin, nearly falling out of Rhys’ arms. She knows exactly how far they’ve walked by the thick trail of blood, a shocking red against the gleaming floor.

“Get Madja,” she orders Rhys, reaching for Tamlin, a challenge in her eyes. She won’t ask what happened. There is no chance that Rhys would have left a losing battle with Tamlin instead of Cassian or Azriel. Which means that Tamlin had some plan he didn’t divulge to her. But she will be angry with him later.

Now, she only tells Rhys that she can bear Tamlin’s weight and braces herself for him, his head coming to rest on her shoulder, the blood of his injury warm on her hip. She presses her hand over the gash, walking him step by agonizing step to her bedroom, murmuring, you’re all right and hold on and please, Tamlin, please until none of those words have any meaning and her voice sounds like a shrill whine in her ears.

Finally, they reach the bedroom and she eases him as gently as she can onto her bed, pressing with all her might on his side, the magic in the wound sparking against her own. Koschei was behind this attack somehow, of this Elain is certain.

But as she presses on the wound, calling her magic up inside herself, willing it through her fingers in a golden glow, the pain in Elain’s side recedes.

She can still feel Tamlin’s blood, hot and throbbing against her palm, but Koschei’s magic is gone. All she can detect is Tamlin’s own magic, and Rhys’, where he tried his best to throw a patch on the damage.

There is still so much blood, though. Enough that a man would be dead. Elain has never much liked the sight or smell of blood, but she pushes through the bile that rises in her throat, presses her hands hard against Tamlin’s side, willing his blood to stay inside his body, for his own rapid healing to begin. Hoping it will be quick enough.

“You need to live,” she tells him, “because I want to scream at you for whatever made you decide to sacrifice yourself. And then I want to apologize for all the times I told you to do something, to lead your court. Because I didn’t realize it would hurt me so much to see you like this.”

She can still feel the warmth of the blood trying to escape his body, and Tamlin’s eyelids don’t so much as flutter. Despite his tan from so many hours spent outside, his skin is pale, going blue and gray, as if shadows have begun to claim him.

“I could’ve lived with the pain in my side,” she goes on, as if he had been listening to her, “but the pain in my heart at losing you is too much. I can follow you to the realm where the dead go, and if you die today you will find me in that world. But I want to know what it would be like to be with you in this world and unafraid. So you need to hold tight to whatever binds you here and live.”

She sets free a pulse of magic through him, not sure if it will do any good, but there is no answering gush of blood, and she hears a steadier breath leave Tamlin’s lungs. The seconds drag on and Elain holds her hands to the wound, alert to Koschei’s magic.

When the hand presses to the back of her neck, cool and dry, Elain screams.

Then she registers Madja’s scent, the calming herbs that seemed to have seeped into the healer’s skin.

With a practiced gesture, Madja slips her hands around Elain’s, then replaces them, pressing on the wound. Her magic, a white glow, surrounds Tamlin's side, spreads itself across his body.

“It is only his flesh that is harmed,” Madja says, and her voice is equal parts calming and annoyed. “I had thought from the state the High Lord was in, that there was a magical catastrophe of some kind.”

“Koschei’s magic was in the wound. It felt spiky and strange, like lightning in the air but more… evil, somehow.”

“There is nothing like that in this wound. Not even a trace of that kind of magic. I sense yours, and his, and the High Lord’s awful attempt at healing. It is as if that magic has not existed in this world, Lady.”

“You can call me Elain, Madja,” she responds, which is what she always tells the healer despite no evidence that Madja will listen, but behind her words, Elain’s mind is whirling. That she could remove Koschei’s magic from this world. There are a thousand things that she could do with that power, beginning with freeing Vassa from her curse.

She’s dimly aware of Madja’s magic as she wields it on Tamlin, knitting his flesh together, which Elain feels now in her own body, an easing inside her, the banishment of pain. She finds herself clutching at Tamlin’s hand, feeling the pulse at his wrist protesting her tight grip.

Yet inside, her mind works through the implications of this new facet of her power. This magic of Koschei’s was weaker than what she’d previously encountered, and untethered to Tamlin. It reminds her most of Beron’s magic when he interrupted the meeting of the other High Lords, and of course Koschei would have had to offer something to cement a continued alliance with the Autumn Court. Helion and Lucien could help her finesse her powers, will spend happy hours bickering over the best way to navigate the curse on Vassa.

This time, when she squeezes Tamlin’s hand, it’s because she is eager for all that awaits her, the unfolding of her plan. And this time, his fingers reach out and squeeze hers, and Elain can’t contain the little shout of joy that rises in her throat.

“Will he be all right?” she asks Madja.

“He will be weak for a few days while his body heals,” the healer says, applying a fragrant bandage to the wound, “but then it will be as if he were never harmed.”

Later, Elain will hear about the victory at the Autumn Court, how Eris claimed his throne and how Helion and the Lady of Autumn absconded to the Day Court, and joy will rise inside her, mixed with relief. But now, as Madja tightens the bandages and checks her handiwork, as color returns to Tamlin’s face, premature as it may be, this is when Elain rejoices.

&

&

&

Exhaustion robs Vassa of most of her capacity for celebration. When Elain and Tamlin are returned to the Spring Court after the battle by Rhys, who recounts everything that has happened to Lucien and Vassa and the Morrigan, who has remained faithful to her duties as a guard, the most Vassa can manage is a smile that reveals her teeth. She wants to lean in to Lucien, pillow her head with his shoulder, but even the idea of the pain of that gesture will involve robs the desire from her, sends her to the opposite corner of the couch, tucked into herself so that there is less of her to touch.

She wants to rejoice for Eris but she worries about the curse on him, which Lucien says resembles the architecture of her own. Koschei feels only a whisper away, the grip of his magic so strong that it seems as if his own hands brush against her, polluting her. But she does not have the resolve to point this out to the grinning members of the Night Court, not after Morrigan’s bright chatter kept her distracted all day, and Vassa does not have the capacity to tear at the fragile hope in Rhys’s eyes. She should have the strength to hold Lucien close and allow him to mourn or celebrate the deaths of his other brothers however he wants, but it’s as if a thousand sleepless nights now press in on her, painful and muffling, so that she can only think of what she requires in each moment. And the idea of holding Lucien close, letting his touch cause her pain, is beyond what Vassa can currently bear.

Instead, after Rhys and the Morrigan leave, she hovers at the threshold of Tamlin’s room, where Elain has carefully arranged him on the bed. Lucien has quickly established himself on a deep armchair, his feet propped up on a low table as he works on a worn parchment which Vassa knows quite well. It contains a detailed analysis of her curse.

“You don’t know if the bond played a role,” Lucien is saying to Elain, who looks up from the fragrant compress she’s laid on Tamlin’s forehead just long enough to wrinkle her nose in annoyance.

“Even if it did, I don’t see how this isn’t worth a try.”

“You’re very sure of yourself for someone who learned this power moments ago.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“You know that Lucien is generally right,” Tamlin croaks, and the way Elain’s fingers reach for his jaw, trace the line the bones make under his skin, makes something clench, tender and jealous, inside Vassa.

She steps inside the room and they all turn towards her, her heavy human tread.

“Didn’t you always tell me that everyone underestimates Elain?” Vassa says, summoning levity to her voice, a wink towards Elain. She can tell from Lucien’s expression that he hears the strain anyway.

“I think that it is possible that I can break Koschei’s curse on you,” Elain says, in a voice that is sweet and adorably unsure, though Vassa is predisposed to give those words in any tone a rosy judgement.

“How?”

“Earlier, with my magic, I sent a spell of Koschei’s out of this world and into another. I think that I could do the same with your curse.”

“That was magic Koschei gave to my brother,” Lucien says. “My brothers were--”

“Your brothers were all powerful sons of two powerful High Fae, just like you.” Elain’s words shift between comfort and accusation, a tone Vassa recognizes. One she taught Elain herself.

“Try it now,” Vassa says, walking towards the bed and extending her hand toward Elain. She tilts her palm to the ceiling, the way a queen bestows her favor.

Then Elain steps off the bed and takes Vassa’s hand, and the pain cleaves her completely. It is as if her blood is boiling fire, as if there is an animal inside her, slashing at her with its teeth and claws, as if the world has turned to pandemonium and ragged screaming.

When Vassa finds herself on the floor, Elain and Lucien and Tamlin all staring at her, wide-eyed, she realizes that her throat is raw. That the screams were her own.

“I’m so sorry,” Elain says, and Vassa has to hold herself back from reaching for her.

Because as horrible as that pain was, when Elain reached out to her, there was an end to it. And the pain that Vassa endures every day feels endless, a life sentence.

She does not want to think about what it implies, that she wants Elain to grab her and hold on until the pain stops.

Instead, Vassa summons the depths of her will, assures her fae companions that she is all right, that she would like a few moments alone to collect herself, and manages to keep from collapsing until she reaches her own bed.

&

&

&

“You were going to rip her apart,” Lucien growls, as soon as Vassa is out of earshot, and for a moment Elain is actually afraid of him. She’s never heard him so full of wrath.

Still, she cannot help asking: “What did you see?”

“Did your magic keep you from hearing her screams?” There’s an edge in his voice that threatens tears, wrathful sobs. Still. She had felt the magic rise in her, the will. A possibility that seemed apart from Vassa’s torment. Even in spite of her friend’s suffering, the maelstrom of pain, Elain had almost kept her fingers wrapped in Vassa’s tight grip. Of course, she will not tell Lucien how her friend clung. Perhaps she will never reveal the extent of the queen’s desperation.

“You saw something else,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. She feels Tamlin’s hand on hers, warmer than it was even moments ago, and the luck of it, the fact that he is here in his court and healing, makes her plunge onward. Because she has been trying to pretend that there is plenty of time to break Vassa’s curse, but that is clearly now a lie. “Tell me what you saw, Lucien, and we can try to fix it. We can go to Helion, or--”

Lucien interrupts her with a wave of his hand, lightning between his fingers. So powerful and yet completely unlike Koschei’s magic.

“That curse is interwoven with an essential part of Vassa. When you try to send it into another world, you are ripping that out of her.”

“Can you determine what part it was?”

Lucien’s face has gone pale, his lips yellow-white.

“It was her life, Elain. Her human life.”

“But that’s easy,” she says, not understanding his misery. “We’ll just summon the High Lords. Feyre was a human once.”

“Feyre saved our world and half the High Lords would still kill her to get that bit of their power back, if they didn’t believe she herself would destroy them in the process,” Tamlin says, the words between a groan and a sigh. “Now that they know the cost of such a miracle, you’ll never summon all of them. Not for a human queen who can offer them nothing.”

Elain is preparing a blistering retort when he reaches for her, squeezes her hand.

“If it were my decision alone, Vassa would already be High Fae.”

She dips her head and kisses him, a gentle press of lips that belies the furious workings of her mind. Because the moment Tamlin said her sister’s name, Elain’s own words to Feyre echoed in her mind. Your magic is something new entirely , she’d told Feyre. And isn’t it true of herself, too? Of Nesta?

“As soon as we can get a guard on this house,” she tells Lucien, “we go to the Night Court and then Helion. I have an idea.”

“I won’t let you kill Vassa,” he says, already halfway out the door, feet pointed in the direction of her room.

Elain only nods, doesn’t say that Vassa will surely die without her intervention. It would not be a kindness.

Instead, she turns back to the bed and smooths Tamlin’s hair away from his face, checking for signs of fever and too relieved when she finds none. She forgets, over and over, the fact that they aren’t human, that their lives are no longer so fragile, even in the thick of battle.

“You’re going to have to tell me why you weren’t shielding your forces,” she says, letting frustration suffuse her words.

“Helion and I went to rescue Cybele.” His eyes on hers are steady, no apology in them. “The Summer Court was better equipped to hold a shield against the Autumn Court’s fire.”

“So you had to be a hero?”

“You were angry when I hid in the forest,” he says, a sharp tone in his voice. “This is what it means, to be High Lord. To gain the peace you seek.”

His skin stands out against his white sheets now, and, had she not known the sight of him so well, Elain would think Tamlin unharmed. Still, she can see the exhaustion in his features, the pale cast to his skin.

“I didn’t know it would hurt so much,” she says, her voice breaking as soon as she meets his gaze. “I thought that you were going to die of that wound. That magic.”

“Now you know how it felt for me when Beron took you.” He reaches for her, his thumbs swiping away the tears that have fallen down her cheeks.

“Is it just the mating bond?”

“I--I sometimes think about what it would be, if you left this house. If you left me. The emptiness. And still I think I could… I think you’ve shown me how I could bear it, being alone. Anyway I probably deserve it.”

She lays herself carefully against him, avoiding his injured side, nestling close against his warmth.

“You are much better than I used to think,” she says.

“Better than I was. It isn’t much.” She hates that he won’t take the compliment. Accepting his flaws and failures is one thing, but this sorrow, in the face of his survival, still worries her.

“You were ready to sacrifice yourself for the Lady of Autumn. So that Helion could get away safe, and Rhys would be all right.”

“Who told you all that?” A confirmation in his eyes, the green gone bright as new leaves.

“Vassa was right when she said everyone underestimates me,” she says, taking his hand and sliding his fingers under the bodice of her gown. She does not want to talk about strategy or battle now. What she wants is far more than she can express in words. Not the desire for a man to protect her. More than the fervent kisses they exchange in other worlds. So many things in the world are awful, and Elain is tired and relieved and alive, and what she wants is Tamlin against her, inside of her, somehow still alive with her at the end of this day.

She stretches, allowing his hand to fall, cup her breast, and feels the heat rise in her at his harsh breath.

“I thought we were going to argue,” he says, his thumb pressed against her nipple. She can feel every movement, every hesitation.

“You’re alive,” she says, casting out with her magic to pull the door shut, leaning towards him so that her breasts swell against the neckline of her gown and his fingers are trapped against her soft flesh. “And I will have to go to the Night and Day Courts in the morning.”

In seconds, with his assistance, her dress is undone, landing on the floor with a muffled thump, her undergarments flung alongside, and then Elain reaches for Tamlin, pushing up the soft fabric of his shirt and running her fingers over his skin, the golden hair that’s light on his chest and thicker on his forearms, the muscles of his chest and abdomen, the cock that strains through his pants at the gentle exploration of her fingers.

She’s never touched him there before. She’s never dared.

His lips are on her neck, his teeth against the skin as his thumbs, featherlight, skim her breasts, teasing her soft skin, and she can’t help the moan she looses, the urgency of her own fingers, scrabbling between his back and the wall of pillows she’s constructed.

“Are you all right?” she asks, knowing that in a moment all semblance of consideration will desert her.

He pulls her against him and nods, but she feels his fingers going cold. She pulls her hands from behind him and cups her palms around his fingers, holding them above her heart.

“I’m alive,” he says, a growl edging the words, as if to distract her from the exhaustion in his words. “I’m alive thanks to your magic.”

“I’m never going to let you forget that.” She curls herself beside him, hoping he hears the promise in the words. The declaration in them.

With a groan, he reaches over and tucks the blankets around her, up to her chin, strokes his thumb across her lips.

“You saved me,” he says, and though the weight of the day bears down on her, a thick exhaustion, Elain can’t stop smiling.

&

&

&

Over the next week, the firebird flies less and less, and Vassa spends more of each night in her room, curled up on the bed. Though he tries to hide it, Lucien has taken to sleeping on the floor, rousing himself at the slightest motion before spending his days far away. They’re getting closer to figuring out how to break her curse, he tells her, but Vassa has to work to feign interest, let alone believe him.

In both her human and firebird forms, her body feels as if its wrapped tight with cotton and pain, everything muffled, everything a strain. Elain’s laughter is harsh against her ears, Lucien’s worried looks are cloying and overfilled with pity. She hates that she cannot bear them.

She finds herself, one night, in the doorway of the High Lord’s bedroom, where Tamlin has been forced to wait for his innards to knit themselves together again. Already he looks fully healed to Vassa, but Elain has compelled him to remain in bed and Tamlin is clearly too besotted to put up much resistance.

“I see Lucien and Elain are still away,” he says when she greets him, the words not quite as jovial as he intends. A creature like that, forced into confinement, never rests easy. “Elain barely sleeps. She thinks only of breaking your curse.”

“Do you think that there is hope?” Vassa does not ask about Lucien, who no longer speaks to her about the breaking of the curse, but who is away with Elain, and who stays awake puzzling at all hours over reams of parchment and obscure spellbooks that smell like centuries of dust. Vassa falls asleep and he is leaning over his desk, making annotations, and when she wakes before dawn, she keeps finding Lucien in the same position.

“I believe in Elain,” Tamlin says, his gaze landing on her so powerfully that Vassa is reminded of what it means to be a High Lord, “I think she is only beginning to realize her capabilities. If she says it can be done, I believe her.”

“I am not so sure. I think Lucien has lost hope.” She has not made this confession to Elain or to Lucien himself because she can imagine the vast sadness in their eyes, the onset of grief. That she would be lost to them.

Still, even the sadness in Tamlin’s face is enough to steal her breath. She, who was bred and raised to withstand armies.

“I think Lucien would sacrifice the world if it meant keeping you safe.”

“In the stories,” she says, leaning on the threshold, “you were not nearly so perceptive.”

“If the stories are true, they describe me rightly as a monster.”

“You sacrificed yourself at the Autumn Court. No monster of my acquaintance has ever been so noble.”

“I knew this court would go on without me. The stories say you were beloved in Scythia.”

“All I ever wanted was to rule,” she says, because a queen accepts a compliment gracefully, but it’s been so long since she was last among her people that she’s beginning to wonder if it is true. If the things she’s always thought she wanted are the things she truly wants, now.

“Before you return--” Tamlin begins, but he’s interrupted by a flurry of footsteps, the intake of breath that precedes Elain’s voice.

“We figured out how to break the curse!” she announces, a riot of joy as she sweeps into the room, careful not to make contact with Vassa.

Behind her, Lucien and her sisters take a more sedate walk, and before Vassa steels herself to meet Lucien’s eyes, she takes in the careful void of emotion on Feyre Cursebreaker’s face, as she walks into Tamlin’s bedroom. Vassa knows enough of Prythian gossip to know what a moment this is, even if the tableau is innocent, the High Lord convalescing and his gaze intent on Elain, all pride and delight.

“Is it true?” Vassa makes herself ask, wrenching her eyes on Lucien. The deep violet under his eyes.

She does not miss the look that passes between him and Elain, the weight of it.

Still, he nods.

“When I touch you,” Elain says, her voice gone serious, “the pain is unique because my magic is attempting to pull the curse out of this world and into another, where it cannot harm you. But as part of his adjustments to the spell, Koschei ensured that if I removed the spell, I would shatter your humanity. That’s why I couldn’t take you from this world. I would kill you.”

“I was Made High Fae under similar circumstances,” Feyre says, every inch the High Lady even in her sweater and leggings and boots scuffed with wear. “But after realizing that assembling the High Lords was unlikely, Elain thought that Nesta, who can Make and Unmake, and I, with power of the High Lords, might be able to approximate their capacities. We’ve been determining a theory and practicing the spell and its timing for the past week.”

“ Someone is too slow with her magic,” Nesta interjects, rolling her eyes towards Feyre even as she smiles at Vassa with the confidence of an alpha predator.

If Vassa hadn’t been listening so closely, that would have been the moment she thought that everything would be resolved.

But: “I would be High Fae?”

“The combination of your curse and our magic means that you would have to become something new,” Feyre says, in a voice she no doubt uses on her child when he is so tired that all he can do is sob. The way that Vassa feels now.

All her life, she was raised to be the human queen of Scythia. She had always envisioned herself returning to rule there for the rest of the years that remained to her. Because she grew up learning the history of the faeries of this world. Such a queen would never be recognized, would never be accepted.

She would no longer be Queen Vassa of Scythia. She would no longer be a firebird, or a cursed queen, or a human woman.

She would no longer live with this curse eating its way through her, the fire raging in her veins as it prepares to swallow her whole.

She turns to Lucien, meets his eyes for the first time since he walked in the room. Sees the despair in them, the fear, and the hope. And another emotion, which at this moment Vassa can hardly bear. Still, she does not look away from him, tries to etch his expression into her mind, so that she’ll never forget his russet and gold gaze, which sees everything that makes up this world, the lips she’s kissed a thousand times, the bronze skin and red-orange-gold of his hair. The jagged scar which only highlights the handsome angles of his face and makes him more dear to her, for everything that he’s survived. Her Lucien, with his clever remarks and the wit that makes her cackle with laughter, whispering secrets and endearments to her every night, who has always made her feel as if maybe it were possible to live under this curse, so long as her life was illuminated by his light.

“This magic could kill you,” he says, “or destroy you past the point of recovery.”

She thinks of what it felt like, when Elain touched her this last time. What she might become even if the Archeron sisters are successful.

“How much longer do I have if we do nothing?” She tries to stay calm, not to upset Lucien, but still the words feel jagged in her throat.

“It’s possible that Koschei could reverse the spell,” Elain says, “if we compel him.”

For the first time since she’s entered the room, Tamlin speaks.

“You will not offer yourself to the death-lord,” he growls.

Elain moves toward him, but Vassa reaches toward her first, her fingers grasping for Elain’s wrist. A bolt of pain that shocks through her. The kind of pain that carries its end within itself, which cannot last forever.

Vassa thinks, in a rush, of all those new years she might have with Lucien, should this plan succeed. All the nights where the pain of holding him has overwhelmed her. Who she might be, at the end of this. No more days trapped within the mind of the firebird, no more nights watching the life drip out of her. There will be pain, but maybe, after, there will be something new. A future she has never even allowed herself to imagine.

“Break the curse,” she says.

For the first time in a long while, she sounds like her rightful self.

[typicalmidnightsoul]

Prythian Valley - Chapter 2

Family first?

A big belief amongst people is that until a body is found a missing victim is still alive. But what if the proof that they are dead is photographs of a lifeless body cruelly shared to haunt the minds of the victims loved ones? The murder of the Beddor’s didn’t start with Clare, it ended with her. In this story Nesta will have to ditch the Ice Queen’s crown and take on the guilt of losing her best friend. 

Will one choice of Nesta’s mean death either way?

“Nesta! Nesta!”

Nesta’s eyes opened groggily to see Jonah shaking her awake.

“Hey Jo-Jo what do you need?”

She had come home and fallen asleep on the couch; she looked up at the clock, it read 5:45.

“We’re having a sleepover Nes, you said you’d pick up Nyx!”

She groaned reaching for her heels, “Has Eris dropped Caro off?”

He nodded and a small redhead came in the living room saying,

“Hi Nes,” Caroline smiled; she was Beron’s worst regret, Eris’ most important being and Clarissa Vanserra’s pride.

Nesta grinned at her, “Hey Caro, you settling in?”

She nodded and Nesta turned to Jonah,

“I’ll go pick up Nyx now and Alec should be arriving with Alis any minute so let them in ok?”

He nods ushering her out of the room.

She rolls her eyes and gets into her into her Chevy.

As she pulls up in front of the Narenz villa she sees a pair of excited blue eyes throwing the door open.

“You’re here!”

She ran into Nesta’s arms, as Azriel came out.

“Sorry Az,” she called out, “I fell asleep on the couch.”

He shook his head “it’s fine.” He looked down at Nyx,

“Don’t hassle Nesta too much, ok?” she nodded and Az turned to Nesta, laughing, “How long do you think this sleepover will go for?”

“Well it’s meant to be for 3 days, but considering the last one went on for a week, get ready for Nyx to call you in 3 days’ time begging to stay longer.”

He laughed and kissed Nyx’s cheek, “See you sis.”

Nyx rolled her eyes and got into the passenger seat, “Bye then.”

Nesta chuckled and gave Az a fleeting hug.

As she drove back to her villa she glanced at Nyx,

“So Nyxie, had your first kiss yet?”

“No, I’m just not feeling it with anyone.”

“Good girl,” she said, “First kisses are meant to be important.”

They were silent for a long time, until Nyx said,

“How did you cope?”

Nesta gave her a confused look, “Pardon?”

“When your dad died, and you’re mom went MIA and Feyre had to take care of your family, how did you cope?”

One of the reasons why Nesta loved children was because they were so outspoken, they stated things for how they were, and didn’t mince words. Nesta’s heart broke a bit as she remembered Rhys telling Feyre that he was trying to get Nyx to me their comatose mother in the hospital.

“I didn’t. I broke down completely, shutting out everyone. I wouldn’t have been able to come back if I didn’t have friends and siblings who pulled me out I don’t think I would be driving you today.”

Nesta looked at her, “Can I confide in you?”

Nyx nodded earnestly, “I know what it’s like to look for answers to beg the whole universe for them and never get any. I am grateful for my mom, and I know that I am so lucky to have her but sometimes I get so scared and one of the reasons why I hate Feyre was because she had promised mom she’d take care of us then… she just kind of took her place. And there will never be any-“

“Substitute for mom,” Nyx finished for her.

Nesta smiled despite the words being exchanged,

“My Aunt told me this when I was about your age, and now I’m telling you. The world is in desperate need of people like us. People who feel in extremes, the world needs to be reminded that not all females will put up with men’s bullshit, that we are freshly forged blades able to cut and will at any given chance. I let that die away once Nyxie. Don’t do that.”

She pulled up to Pop’s, Nyx tilted her head, “Um are we-“

“C’mon, I think we both deserve a shake after that.”

As they waited for their order, Nesta playfully tugged one of Nyx’s locks,

“Nyxie?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you go visit your mom? Please? I promise that Rhysand didn’t put me up for this, if anything he probably hates me too much to even talk to me.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to see her like that Nes, she looks like a-“

Nesta could hear the unsaid words, corpse.

Nesta held her hands, “Please, just put a hand on her heart to remember she’s alive, just healing. Talk to her. Let her know you’re there.”

It wasn’t until they were back in the car that Nyx said,

“When I go to visit her I’m going to tell her about you.”

Nesta smiled, when not if.

“Tell her how much I love you and that I can’t wait to meet her.”

----------                          

Nesta was doing her biology homework when she got a text from Adelaide.

Meet me in my study.

She groaned trudging down the stairs past the giggles and laughs in Jonas’s room.

She walked in going, “Yes mom?”

“Leona called, telling me you were planning to send Jonah to Chicago.”

Nesta inwardly groaned, “Uh, yeah. Forgot about that.”

“It is a good plan Nes, but how in hell are you going to get Jonah to agree to it?”

“He has to.”

“Forcing something like this on him will make him think of himself as a criminal.”

“That’s what the world will see him as if we don’t get him out of the Valley now.”

“Nesta how do we know he will be safe? Will people not think of him with suspiscion if he does leave?”

Nesta crossed her arms at her mother,

“Jonah is going to Chicago with Leo and that’s final. Leo will take care if him, she would never allow anything bad to happen to him.”

Her mother opened her mouth but the study door burst open,

“You can’t take Jonah away from me!” Nyx pleaded at Nesta.

But Jonah held up a hand and stepped toward his older sister.

There was fear, Nesta realized in her 14 year old brother’s silver eyes as he looked up at her and asked,

“Is it because I killed Tomas Mandray?”

Nyx gasped and Caroline who stood in the doorway dropped the phone in her hand.

Nesta looked around at the mess her brother had incited with 7 words. She looked down at him,

“Shush Jonah! You did no such thing!” she shook him slightly.

He moved out of her grip, “I did! My friends will understand if I tell them the truth.”

Caroline moved into the room,

“Tell us. Please.”

Nesta looked at her mother. Adelaide nodded.

 Nesta ushered them closer,

“Tomas Mandray is a bad man. He tried to rape me.”

And there it was the motive simple and clear.

“He drugged me and tied me to a bed in a hotel room. Jonah had been looking for me and used the ‘find my friend’ app to track down my phone. Tomas’ gun was on the table and Jonah picked it up and pulled the trigger in order to save me. We had to clean up the scene so a friend of mine, Ronan, he disposed the body. We drove his truck into the river. The same truck that was found 2 days ago.”

Nyx and Caro were sitting in silence on either side of Jonah as he tried to gauge their reaction.

“That bastard deserved it.” Nyx said at last.

Nesta could feel the wave of relief that went through Jonah.

“I need your complete confidence, I know your brothers and Eris is deeply loyal to me,” she turned to Nyx, “As is Azriel. Trust me when I tell you that if explained to them they will not allow you to betray me.”

Caro and Nyx exchanged looks and turned to Nesta and nodded.

“Go finish your slumber party.”

They all sprinted off.

----

Cassian rolled his neck back. 2 hours had flown past as he finished his geography homework. He sensed a small figure behind him,

“Hey Nyx, you need something?”

He expected Nyx to snap at him, but he sure as hell didn’t expect her to say,

“Can Nesta trust you?”

Cassian sat up looking at her, “Nesta? Why-“

“What are you capable of doing for her?”

Nyx’s eyes were red and he answered her question, “I would do anything for her.”

“What I’m about to ask you…you can’t tell anyone.” She stood up straighter, “Or I’ll deny it and say it was for creative writing club.”

He nodded.

“If I told you Nesta was hurt almost hurt badly by a man what would you do?”

Cassian’s eyes took on a feral look, “You wouldn’t like it. He’d be dead by the time I was done.”

Nyx nodded and then said, “And if I told you my best friend did something terrible to protect his sister that is now tearing both siblings up?”

Cassian looked up, “Come sit here and tell me the whole story.”

 ----

It didn’t take Cassian long to find the wine red 1959 Chevrolet corvette c1that belonged to Nesta parked in front of Pop’s.

She came out in her cape coat and black heels. The air outside was hot and she stopped before her car taking off the cape coat and throwing it with the food in the passenger seat, revealing a short skirt and a tightly clinging white full sleeved shirt with black detailing on the cuffs and down the button line, a black string bow on top.

 He silently walked towards her grabbing her figure and hauling her to the back of Pop’s.

“How dare you-“

Hazel eyes bore into hers. The same hazel eyes that lingered in her dreams, oh to say she knew the well would be an understatement. She drowned in them.

“Cassian this is no way-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was pained.

Realization dawned on her face, “Nyx told you.”

“Only because Jonah has not been himself at school and she didn’t want to tell you because you’re already handling too much.”

Nesta’s eyes softened, “I…its ok.”

She tried to walk away before Cassian pressed his weight into her.

“Don’t you dare.”

He tilted her chin up, “Baby is this why you were crying?”

Nesta said quietly, “I have to protect Jonah. The way he protected me, the Mandray’s are a huge family if-“

“So are the Archeron’s… and the Narenz’s. We would’ve protected you, and Jonah…”

Nesta’s eyes hardened, “Try telling that to my guidance counsellor in LA who asked me ‘what I was wearing?’ and if I was ‘flirtatious in any way?’ and to ‘let it go, because it’s just sex.’”

Cassian gaped at her. “They- wha… they said that?”

The look on her face confirmed it.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Nesta’s own arms wrapped around herself trying to keep from breaking.

She slowly pushed Cassian away saying she needed to go. He walked her to her car and then Cassian got a call.

He picked up, “Hey Feyre.”

“Hey, um could you come over? Like now please, Rhysand was here and he’s well… drunk off his ass and now he needs a ride home.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and Nesta snatched the phone from him,

“What happened to you revising for your test tomorrow Fey? You promised Mom that you’d practice tonight.”

Silence until, “CASSIAN HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME MY SISTER WAS RIGHT THERE!”

Cassian laughed saying, “You should go revise Feyre. I’m on my way.”

He cut the call glancing at Nesta, “Seems like I’ll be following you.”

Nesta shook her head and slid in the seat.

--------

As Cassian (not so delicately) shoved Rhys into the passenger seat, Feyre slightly shoved Nesta.

“Ask him!”

“No.”

“Please!!!” Feyre pouted.

“No!!”

“If you don’t I’ll tell Helion and that man is a devil so you have no idea what he might do.”

Nesta gaped at her little sister.

Cassian strode up to them, “You two ok?”

Feyre raised a brow and then said brightly, “Cassian! Nesta needs to ask you for a favour! I’ll go check on Rhys.”

Nesta tried to stifle her groan.

Cassian gave her a questioning look, “What do you need?”

“Helion forced me and my friends to join the school newspaper, and the article Luna and I were working on is contributing to Women’s day, so Feyre mentioned that you are sponsoring a shelter for Illyrian women, I was just wondering if you could maybe get us an interview with some of them?”

Cassian looked taken aback, “Um, yeah sure.”

Nesta gave him a tight smile, “Great! See you at the office first thing in the morning.”

She turned hoping that some vengeful bird shits on Feyre’s shoulder in the morning.

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

Cassian knocked on the office door.

“Come in!”

He walked in, looking around. There were 4 desks in the middle joined so it looked like 3 sides of a rectangle.

Nesta was at the longer side talking to a guy who sat the side desk.

He sat in front of her, “Nice office.”

Nesta waved him off, “Credit goes to Helion. Anyway, Cassian meet Andras, Lucien’s boyfriend.”

Andras shook his hand, “Just call me Andy.”

“Andras is working on the Hero’s day article. He’ll be going around and talking to local heroes.”

Andras turned his chair to Cassian, “Captain I was thinking of trying out for the football team, and since you’re the jury…”

Cassian looked him up and down, “You have the physique, now it’s just about your performance.”

“So being Nesta’s friend won’t give me an easier path in?”

Cassian laughed as Nesta rolled her eyes, “No, but it’ll probably prevent me from kicking you out.”

At that minute Audrey stepped in,

“Nes, Principal Smith needs a word about the school drama.”

Nesta nodded, "Play nice boys.” She said as she stepped out.

The school was quiet, its occupants still not arrived considering the early hour. As Cassian leaned back Andras said,

“So… you and Nesta, huh?”

“I wish.” He mumbled.

“Any advice for try-outs?”

As Cassian gave him advice the caretaker stepped in wedging in a big envelope in the office’s postal rack. He left wordlessly.

 Nesta came back in Audrey in tow. As she passed the rack she asked,

“Did this just come?”

“Uh…yeah,” Andras said.

“Nesta Archeron, Blue and Silver office.” She read out the front, ripping it open.

She took out an odd looking letter made from cut up magazine headlines and Newspaper letters. It said:

 You once told me you hate repeating yourself.

You managed to save your sister once. Let’s see if you can repeat yourself and save her again. She’s in my clutches…

I will avenge my loved ones… My vengeance started when Clare came to meet me on the River banks. Blood flowed then and it will now.

The real question is will you, Nesta Archeron put

Family first?

 Nesta put a hand over her mouth. Audrey’s hand came around her.

Andras and Cassian’s faces were etched with horror.

Andras pointed a shaky finger at the envelope where a bump was.

Nesta took the envelope, turned it over and shook it.

As Metal clanged on the table Nesta took a step back and let out a breathless sound.

Clare Beddor’s Locket given to her by Nesta on her Sweet sixteenth, where on one side was their friends and the other side a family portrait now lay on the table, blood coating it. A locket that came from a body which was never found. Only photos sent to Clare’s guardian, her aunt were the only evidence that Clare was dead.

 But now… the locket meant…

It meant that this letter was sent by Clare’s killer.

 Coming up next:

As they were in chemistry the sheriff, Thesan’s dad came in.

“Miss Archeron you’ll need to come with us.”

Beside her Thesan stood up. 

“Why dad? You’re gonna take one of my best friends away like a criminal?”

Nesta held up a hand , “It’s fine Thesan I know why.”

“Why Nesta?” Luna asked as Audrey stood up.

“Because I’m guilty.”

Tags:: @skychild29 @aesthetics-11 @perseusannabeth​ @awesomelena555​

[ritamordio19]

A Court of Steel and Fire (4/?)

Summary: Post-ACOFAS. My take on Nesta’s banishment to the Illyrian camps with Cassian and her corresponding recovery process.

Alternatively, a reminder that hardened steel doesn’t melt easily.

Requested tags: @rairrai ~~ All the characters/locations are owned by Sarah J. Maas :).

Chapter 1 Here

Chapter 2 Here

Chapter 3 Here

AO3 Link Here

~~

Melting Steel

The next few hours were a blur, the pain from Nesta’s shoulder clouding her senses and forcing tears out against her will.  After Cassian had reset her shoulder, she’d felt him tuck her body against his as he took off, but after that was a hazy flight, most of which was spent with her head tucked into his chest.  She’d told herself it was to prevent him from seeing her cry from the pain, but she also knew she wasn’t ready to face that look again, the one that had pierced through her defenses so readily minutes before.

When they’d touched down at the cabin, Cassian hadn’t let her down until he’d reached her bed.  He’d quickly wrapped her shoulder, handed her another amulet, saying it was his from the war, and told her to sleep before immediately heading out again.  She’d only silently watched, amulet glowing in hand, and stared silently at the empty doorway he’d passed through, before tying the amulet around her neck and promptly passing out from the day’s exhaustion.

Which brought her to this moment, drowsily awakening to a soft, female voice drifting in from the recently-opened front door, soon followed by murmured conversation between the woman and a voice she knew to be Cassian’s.  Realizing quickly that even her Fae hearing was insufficient to eavesdrop, she laid on her uninjured side, away from the door, and attempted to drift off again.

A soft knock on the door served to interrupt that goal, however, and Nesta sat up to see a familiar woman enter quietly, apologizing for the intrusion.  Nesta blinked in surprise.

“Madja?”

The healer smiled, then sat on the side of the bed.  She gestured to Nesta’s right shoulder.  “May I?”  Nesta, still stunned, merely looked over at her shoulder before remembering that, despite the amulet’s magic masking the hurt, her shoulder was indeed still in disrepair.  She nodded, and Madja swiftly unwrapped her shoulder before making an audible cluck with her tongue.  “Illyrians are so rough with their temporary fixes.”  She gave a look of disapproval to Nesta, then continued with her work as she moved her now-glowing hands over Nesta’s shoulder.  “But it’s alright; I’ll still be able to heal it properly.  Just might take a bit longer than if I’d been here to start.”

Nesta gazed distantly at the healer’s work, still feeling somewhat emotionally dissociated from the events of the day.  Uncomfortable with the silence between them, though, she decided to break it.  “I’m surprised Cassian went all the way to Velaris to get you.”

“I wouldn’t be.”  Madja’s eyes remained focused on her work as she spoke.  “The healers here don’t have the same magical abilities that I do, and it may have taken months for your shoulder to heal otherwise.  Normally it would’ve been better for him to have brought you to me instead, but...”  The healer’s voice dipped, and the narrowing of Nesta’s eyes caused Madja to sigh and pause from her work.  “Cassian asked me not to inform His/Her High Lord & Lady of this trip.  I imagine bringing you into Velaris injured likely would’ve disrupted that.”

“Figures.” Nesta muttered under her breath, earning another sharp look from Madja.  Madja’s face scrunched, and her eyes drifted out the bedside window for a few seconds before she retrained them on Nesta’s and lowered her hands to the bed cloth.

“Nesta, I have to ask.  Do you feel unsafe here?”  Nesta’s responsive quizzical look caused Madja’s look to hone.  “He’s not here right now.”  Nesta tilted her head, then her eyes widened.

“Oh no it’s not...no.  No, this wasn’t...”  Nesta tightened her face in embarrassment at her stammering and took a deep breath to compose her response.  “You know Cassian wouldn’t do this.” She stared intently at Madja, who merely tilted her head in reply. “Did he...not tell you what happened?”

Madja sighed softly.  “No.  He told me you’d want to tell me yourself. That, combined with his insistence on secrecy, even having known Cassian for centuries...”

“It wasn’t him.”  Nesta grabbed Madja’s hands strongly with her own.  “I...”  She hesitated, then exhaled in concession.  “I attacked Devlon a few days ago.  The camp leader,” she added at Madja’s confusion.  “He threw me to the ground today.  That’s what happened.  I promise.  That’s it.  Cassian wasn’t even there.”

Madja studied her gaze for awhile, then nodded as she accepted Nesta’s words, half-truths that they may be.  Her hands began glowing again, and she resumed working on Nesta’s shoulder.  “If that’s the case, I’m surprised this “Devlon” is still breathing.”  She eyed at Nesta out of the corner of her eyes.  “From you or Cassian.  But...do know if you ever need to come back to Velaris, you can send word, and I’ll make sure it happens, okay?”  Nesta nodded, and Madja, satisfied, spent the rest of the time healing in silence.

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

Despite Madja’s insistence that she stay in bed, Nesta followed her to the main part of the cabin to await Cassian’s arrival.  She still didn’t want to have the conversation she knew was coming, but this – simply a few seconds seeing each other – a deep part of her knew that it was needed to let him know this situation wasn’t caused by him.  And sure enough, as he entered the cabin, his muscles visibly relaxed as he paused for a few moments, staring at her healed shoulder, before Madja bowed politely to Nesta and left with him for Velaris.

It didn’t escape Nesta’s notice, though, how his eyes hadn’t drifted higher than her shoulder in the brief time he was home.

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

He didn’t return until well after darkness had fallen upon the camp, and he swiftly headed straight for his room, only taking the time to leave a wrapped package on the foyer railing before his door clicked shut.  When Nesta unwrapped the package, something in her cracked internally at the sandwiches inside.

It was like this every day for the next few weeks.  No matter how early she woke up, Cassian would be gone for the day, and he’d return so late that she only knew he’d returned by the fresh package of meals he’d leave for her in the kitchen.  The few times she was awake, he’d be in his room before she’d have the chance to say a word. But she continued to wear his amulet, as it still glowed faintly, and Cassian obviously hadn’t deigned to ask for it back.  She wasn’t sure its binding powers were strong enough to block...it, but she still didn’t dare take it off.

She should’ve been happy – this is what she had asked for for the past year.  Pure, unadulterated silence; no one pushing her to talk or to do...well, anything. Against her expectations, Cassian hadn’t spelled the doors; she could still come and go as she’d pleased, a test she had made the first morning after and several mornings since.  But even so, she couldn’t get herself to leave the porch when she did step out, and the days were growing dull.  She’d begun to relive their last fight over and over in her head, to the point where she felt she might prefer even that to the current silence between them.

What’s more, she knew she needed a long-term plan.  Whether this pendant was truly working or not, its power wouldn’t last forever, and the cabin was most definitely not stocked in anything she could use to hold out longer.  And whatever she wanted – or rather, didn’t want, from Cassian...seeing the coldness that had built within him was unbearable.  She knew what would’ve happened to him had she succeeded.

So she worked.  Silently, she worked.  Over and over in her mind, day after day, running through scenarios, likelihoods, plans, solutions, key players, continuing the absence game with the Illyrian in the next room until she was absolutely sure she only had one option.

Until he opened his door at 2:30 AM to leave for the day and found her blocking his path.

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

Cassian held her stone-cold gaze for a moment before attempting to step around her, a move she easily blocked.  He tried two more times unsuccessfully in the tight foyer and growled.

“I don’t need to use the front door to leave, you realize.”

“And yet you’re still standing here.”  Nesta crossed her arms, quickly realizing her mistake as he turned the corner for the stairs instead. “Wait.”  He kept moving, and she jumped up the stairs two-at-a-time to meet his stride  “Cassian.”  He kept moving toward the far window of the attic, and she started to panic.  “The Day Court.”

He scoffed, but his feet stopped, and she breathed a sign of relief. “What?”

“You asked me where I wanted to go.  I want to go to the Day Court.”

He turned his head to her slowly in disbelief, then shook his head and snorted in a dark chuckle, before turning back toward the window, raising it up.  She ran to catch up to him as his wings flared, then tucked behind him.

“Hey--”

“No.” The weakness in his voice was a punch to her gut.

“You said you’d--”

“No.” He turned to her again, hand on the sill.  She was stopped a few feet away, and she knew if she tried to clear the difference, he’d be well-gone before she did.  “You don’t get to do this.  Not anymore.  You don’t get to take and take and take and never talk out what’s going on.”  He paused.  “I’ll send word and have Rhys winnow you later today, if that’s what you want.  But not me.”

“You haven’t been talking to me either.”  She clutched her fists together and took a step desperately toward him as she saw him swivel back toward the window.  Another dark laugh came from his lips, but this time he didn’t bother to turn around.

“I’ve been talking to you for a year, Nesta.  A year.  You had your chance; you don’t get to talk to me only when you need something.  Now, I’m busy.”

“I’ll make you a deal.”  The words were out of her mouth before she even realized what she’d said, but he paused, one leg already outside the cabin, and turned his gaze sideways.

“There’s nothing I want.”

“Anything, Cassian.  I don’t care what it is.  Please.”  She fought back tears, her fists still clenched at her side.  He turned his head finally back toward her, but he didn’t open his mouth.  “Anything. You want me to talk?  I’ll talk.  You want me to do some stupid errands for His Royal Jackass?  I will.  Would you rather me never talk to you again? Anything.”  She swept her hand out, wiping her eyes with the other. “But please just...do this for me.”

He stared her down, her eyes lasered daggers even as they lined with moisture, then brought his leg back inside, sitting on the windowsill as he crossed his arms.  After a few minutes of torturous silence where she didn’t dare even blink for fear he’d be gone when she opened her eyes, he finally spoke.

“Three questions.”

She stared dumbfounded at him, eyes drying from the shock, then let out a sharp, “What.”  He folded his arms tighter as he adjusted his posture, ducked his head, then resumed their locked gaze.

“I take you to the Day Court, and I get to ask you any three questions I want, and you have to answer them honestly and in full.”  He looked at her expectantly, and she formed a scowl.

“One.”

He snorted again.  “I wasn’t aware this was a negotiation.”  He stared firmly at her.  “Three.”

She held his stare, thinking it over.  She could take him up on his offer to have Rhys take her, but that would open up too many questions. She really needed his help, and she knew he’d realized it and wouldn’t come down.  So she tried her other option.  “Fine, but–” she added as he began to stand up from his perch, “–I get your undivided help today and tomorrow with whatever I need.  No questions asked, no refusing to help, no trying to extricate more demands in exchange.”  She paused as she continued to think.  “And your questions can’t be asked until after my side of the deal is done.”

He raised his eyebrow.  “What makes you think I’d agree to that?”

“Would you rather I get Rhys involved instead?”

He leaned against the window, contemplating.  The coldness was still there, but the curiosity she saw in his eyes let her know she’d won, that there was still a part of him that cared what she did, even if it’d been pushed deep down by recent events.  She smirked in silent victory, and he scoffed again.

“Each of the three questions must be answered within 24 hours in as much detail as reasonably possible; relevant follow-up questions are free and must be answered honestly and to the same degree.”  He stood up straight, making a show of contemplation, before extending his hand. “Deal?”

She huffed in irritation at his specificity.  Two could play at that game.  “You get one per day, starting with two days from today.  If you don’t ask any question during that day, you lose it.  And it has to be clearly referred to as part of the deal.”  She paused, before adding a final stipulation. “And no questions about before you knew me.”  She raised her chin up, eyebrow risen in question.  He shrugged and merely extended his hand further, mirroring her risen eyebrow.

She frowned tightly.  This hadn’t been part of the plan, but...if things turned out properly, maybe it could end up working even further to her benefit.  She sighed reluctantly and shook his hand. “Fine.”

A searing pain lining her hip led her to immediately drop his hand. She frantically raised the side of her tunic to find a tattoo of three suns inked in a line, their flames curling where they met.  She looked at him accusatorially.  “What is this?”  He sighed and lifted his own shirt slightly to show a mirror image on his hip.

“Bargains involving Fae are bound by magic; surely you know that from Feyre.” She scowled, not wanting to admit she hadn’t thought of that possibility, but her foul mood didn’t last long, as shock replaced it when she processed their bargain.

“Wait. You magically bound yourself to my will for two days?”  He merely stared at her, unblinking and calm.  “You’re insane.”

“No, I’m not.”  He walked past her, back toward the stairs.  “Now get moving; we need to get ready to leave for the Palace.”

[cross-poison]

CLARITAS. Part 6 (Din Djarin/OFC)

WORDS: 1.5k || WARNINGS: attempted mugging

a/n: Now we're finally getting into the more fun stuff. Thanks for continuing to slow-burn with me!

As the evening eased deeper and deeper into darkness, Elliotte bid Rhythimi and the refugees a good night and began her walk back to her own home. She stepped onto the porch and made her way down to the side walk, glancing left and right down the empty street. She’d made the walk home at this time of night dozens of times, but tonight something felt… different.

The air felt heavy, and she couldn’t shake the idea that she was being followed. Although the urge to break into a run was growing, she willed herself to maintain her composure and continue the route at a normal pace. The last thing she wanted was to draw unnecessary attention to Rhy’s safehouse. 

Elliotte’s boldness wilted, however, when faint footsteps began to tail her, and before she knew it a man was beside her, walking at her side a bit too casually. He didn’t attempt to pass---just matched her pace with each step. 

“That’s a nice dress, little flower,” he gruffed after a moment, “You from the palace?”

“No,” Elliotte answered curtly.

“You sure? That’s some expensive-looking bead work.”

“It’s not. It’s homemade.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, noble. I’m going to tell you this just once,” he stopped abruptly and took her by the shoulder, forcing her to stop beside him. Before Elliotte could wrench out of his grip, a blade was pressed to her throat, digging into her skin. “Give me all the credits you have on you---and that nice silver bracelet you got on.”

Elliotte resisted the urge to roll her eyes, grateful she’d already handed her credits to Rhythimi earlier in the evening. “You sure you weren’t born yesterday? If you can’t tell, I don’t have any credits on me. This thing doesn’t have pockets. And this--” Elliotte lifted her silver-clad forearm and shook it in front of his face, “Doesn’t come off.”

Abruptly, the would-be mugger seemed to realize his mistake... but he held his ground, a snarl on his lip. “Don’t play games with me, girl,” he growled, “Or I’ll kill you and pry it off your arm myself!” Before Elliotte could move, he grabbed her arm and tried to forcefully pull off the silver clasped around her forearm. True to her word, it hardly budged. 

“Oh, what a surprise.”

The blade against her throat returned, pressing in a little deeper and causing her to draw in a faint hiss of breath, but before the man could offer another threat, Elliotte’s attention was drawn to faint movement in the darkness behind him. 

Suddenly, the pressure against her neck was released as the man was hauled backward with incredible force. A gloved hand covered his mouth quickly, preventing the escape of the horrified cry the man tried to give as he was quickly subdued and knocked out. 

Elliotte stumbled back in surprise, a hand coming up to rub at her throat where the knife had been pressed. As her rescuer rose back up to his full height, she caught a glimpse of shiny beskar and let out a soft breath of relief she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Mando--”

“I told you not to make this a habit,” he answered, gently taking her good arm to help her to her feet. 

Ell chuckled weakly in response and smoothed out her dress once she had gotten her footing. “It’s not intentional… genius over there thought I was nobility.”

“You aren’t?”

“Gods, no. My time spent in the palace is only to play music for them, and occasionally read poetry. I suppose I need to rethink my choices if people are beginning to mistake me for one,” Elliotte replied, unable to keep the look of disgust that crept across her face, causing her nose to wrinkle.

Mando didn’t respond to her comment, instead angling his helmet to look down the street. “It’s getting late, and trouble seems to enjoy following you… my ship is far closer to here than your house is. I don’t suppose you’d take me up on an offer of a place to stay tonight, would you?”

Truth be told, Elliotte was exhausted, and the idea of walking all the way back home tonight was stomach-churning. She’d had more than enough excitement for one day. “I’d hate to impose… you’ve already done more than enough.”

“If you prefer, I’ll walk you home instead.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“You haven’t asked anything of me. I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t genuine.”

Elliotte was cautious by nature… under regular circumstances, she would never trust a strange man enough to return with him to his ship, but he’d come to her aid twice in one day. She felt she owed him at least a chance to be trusted. “Then… I suppose… if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“It isn’t. Follow me,” replied the man as he turned on his heel and began to make his way in the direction of his ship. 

Elliotte followed close behind, not wanting to take her chances on the streetside any longer. On this side of town, it felt almost impossible to make out distinct shapes in the darkness without the aid of street lamps, and the musician was on edge enough as it was. 

Thankfully, the Mandalorian hadn’t been lying; his ship was significantly closer than her own house was, albeit a bit off the beaten path. The houses had grown scarcer until the architecture gave way to the vast wilderness of Listronus’s lush grass fields. The Mandalorian’s ship was tucked away behind the far treeline, well-obscured from view of any common passerby. Although Elliotte was no expert in spacecraft, she could tell the one before her was an older model than the types that normally harbored on her planet. All in all, it was the ideal location for a murder to take place, she thought. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top of such an eventful day?

As she was questioning the decisions she’d made that led to this very moment, Mando approached the side of his ship and fiddled with a button on the underside, opening the ship’s ramp. Without saying a word to her, he stepped inside. Elliotte reluctantly followed, keeping a fair distance in case she needed to bolt, but her curiosity ultimately got the best of her as she found her gaze drawn to the various boxes of tools and supplies lining the ship’s walls. Elliotte had been on Listronus all her life, and had never travelled elsewhere, so she’d never actually set foot in someone’s ship before. 

She was sure her eyes were alight with wonder, but she quickly snapped back to attention when she saw the figure of the Mandalorian shift back into her line of sight. 

Despite the lack of personal belongings on-board, Elliotte couldn’t entirely bite back her question: “Do you live on this ship?”

“Mostly,” came the reply, muffled behind the helmet, “Occasionally I’m able to find other arrangements, but usually it’s just easier to stay put.”

Before Elliotte could respond, she became distracted by a faint tugging near the bottom of her dress. Glancing down, she was met with a small green creature wrapped in brown cloth, with ears and eyes seemingly a bit too big for its face. It cooed softly up at her as Elliotte blinked in surprise and slowly bent down to its level. She’d met with countless species over the years, but none who looked anything quite like this. She tilted her head thoughtfully and the little creature mimicked the movement, lips opening in a curious almost-smile.

“... Hi,” Ell said softly, the corner of her lip curling into a smile, “Were you here this whole time?”

The little green creature’s ears lifted slightly as she spoke, blinking its black eyes at her. Before she could say another word, the Mandalorian stepped between them and carefully picked the creature up. “... He’s… supposed to be asleep.” 

“What is he?” Elliotte asked, getting to her feet once again.

“He’s a child. I’m looking after him for now,” Mando replied simply, stepping away from her once again. “You’re welcome to use the cot down here. I’ll be upstairs.”

Ell glanced in the direction he’d gestured and noticed a small area to her left, complete with a cot and little shelf. The area formed a little alcove in the ship to offer a fair bit of privacy, much to her relief. When she drew her gaze back to the Mandalorian, he was already climbing the rungs of the ladder to the ship’s upper level. “Thank you,” she said softly, “Thanks again for letting me stay here for the night.”

He angled his helmet in her direction for a moment, offering a small nod while the child in his arms cooed quietly and wrapped his tiny fingers around the fabric of Mando’s cloak. “...You’re welcome.”

With that, he was out of sight and Ell was once again left on her own. It was then that the exhaustion of the day finally caught up to her and she found herself sinking down on the small cot prepared for her. She rolled onto her back and drew the thin blanket over her, already feeling lulled to sleep. Before long, she had drifted off.

---

Ao3 Link: HERE

[darling-archeron]

Beneath the Dark - Chapter One

What would have happened if Feyre had come to Prythian much earlier? Feyre Archeron has left her mortal life behind, and accepted being demi-fae. She has found her place in the Night Court's Inner Circle. But when her and Rhys attend a ball hosted by Amarantha Under the Mountain, they are in for much for then they bargained for.

Masterlist

Two years later

What are you scheming now, Rhys?” Feyre asked, sneaking up behind me on soft feet and peering over my shoulder.

“I’m not scheming - I’m plotting, darling,” I replied smoothly, folding the paper I held.

Feyre rolled her eyes, walking over to face me. “Semantics. What’s on the paper?”

I feigned a dramatic sigh and handed over the stiff parchment, watching her eyes move slowly across the page as she sounded out words she didn’t know well. “General Amarantha of Hybern requests the presence of The High Lord of the Night Court this evening Under the Mountain, for a night of revelry and celebration. The half-moon offers us peace to rejoice in our newly formed alliances.”

I couldn’t help but snort at the last part. Honoring moon cycles was a completely Prythian tradition, and one that only some courts upheld. The half-moon wasn’t generally seen as a symbol of peace, but it was interesting that Amarantha would try to pass herself off as knowledgeable about Prythian’s culture.

Feyre paused, raising her eyebrows at me. “The theme of the evening will be a masquerade, to honor High Lord Tamlin’s shapeshifting gift.” Again, phony pleasantness. The ball was likely to ‘apologize’ for tearing out Lucien’s eyeball and sending him back to Tamlin screaming in agony.

The letter went on about honoring alliances, how the first shipments of goods had arrived on Prythian’s shores. We would dine on Hybern’s fine wine tonight. Feyre disdainfully tossed the letter back on the mahogany table. “I thought Amarantha had moved on from trying to forge alliances with Night.”

I shook my head. “No. Amarantha has always had a penchant for cruelty, and she quite delighted in Hewn City. She’s been biding her time by charming Beron in Autumn, but I have no doubt she would take great pleasure in the chance to learn our secrets.”

“Are the other courts still going forward with their trading deals?”

“Yes. All of them except Tamlin, that is. Most of the other High Lords were alive during the war, even if they were very young. I had hoped they would realize she’s still a snake. But they’ve all been fooled by her apparent ‘desire for retribution.’ They’ve forgotten how she slaughtered the humans they fought so hard to protect.” Feyre shook her head in disgust at my words.

“Tamlin must have really pissed off Amarantha for her to go after Lucien. It’s the most violent she’s been since landing on our shores.” Feyre clenched her jaw, air hissing through her teeth at the thought of Amarantha hurting Lucien. Despite everything – she still cared for him.

“I think she has a thing for eyes, quite honestly. During the war, I saw her tear out the eyeball of Jurian, and do far worse things to those who displeased her.”

“Are you going?” She asked.

“I wouldn’t bother – it’ll be an evening of scheming courtiers that I have little patience for.” No matter that I would don a mask that would make me worse than them. “But the evening provides an excellent chance at figuring out her – and Hybern’s – true motivations.”

“You don’t think she wants peace and trade.” Not a question.

“Not for a moment. Amarantha’s been angry ever since the War. Some say that she’s harbored a vengeance deeper than Hybern himself. I have no doubt that any sham of an alliance we made with her will only go poorly for us. Even Azriel’s best spies haven’t come up with any useful information. Which is why this meeting provides an opportunity to get past her mental shields and make her confess her crimes in front of all of Prythian. Both of us will be attending.” Even though I hated the idea of bringing her before Amarantha…but Feyre could take care of herself.  I leaned on the side of the table as she considered.

“Killing her could lead to war.” Feyre pointed out, even though I hadn’t mentioned murder. But Feyre knew me well.

“I know. I’m prepared.” I didn’t elaborate on exactly how much thought I had put into this.

“Are the others joining us?”

“No. If she was using this night to plan an invasion, that’s what she would hope for. I have no intention of leaving the Court vulnerable to attack. Besides, they wouldn’t be my expected entourage anyway. We’re going to have to stomach the Court of Nightmares for the evening.”

Feyre let out an exaggerated sigh, plopping herself down on an armchair. “Bring Nuala and Cerridwen too. They won’t be out of place as your handmaidens, and they’ll be able to spy.”

I felt a rush of pride at her cunning. She had changed so much in the past six months since coming to Night. My strong, beautiful mate.

“An excellent suggestion, and one I will be sure to carry out, darling.”

“So, you’ll be acting as the Almighty High Lord tonight. What about me?”

I gave her a crooked smile. “That’s up to you. I’ll need you to help to keep me anchored when I am in Amarantha’s mind. If one’s shields are thick enough you can become lost or entrapped in their mind – even someone as powerful as myself. You’ll also be in charge of making sure she doesn’t notice anything amiss, keeping her distracted if need be.”

She nodded. “And after that?”

There was no surprise in Feyre’s eyes, only understanding, and ferocity as I told her the rest of my plan, what I would need her to do.

“We leave at eight. Nuala and Cerridwen have been shopping and found a few possible dresses for the occasion. I took the liberty of picking out a mask for you myself.”

“I certainly hope you picked out one beautiful enough to charm everyone.” She said, humor in her voice.

“Ah, but your own face can do that well enough on its own.”

She looked at me in amusement, tossing her shining hair as she stood. “Flirt. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Striding away on soft feet, my mate exited the room as silently as she had come.

Mate.

My mate.

If only I had the courage to tell her.

The mask Rhys had sent up to my room was made of swirling black lace, the sides of the mask swooping up to form the wings of a bat. At the center, the bat’s head was formed. Little silver gems lined the edges. It was utterly perfect, and I planned the rest of my outfit around it.

The dress itself felt unlike anything I had ever worn. Even after I had left Spring, I had stayed on the more conservative side of Night Court attire. Though it had been a relief to return to the ordinary comfort of pants.

The bodice was covered in woven strands of black lace with ornate, shimmery black detailing covering parts of my chest, arms, and stomach. The neckline, wide at the top, slimmed down to a vee that showed a mere sliver of skin a few inches above my bellybutton. The flowing black skirt sported a single high slit.

Small, ornate braids twined in my hair – Nuala’s work - while the rest flowed freely down my back. I had let her apply red lipstick and eye makeup to complete the look, but the finishing touch was the lapis lazuli diadem she had placed on my head. I truly looked the part of a formidable ambassador of Night.

I looked at the clock. Twenty minutes until I was due to meet Rhys. I sank down into the chair by the window that gave me a perfect view of Velaris, careful not to wrinkle the gown. Outside, the daytime activities were wrapping up as the sun began to sink lower into the horizon. Mothers called their children in for supper, workers hurried home. I could hear the faint sound of a lute a few blocks away.

I wondered what the fae mother who had abandoned me so long ago would say about me now. If she had known even as she abandoned my unsuspecting, mortal father what I was to become. Nesta and Elain would have certainly been shocked. Their outcast, unwanted half-sister, lounging in Prythian’s most feared court.

Perhaps one day, I would return to the human lands, try to reconcile with my sisters. But not now. Of course, I wouldn’t be able to put it off forever. Far too soon they would wither with age while I remained young and immortal.

I would do it, I vowed. Just not today. Standing, I took last one look at my form in the mirror and strode down the staircase.  Rhys was waiting, hands tucked into his pockets. I watched him as his eyes traveled up my form – something like desire hidden in their depths. “You look absolutely delicious, darling. I fear the other courts may fall to their knees at the sight of you.”

I raised my brows. “Someone, it seems, has good taste.”

“I knew you’d like the mask.”

“I was referring to Cerridwen’s suggestion of the dress, actually.”

“You wound me, Feyre.” He sighed theatrically.

I smiled a bit. “You seem to be keeping your look on brand. But no mask?” Indeed, he was dressed in black pants and an elaborate black tunic laced with silver thread, his favored crown of ravens’ feathers on his head. His face, however, remained bare.

He twitched his fingers, a mask appearing in his hand. “I thought I’d give you one last look at my face before I covered it up.”

I snorted as he twirled the mask between his fingers, brandishing it before he placed it on his face. It was black, with detailing of the same coloring etched over top.

Between the crown and the mask, he truly looked like the Lord of Nightmares, though I knew better as he held out his arm for me.

Taking it, I breathed in the scent of Velaris one last time before Rhys winnowed us away.

I clung tightly to his arm as we traveled to the fabric of the universe, stopping first at Hewn City. Around forty fae waited, looking vaguely unnerved by the sight of their High Lord. I made eye contact with a few, giving them a serpentine smile as I walked past. Most appeared to be nobles, but there were a few guards and lesser fae thrown in the bunch as well. “No Kier tonight?” I asked down our bond. Rhys’s shields were enforced more than usual tonight, not even a crack left open.

 “No. He’s throwing a tantrum about it, but he’ll only stir up trouble if he comes with us.”

Rhys glared out over the wicked courtiers he ruled over. “I expect you all to be on good behavior tonight unless someone would like themselves to find themselves missing an appendage.”   He paused for a beat before winnowing away, leaving everyone else – including myself, to follow suit. Various fae held onto each other – clearly, not everyone could winnow. Luckily, I wasn’t included in that count as I vanished, pushing through the void to reach my destination. I hadn’t winnowed this far by myself before, and by the time I arrived at the gates of the Mountain, I found myself out of breath. Rhys was already there, giving me a wink a hairsbreadth of a second before the Nightmare Court began to winnow in. Turning around with a flourish, he led us into the base of the Mountain. I walked a few steps behind him with a few other nobles as we had planned.

I had never been to the meeting place of the High Lords, but I could see why it was the only place they could all meet without being too crowded or threatening to destroy something. The mountain was huge – bigger than any of the Steppes.

Though the entrance had been filled with ornate carvings, the majority of the Mountain’s walls were disappointingly bare, my artist’s eyes noted.

Down we descended, following the bright torches as they led us into the mountain’s heart. Soon, the passageway led to a set of towering doors. Upon Rhysand’s arrival, two red-skinned faeries pulled open the doors for him, giving way to a brightly lit gathering hall.

It was a wide, open space – a wise choice, considering the mighty powers that would soon fill it. Glowing faelight bobbed throughout the room, and below finely roasted food was set out onto tables. Strange, unfamiliar music played in the background. Ornate tapestries that would have taken a mortal lifetime to create adorned the walls, almost as lifelike as the fae who crowded the room in front of me.

Immediately, I scanned the room, looking for the different Courts. Summer, Autumn, Dawn, and Winter had already arrived, members mingling in the crowd. The Spring Court - Tamlin - hadn’t arrived yet. I stiffened at the thought of seeing him again. We hadn’t had any contact since that day I had accepted Rhys’s sanctuary. Did he still love me? Or had that love turned into the boiling rage I knew too well?

Sensing my thoughts, I felt Rhys brush up against my mental shields reassuringly. It brought my mind back to the task at hand. Amarantha.

I scanned the crowd again, this time looking for the red hair Rhys had described. It didn’t take long. She had positioned herself near the center of the room and was talking to the High Lord of Dawn. The Ever-Blooming Flower wasn’t overwhelmingly beautiful, nor did her features strike a bolt of fear in my heart, though her face was obscured by a golden lioness mask. She wore a long-sleeved, bronze gown that was tight in the hips. A regal sort of beauty. What struck me as out of place was the spiky, golden crown she wore. Though only metal, not jewels, it was a queen’s crown - not a general’s. Rhys turned around to the court behind him, bringing my attention back to him. “Go play.”

For Amarantha, sensing Rhysand’s arrival, had broken away from the throng and was gliding over to us. I could hardly walk away and spend the evening under her radar now, not without her taking it as an insult. It would appear I was to meet the beast head-on.

It was what I had come for. Breathing deeply, I checked my mental shields and looked her in the eyes.

[kyattokyatto]

The Half Breed - Part 2 (ACOWAR)

(Artwork by @phantomrin)

Kiril’s glare only magnified when he put two and two together. Not only did he have to be in the same room as Rhysand but the information that the beautiful woman next to him was his mate infuriated the young fae to no end. Her hair was a soft brown like the brown of a tree’s bark with complimenting sky blue eyes, she was pretty… Prettier than he deserved or at least that’s what Kiril thought.

It was a slight shock when even a sliver of guilt shown in those violet eyes only for his son’s sharp crystal eyes to narrow in an uncaring gesture.

“Kallias.” Rhys’ voice was smooth and rich like a fountain of chocolate at a banquet covered in the finest decoration. The night sky practically lived on his chest as flecks of gold and silver shined on a base of dark violet. Crow’s feathers nested on top of his head while an air of darkness followed him. Wings stolen from a bat followed behind the high lord as well… More idle chatter and tenseness accompanied the Night Court’s arrival but it seemed all too friendly to the Ice Prince. These people had issues with each other. Was it not months before that a woman, allied with Rhys, found her way onto the Winter Court’s lands? This anger would not be let free as the rest of the High Lords appeared and he was representing his court and father right now, not himself.

Tarquin, High Lord of the Summer Court, was first to arrive. Snowy gray strands fell to his shoulders which brought out aqua blue eyes. If Helion’s skin was roasted coffee Tarquin’s was the finest chocolate to exist, even finer than Rhys’ voice. Two similar looking Fae followed behind who were of royalty but not the guard status.

Beron, High Lord of the Autumn Court, and his all six of his sons showed in the spotlight next. In Kiril’s icy blue eyes he was a stern old man with too much time to have too many kids. The son’s sneers did not go unnoticed by him and instead of sneering back he kept up an icy facade similar to his father’s while looking back at the dark-skinned high lord that just entered. Everything about him was brown but not the glowing brown of Tarquin or Helion more of a fiery brown. The brown of smoking wood decorated with auburns and reds and vibrant oranges. Autumn was definitely a part of his person.

Things could be considered just peachy before as compared to the sudden amount of aggression and horror that radiated off Rhys’ mate as Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court sauntered in. Skin slightly scorched by the sun’s rays playing along with golden strands of hair. Green apples replaced his arrogant eyes as his pearly whites revealed themselves in a bloody smirk. War. It was obvious he craved war. He craved blood. Especially Rhysand’s mate. Of course, everyone seemed to have something against the girl, even Kiril who’s presence had never graced her once before. It was irrational hate. Hate that boiled wild, blistered like the cold, was deadly if put into action, and Rhysand took notice. There were so many personal issues between people in this room. Kiril and Rhysand. Kallias and The Night Court. Tarquin ignored everyone. This meeting had little chance of success.

Hybern had its representative here. It hadn’t even been a second before the debating started about Hybern and Feyre and Love. Subjects filled the room that had nothing to do with anything that was meant to be discussed.

Under the Mountain, the beginning conversation that Tamlin brought up, was a dark place Kiril had barely heard of but the things he had heard about it were of Rhysand mostly and his blind obedience, his abandonment of his people, his.. habits. It only gave the young fae more to feed his wrath that even the snowy hills of his court could not cool. It went from pointing out Rhysand’s betrayals to bringing up the fact that Tamlin himself was allianced with Hybern.

“I stand against Hybern.” His face morphed into a stone cold resolve.

“Prove it.” Helion’s deep voice immediately barked at his miserable face. Papers, reports, charts, and information of every kind slammed onto the table as so-called evidence. The words tickled the tongues of everyone in the room. What if these were fake? It seemed Helion was more than willing to speak up again and question it directly. “Noble as it sounds, who is to say that information is correct- or that you aren’t Hybern’s agent, trying to mislead us?” More accusations toward the Night High Lord were thrown which just made Tamlin himself look worse. He came to work with us but was trying so hard to prove Rhys was the bad one. Kiril agreed, he hated Rhys himself but it still remained a bit suspicious. Too good to be true he thought. Tamlin even went as far as to attempt at shoving blame on one of the Day courts royalty that accompanied Helion.

“Those who accuse often have the most guilty conscience.” This would be the only thing Kiril would say during the meeting as he had not and would not find another reason to open his mouth and use that soft voice of his.

FEYRE’S POV

His voice caught me off guard like the feathery clouds in the sky. He was like a cold star encased in ice but beautiful nonetheless. Those glacier blue eyes reflected Kallias’ in not just color but expression as well. A nest of raven braids held a pure white crown atop his head while the finest furs decorated his tunic. I would say he was related to Kallias and Viviane, possibly their son, but his raven hair almost matched that of Rhysand’s. It looked of the night sky in Velaris, yet he had blue eyes instead of vibrant violet. They were filled with certain hate though that seemed directed at Rhys himself. My thoughts portrayed enough and I didn’t even have to directly ask down the bond.

‘It’s a long story…’ I was certain that had I heard him say those words out loud they would have been just as sad as they felt. I didn’t bother pushing it anymore as a wave of regret and pure agony seemed to transmit off of him making me more miserable than I already was. The only thing that brought me back to reality was when Tamlin began to insult me again only for him to silence. It was an awkward silence but the shock came from the other high lords as they soon realized his silence was a feat of Rhysand’s power.

THIRD PERSON POV

Kiril just sat and listened with pointed ears while scoffing at any childish talk that even flowed from the Spring high lord’s mouth. His mind may have gotten a bit arrogant at that moment but it was not shown with a smirk of any kind. The posture he held stiffened and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as his glacier blue eyes connected with Rhys’ mate, Feyre he believed she was called. The stare given to him soon vanished into any breeze that wafted through as the childish high lord ceased his speech. That was the moment that Kiril got to see just how powerful Rhysand was, what he may be up against in the future. From there the meeting commenced into what it should have been focused on Hybern, war, and the ever great shadow of the dead that was upon them. Despite his young age for a fae and old age for a human, Kiril was not ignorant of to the shadows that threatened to devour Prythian whole.

It was no shock to the ice prince when one of the night court generals physically and magically attacked another from the autumn court. Despite the lack of shock that filled his system he still remained on guard and ready to defend, or kill, if need be. It completely vanished from view as Feyre calmed the seemingly powerful shadow user… which impressed Kiril. This meeting, if one could even begin to fathom how it could be called that, was like a series of fights which were all directed at the arrogant and ignorant Autumn Court. It was surprising that Tamlin himself hadn’t been ripped to shreds or murdered, letting his blood flow into the pond below them. The meeting all came to end after discussing a remedy for faebane, a possible plan, but at the end, six out of seven of the courts united to fight against Hybern. Relief washed over Kiril as his father, mother, and himself left to go to their room. Not even a glance was spared from him for Rhysand or Feyre or the rest of the Night Court.

Their room was extravagant with everything one might need in life. Curtains of faded sunlight framed the clear glass windows as the sun drifted into the horizon. The same plants that decorated the meeting room decorated this room. There was a bathroom carved of Sunstone and a bedroom with the finest orange sheets made of silk. They swirled together with yellows and pink as the sunset would. Kiril immediately collapsed onto the soft bed while a content sigh escaped his mouth. The crown atop his head began yanking stubbornly at a tender headed scalp. He began to fidget with it trying to get it to stop.

“Come here,” his father’s strict and deep voice suddenly entered the air causing his eyes to shoot up immediately. Kiril was feeling a bit… salty. Hesitation filled his body language before getting up, walking to his father, and looking downward in respect plus some fear he would never admit to. There was an emptiness in the air momentarily. “I’ll give you a choice. Go to dinner at Rhysand’s suite or you can eat here then train to strengthen your skills.”

“Here. I want to stay here.” Almost immediately the braided hair atop his head began to fall by his face as his father’s hands undid it. The crown on his head found its way to a vanity that reflected the story of summer.

“Very well…” His father watched him for a second before nodding and bidding him goodbye with his mother. Kiril could undo his hair by himself but he supposed it was his father’s way of saying ‘you can be a pain in my ass but I still love you’. There wasn’t any hesitation left and he knew exactly where he was going. To the kitchen then to the training grounds.

It wasn’t that difficult for him to stumble across the kitchen either… Sneaking in would most likely be the most difficult part. His eye glanced into the giant room that was home to pots, pans, foods, knives, and other utensils. Only a single fae stood within, fidgeting with some pans. She was like every other summer fae but not. Short white hair, dark skin, and even those bright blue eyes. Kiril hadn’t realized he was standing in the doorway while staring intently at her until a frying pan left her hand, aimed straight at his head. Lucky for him and his training he managed to hastily duck down while looking back at the pan, now strewn across the hallway.

“I’m so sorry, Prince!” Instinctually she bowed toward him while visible shivers went up to her spine. The raven-haired male wasn’t quite sure why she seemed so utterly horrified he’d bring his ‘almighty wrath upon thee’ but his head didn’t think too much on it. Her blue dress wrinkled a bit in that bow. It was decorated in many shades of blue and silver lines that went every direction known to man and fae alike.

“It’s fine… What’s your name?”

“Khary, Prince.”

“Just call me Kiril…” Her bright deep blue eyes shot up at him immediately as if to see if he was serious.

“Krill? Like shrimp?” Kiril did a double take for second as his eyes bore into hers. Khary looked completely innocent at that moment too as if she hadn’t suggested his father named him after a shrimp-like creature.

“No, Kiril… Kuh-rill.”

“That’s what I said, Krill!” He really couldn’t tell if her innocence was just a facade or an actual part of her personality. A groan came out of his mouth at the mere thought of people calling him Krill. He didn’t have anything against the animals but it wasn’t exactly an ideal name either.

“Right, well I came here to get something then I’m leaving.” Kiril walking toward a basket of freshly baked rolls as his cold hands gripped two without care. It wasn’t like Khary would stop him, besides if she tried he just tell her to stop. True to his thoughts Khary made no attempt at stopping him but instead continued to hang pans up in their respective places. The two barely interacted beyond that as Kiril left to train as promised to his father.

Part 1 | Part 2

[wingsandfics]

Wings and Shadows || Azriel - one

Azriel never thought he'd have trouble finding his words, but when a knife flew inches past his head and implanted itself into the tree mere steps behind him, they failed him. He took in the attacker, a young female Illyrian with jet black hair that fell near her collarbone and eyes the darkest shade of Onyx he had yet to witness in his over 500 years of existence. Her face expressed such a cruel beauty that he couldn't tear his eyes off of her. She wasn't beautiful, not in the mundane way of it anyway. Her face was rough shaped and angular, eyes a little too big for her face and lips a sensual pout, her nose somewhat turned upwards, was slightly crooked to the side, from training he assumed, and her cheekbones were prominent yet elegant. The look on her face, however, was anything but. She looked at him with wicked delight, a predator's smirk spread on her slightly tanned face, showcasing her white teeth.

The man next to him froze. Devlon, usually ready to strike a male down with his words seemed at a loss too. Cassian was the first to speak, breaking the awkward silence. His brother's voice made him tear his eyes off of the girl. It sounded cool and calculated, but he knew better than to believe his act. He saw the look on his face when that knife flew past his head. He was in downright shock.

"I take that as a no." His grin was a weak attempt to deflate the conflict.

Devlon found the nerve to speak at last and pinned the girl down with a stare. She didn't seem impressed by him or his attempt at being in control of the situation.

"You are in no position here to say no, girl." He paused a second, probably bracing himself for her response but she just fell into a killing calm that sent chills down Azriel's spine. She looked like she could split them open with a slash of her knife. He didn't know if he found that comforting or not.

The fact that she looked so much like a warrior meant that the girls were finally training like they were supposed to and how Rhysand had ordered. Or at least she was, but the way she carried herself make him uneasy. Not sure what to expect.

"The General and the Shadowsinger will stay in your house, since it belonged to the High Lord long before it belonged to you. You will move your things to one of the tents and if I hear you complain or make a scene out of it you will not be allowed to train for the period of time these two here are to join us. Understood?" His tone was cold and had a somewhat lethal undertone. The fact that he acknowledged Cassian's and his positions was rare and Devlon probably did so with the intention of convincing the girl.

It didn't seem to work.

She stared him down, her gaze moving past Cassian and examining him too, then Devlon and turning back to him. Nothing short of ruthless could be seen on her face. Azriel's breath hitched.

"It is your fault that they are dead. Let me mourn them, live in the house that they used to once fill with their presence. That house and everything in it is all I have left of them. And it is your damn fault. Find them another house. There are plenty free, you just want to punish me for disobeying you, but look where following your stupid orders got me?" She pointed an accusatory finger at Devlon who seemed to stop breathing. He seemed surprised at her outburst but managed a forced laugh.

He hadn't known. When Devlon told them that their usual house was occupied and that it might be tricky to free it, he didn't let himself think as far as that. He heard about the rebel attack that killed a good number of Illyrians from Devlon's camp. That is why Rhys send them here, to oversee the training of both males and females and make sure such outbursts and loses don't happen again.

"That's more words that you deigned to speak to me in weeks. We're making progress, it seems." He mused his next words for a few moments and then added with more authority than before. "If you do not wish to move out, don't. But they will stay in that house regardless of you throwing knives at us all night." There was little room for argument in his tone and the girl seemed to understand that too because she just gave him a look that promised nothing but a painful death and took off without another word.

The sound of her wings followed him all the way inside the house where a slightly sweet smell struck him dead in his boots. There was food on the table already, some sort of soup and something that looked and smelled like steak and a cake with a piece missing. Everything else looked clean and neatly arranged. Cassian dropped in a chair at the table and already started eating when Azriel spoke, his voice a little rough from not using it for the majority of the day.

"Do you think she cooked all this?" He sent some of his shadows to look for anyone else in the house while he carefully sat himself at the table. When they returned, he started eating. One of them curled around his hand, up his arm and stopped when it reached his ear.

No one here, master.

It whispered and then went to join the others in the dark corners of the room and at his legs.

Cassian replied at last, after emptying his bowl of soup. "Probably. Don't think anyone else bothered to sneak in here and cook for us." He grinned, remembering probably all the other times he had to cook when they came up here. "She seems interesting." He mused. "At lest we know the girls are training..." he laughed. Azriel was about to reply when the door opened and closed shut hard enough for them to pick up who had entered. She probably wanted them to. Her steps were soft when she entered the room and discarded her weapons on a chair not bothering to acknowledge them. She was about to take off the knives she had across her chest, one missing from its slot, the one she threw at him earlier, when the door slung open again and an angry male voice echoed through the small house.

"You bit-" before the male had the chance to finish his sentence another knife flew through the air and found its mark near his ear, slightly cutting him. He stopped dead in his boots, his Illyrian leathers dirty with mud.

"Get out." Her tone was cold and lethal, a warning for the male to back off while he still could.

"If you think you throwing knives at me all day will stop me from kicking your ass for the stunt you pulled with me earlier... you're wrong."

Another knife flew and implanted itself in the wall behind the male, between his legs, low enough to miss him but still close enough to make the male stop talking and go deathly pale.

Azriel had to give credit to the girl, she knew how to throw her knives. And her calm was unrelenting, it unsettled him. The temperature in the room seemed to cool despite the burning fire that cracked in the corner.

"Your are disturbing my" she seemed to fight the next word out "guests." She finished glancing briefly at him and Cassian, then her attention focused again completely on the male. He seemed to acknowledge them then and turned even paler. He seemed to want to say something but she cut him off again. "Now, if you have a problem with me kicking yours ass in the ring you should stop throwing your bullshit at me. I suggest you go before my next knife finds its mark." She winked at him with a feral smile spread across her face, her features darkened a little, and her eyes seemed to gleam in the subtle light of the candles. Shivers ran down Azriel's spine at the sight of her. He could tell Cassian was equally impressed by the girl.

The male, to his credit, seemed to understand the message and took of quickly, with a look that promised death speed across his face. When he turned to Cassian, the exact same look was displayed on his face as well. Azriel and Cass grinned at each other before turning to face the girl.

"Rhys is going to be pissed when he finds those holes in the wall." Cassian mused with amusement playing in his eyes. He seemed to genuinely like the girl despite her previous outburst when her knife was aiming for Azriel's head.

"Yes, well, I'll patch it up if that will shut you up." She grinned at him and at last unstrapped her knives from her body and put them on the chair next to the other weapons. She made for the wall and took out the other two knives.

"Thank you for the food." Azriel said at last, trying to seem unfazed by the fact that she honestly seemed she couldn't care less that they were going to be sharing this house for the next few weeks. He decided he liked her for that. "It was really good. Who taught you how to cook?" He realized his mistake when the girl stopped in the middle of the room and gave him a killing look. All amusement from before gone.

"My mother." She replied in a cold tone and continued to make for the stairs. "The first room on the right in mine. You can take the others." She murmured and silently walked up the stairs.

"Good job, brother." Cassian patted him on the shoulder and made for the stairs as well, after putting his plate in the sink.

They wished each other good night and Azriel made it to his usual room, the second on the right, passing the first one with careful consideration, trying to pick up any movement but got nothing. When the door to his room closed shut and he dropped onto the bed he heard it then. The sobs.

She was crying. So soft that it was barely audible. But still, she was crying. That mask she so utterly unfazed displayed was so strong he found himself caught off guard when the sound of her uneven breathing reached him.

He didn't know why he felt the urge to send his shadows to comfort her.

[captain-kingliamsqueen]

Knight in Shining Armor

just something ive been dabbling with.

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Summary:…Riley's having a hard time dealing with madeleine…will Liam be her knight in shining armor? 

Based on the episode at Kiara's estate.

Word Count: 2,641

Masterlist <—–

Tagged : @starstruckzonkoperatorbat  @drakelover78  @queencatherynerhys@devineinterventions2 @jayjay879  @kawairinrin  @hopefulmoonobject @flyawayblue56  @gardeningourmet  @blackcatkita  @syltti78  @theroyalweisme  @hhiggs  @mfackenthal  @bruteforcebears @pens-girl-87 @barbaravalentino @umccall71 @darley1101@crookedslimecreatorpasta @jamjar84@starstruckpixelberryhistoryvoid @speedyoperarascalparty @katurrade @scarlettedragon @zeniamiii @annekebbphotography @liam-rhys @xxrainbowprincessxx

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I SINCERELLY APPOLOGISE IF I MISSED ANYONE, IM TRYING TO KEEP TRACK OF WHO WANTS TAGGED AND STUFF, IM GONNA PUT A POST OUT TO SEE WHO WANTS TO BE PERMANENTLY TAGGED!

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance! 

  Due to the time that the court arrived at Kiara’s estate, everyone just headed to their rooms to settle in for the night. Once Riley reached her room, she showered then changed into her nightwear, as she pulled her shorts up there was a gentle knock at her door. She smiled to herself guessing who it was, she headed over to open the door to be greeted by her fiancé, King Liam

“hey” she whispered drowsily as she made her way over to the bed, sitting down at the end, pulling her feet up under her.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked concerned as he sat beside her wrapping his closest arm around her.

“yeah, I’m just not feeling too great”

Riley whispered as she leaned her head on his shoulder. He gently placed his palm on her head 

“you feel a little warm” he sighed

“Mmmm”

Riley mumbled as she started to doze off on his shoulder

“Do you need anything?”

he whispered as he ran his hands through her hair.

“no, I’m okay, thank you” she yawned

“Why don’t we get you to bed” he whispered as he reached behind him and pulled the duvet back then turned and lifted Riley like a princess before putting her into bed, he covered her with the duvet “I’ll come back and check on you in a few hours” he whispered then placed the most gentle kiss on her head.

“Goodnight Liam” she whispered

“Goodnight sweetheart” he smiled before leaving the room closing the door behind him.

The next morning, around 6 am Riley was woken by a loud knock on her door.

“go away” she mumbled tired from her rough night’s sleep. She groaned as she heard the door open then slam shut.

“How are you still in bed? You should have been up hours ago to prepare!!!” Madeleine nagged.

“Madeleine…its 6 am…the sun isn’t even up yet”

“Not the point! Get up! Meet me in the boutique in 20 minutes!” She demanded before walking out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

“Why…why…why” Riley mumbled tiredly as she climbed out of bed keeping the duvet wrapped around her, she was heading over towards the closet where her robe hung when she suddenly felt the urge to throw up, she dropped the blanket and ran towards the bathroom instantly dropping to her knees before emptying her stomach.

An hour later Riley lay on the Sofa in her room exhausted. She had been down to meet with madeleine to decide on her outfit for the event, she was going to meet with her again later to prep her for the day, she closed her eyes for a moment trying to take her mind off of the sick feeling. She was startled by a knock at her door.

“who is it?” she called

“Its Liam”

“you can come in its fine” she replied. Liam walked in closing the door behind him, he walked over, instantly kneeling beside Riley on the Sofa placing his palm on her cheek.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked

“Exhausted” she sighed “sick”

“maybe you shouldn’t go to the art exhibit” he worried

“no! I’m going, I’m sick not dead, I’ll be there” she whispered

“are you sure?”

“100%” she smiled weakly

About 30 minutes later, Riley had gotten dressed and been prepped for day. Once she was ready she headed down to the sitting room to meet with Liam so that they could go to the gallery to make sure everything was set up and ready, whilst she waited for Liam she sat talking to Kiara’s Father about past exhibits they had done. Their conversion was interrupted when Francesco came running into the room Panicked.

“Francesco what’s wrong?” she asked standing to her feet immediately. He took a shaky breath as he ran his hands through his hair. “I went for a walk to the gallery just to make sure everything was going okay…but there’s been a terrible disaster!”

“no, no, no!” she whispered to herself before calling Liam and their friends down whilst Francesco caught his breathe.

“Riley said there was an emergency. What happened?” Liam asked panicked

“The gallery…the whole floor has been completely flooded!!...and it was no accident!!”

“You think it was sabotage? But who would do something like that?” Hakim asked

“I bet it was the attackers…this is just the kind of event they would target!!” Riley sighed

“Wasn’t Bastian investigating a ‘sons of earth’ group?” Hana asked

“He thought they might have been connected to that video…but the investigation didn’t turn up any useful leads” Liam sighed

“If not them then who?” Hakim asked

“The liberal core perhaps. If they saw this event as a rallying point for the people…”

“That’s all the invitation they would need to ruin the party!” Drake finished Liam's sentence.

“I’ll have the kings guard secure the area at once!” Liam stated

“In the meantime, we must cancel the festival” Francesco sighed

“There are representatives from over a dozen different countries here. I promised them a chance to showcase their work…but I suppose I’ll have to let them down” Hakim frowned

“Maybe we don’t have to cancel” Riley thought out loud

“Perhaps I haven’t conveyed the full extent of the flooding…” Francesco stated confused

“No, no, listen…we can spin this as an art installation! We can say it’s an interactive piece…about the rising tide of Cordonia's future!! Despite the turbulent waves of fortune, we sail on toward a brighter tomorrow!”

“That’s exactly the kind of message Cordonia needs to hear right now!” Liam smiled

“I can help spread the word…maybe a hashtag!!” Maxwell walked away talking to himself.

“The more exclusive it sounds the better!” she called after him

“Okay…plan of action…I will change out of this lovely dress into some other clothes and head down to the chateau to start clearing it up a little, drake…you need to go with Olivia and pick up rain boots…different colours…bright! Liam…-”

“I will start making some calls!!” He smiled

“Hana…we need Banners…”

“On it” she smiled as she walked away.

“Hakim…keep those guests occupied!” Riley smirked

“Francesco…”

“Yes?”

“…breathe…just make sure that where ever your help is needed you’re there!” she smiled

“Okay…we have 5 hours…let’s go!!” Riley smiled as she watched everyone disperse everyone except Liam. He just stood and looked at her smiling. Once everyone was out of the room he took her hand in his.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked

“A little…but I’m still exhausted” she sighed

“Are you sure you should be doing this?”

“Yes” she smiled

“You don’t even know how proud of you I am…you handled that like a true queen” he smiled.

“I was brought up to make do with what you’ve got…these are the cards that were dealt to us…now we must use them to our advantage”

“I love you so much” he smirked before kissing her

“I love you to…now go! March!! On the phone!!!” she giggled as she shooed him out of the room. she headed to the kitchen where she found some cleaning supplies that she would need. Once she had everything, she headed out to the chateau with Mara on her tail.

by the time it hit 1 o’clock Riley headed back to the estate to change then she met Liam outside to head down to the gallery. Once they reached the door, they were handed a pair of rain boots each, they quickly pulled them on then stepped inside. As they entered the building Liam gasped.

“Riley…this place looks…you wouldn’t think that this wasn’t supposed to be here” he whispered the last part as he smiled

“You’ve done amazingly!” He added before pecking her lips.

“C’mon let’s go have a look around” he smiled as he squeezed her hand, they started looking around.

Once the guests started to leave, the stalls and merchandisers started to pack their things up.

“Are you ready to go?” Liam asked smiling

“No, I’m going to stay and help them clean up…this was more than all of us bargained for including the staff here”

“Are you sure? You weren’t feeling too good earlier, are you feeling better?”

“No but I don’t want to leave the staff to do it all, they’ll be here all night, I know what it’s like when your left to clean up after everyone, the more help they get, the better” she sighed

“Would you like me to stay?” He asked smiling

“Yes, but you can’t you have a meeting in 30 minutes” she smirked before leaning in and pressing her lips to his

“I’m sorry” he chuckled

“Its fine” she giggled

“You better go, I don’t want you to be late”

“Okay I’ll see you later?” He smiled

“Maybe” Riley giggled as she gently kissed him then waved goodbye as he left.

*3am*

After getting all the water out, getting the place dried as much as they could, and just generally getting the place cleaned and locked up it was hitting 3am Riley headed back to the estate where she was met with darkness, everyone but Mara and herself were sleeping or at least in their rooms.

“I’m sorry for keeping you up till this time Mara” Riley Apologised

“Don’t worry about it” Mara smiled. Both women headed upstairs to the bedroom, as they came to Riley's door they stopped

“Thank you, for keeping me safe” she smiled

“No need, it’s my job”

“Yes, but it’s a job that has your put your life in danger for someone else, so I look up to you for that” she smiled causing Mara to smile

“thank you...your grace..Okay…goodnight your grace” she bowed slightly then headed away, “good night Mara” she replied, once she was in her room she changed then quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth then she headed to Liam's room next door, hoping he would still be awake.

Riley quietly opened Liam's door to see the room in darkness, she could just make out his shape on the bed, she smiled to herself then closed the door, tiptoeing over trying not to wake him then she lifted the duvet and climbed into the bed, lifting his arm so that she cuddle into his chest then he instinctively wrapped her arms around her.

“What time is it?” He mumbled…crap.

“Its 3 am go back to sleep” she whispered

“I wasn’t sleeping…I was only half asleep” he whispered

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I was just waiting for you to get back…what happened? How are you just getting back?”

“We were removing all of the water and getting the place dried…we didn’t want anything happening to the artwork from the moisture in the room”

“Ah I see…you know you and I could get into trouble for this” he smirked

“I know but…I’m so tired and madeleine is going to be banging on my door at 6 am so I’m hiding out here…no funny business I just want to sleep, I’m sick and I’m tired”

“6am?” He asked, “why is she getting you up at 6am?”

“She always does…she says “I can’t believe your still sleeping its 6am…I can never understand your commoner ways” I sighed

“She’s just jealous she lost the crown” he smirked “there’s no need to be up at that time …I’m the king and I don’t get woken up until 8am, I’ll speak to her” he whispered before pecking her head.

“Did you enjoy the festivities?” He asked unknown to him that by this point Riley was already fast asleep when she didn’t reply he looked down at her confused

“Riley?” He called then he realised she was sleeping.

“Poor thing” he whispered sympathetically as he held her tight “get better soon” he added before he fell asleep.

 *6:10am*

Riley was woken up to madeleine knocking on Liam's door well knocking isn’t really the word for it…the door was nearly off the hinges.

“Riley? I know you’re in there!”

“Lady Madeleine! The king doesn’t get woken up until 8! He won’t be happy if you wake him!”

“She’s in there isn’t she!” She retorted to Bastian

“That doesn’t matter…that’s no longer your business!”

“Let me past!” She replied loudly

“No…you can’t go in!” he stood tall.

“Bastian!! Let Me Past!” She emphasized every word. As her voice got louder Liam started to wake up.

“What’s going on?” He mumbled

“She found me” Riley whispered still half asleep cuddled into him. “I’m sorry for bringing her to your door” she sighed

“Hey…don’t ever apologise…this isn’t your fault” he leaned over and kissed her head “go back to sleep…ill deal with it” he climbed out of bed, he pulled a t shirt on and some lounge pants then he walked over to the door. Once he threw it open she shut up quickly.

“Duchess Madeleine WHAT is the meaning of this?” he scolded

“Your Majesty” she whispered taken back as she slightly bowed her head. “I apologise I didn’t mean to wake you” she clamoured

“Well you did! What is it?” he asked annoyed

“I’m looking for Lady Riley…”

“I think you mean Duchess Riley and she’s sleeping…hiding from you actually so that she could actually get some sleep she came here last night so that you wouldn’t wake her up…its 6 in the morning madeleine!”

“Your Majesty I understand that, but she needs to be prepped about-”

“No madeleine…she can be prepped when she wakes at 8 o’clock! Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,”

“What time did you return from the festivities yesterday?”

“Umm…10 o’clock like everyone else” she looked confused

“No madeleine not like everyone else… Riley didn’t return until 3 am this morning because she refused to leave until all of the water was gone and the art was secured…she stayed there all night to help clear up and to make sure no harm came to any of the paintings”

“Well isn’t that the cleaners jobs?”

“And that madeleine is exactly why Riley will be the better queen…she doesn’t see the world the way that you do…the ways she sees it is…she is just like anyone else it’s not below her to help in a disaster!! She isn’t well at the minute and she still refused to leave until everything was done…she needs to rest…from now on she will not be woken until 8am…she can be prepped then…she isn’t stupid… she spends her free time learning about what she needs to know…if you want her to be a good queen…she has to have the energy to do it…you can’t expect her to go on only a few hours’ sleep and still do her best…she can’t do her best if she can’t focus because she’s tired.”

“I know your trying to do your job madeleine, but you must be considerate of other people”

“Now…I’m a very busy man…I only get so much time to sleep…may I return to my room?”

“Of course, I’m sorry I woke you” she whispered then bowed before walking away. Liam closed the door then let out a sigh on his way back to bed. He climbed under the duvet, wrapping his arms around Riley, causing her to cuddle into his chest

“thank you, Liam” she whispered with her eyes shut, still half asleep.

“go back to sleep, you need to rest”

“Sweet dreams Liam” she whispered

“Sweet dreams Riley”

[thebluemartini]

TIME - Part 2 {Nessian Fanfic}

Here’s Part 2 to my Nessian two-shot Time. Part 1 can be found here, but isn’t necessary to read before Part 2. :)

TITLE: Time (Part 2) 

SYNOPSIS: Post-ACOFAS. (Takes places after the teaser for the next book that’s at the end of ACOFAS, therefore there are spoilers!) Nesta reacts to the plan.

*This is also posted on AO3

“Excuse me?” Nesta said with a spark of outrage.

Cassian took a deep breath and prepared for the volcano that was Nesta Archeron to erupt with anger.

“You’re coming with me to the Illyrian Mountains,” he repeated calmly, praying she would not explode over this news. Maybe for once the gods would look down kindly upon him...

Nesta sat still and scowled at him.

“No,” she replied sternly, crossing her arms against her chest. “I refuse.”

Cassian groaned out of frustration, although he couldn’t say he was surprised at her stubbornness. Lately, it had been so hard to get through to her, let alone have a decent conversation with her that didn’t end with him stewing in anger. His patience with her attitude was wearing thin.

Feyre quickly interjected before Cassian could speak again.

“Staying in Velaris is not an option. We’ve given you job opportunities, and yet you’ve chosen none. Instead, you have been squandering the money we’ve freely given you. If you go to the Illyrian Mountains, you’ll still be given an allowance. But if you choose not to go, then we will no longer financially support your current lifestyle.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to do in the Illyrian Mountains?” Nesta wondered, still speaking in a loud, annoyed tone.

“With the Illyrians, you can learn how to cook, clean, and train to become a warrior,” Cassian answered, miraculously still managing to restrain himself from raising his voice.

“I know how to cook and clean,” she stated snobbishly.

“Oh sure, the current state of your apartment and your unhealthily thin body are prime examples of that,” Cassian replied sarcastically.

Nesta scrunched up her nose, clearly still fuming. “Why would I need to become a warrior?”

“So you can defend yourself.”

“I’ve been able to take care of myself!” she exclaimed sharply.

“Your bullshit behavior proves otherwise,” Cassian spat back emphatically, unable to reign in his rage.

Nesta let out a frustrated groan as she stood up with her hands curled up into fists at her sides. “What makes you all think that you can dictate and decide what I do in life?” she said as she glanced around at the faces of Cassian, Feyre, Rhysand, and Amren. “First, I had no choice when I was turned into a Fae. Now I am forced to live life as a Fae and have no choice in how I do so?!”

Cassian’s breath stilled upon hearing her words.

While Nesta’s voice was full of rage, he could see a trace of sadness in her steel eyes.

Feyre gave her a sorrowful look. “Nesta…” she said softly. “We just want to help you.”

Nesta just shook her head and strolled out of the room.

Cassian stared at the spot where he had last seen her standing as his mind processed what she had just said. Feyre, Rhysand, and Amren all sat in silence, and he assumed they were all rethinking if their plan for her was the best idea.

But he wished she understood what he saw. In the days since Feyre told him of her plan, the more he realized that among the Illyrians would be a right fit for her. She was a woman of strength. She persevered. She was a survivor. She had a fire within her that didn’t need to be tamed but unleashed. One that could help ignite the female Illyrians to be bold and want to fight.

With a sigh, Cassian stood up to go after her. He couldn’t let her go on feeling like that. She needed to understand...even though he knew whatever they’d say to each other next would likely just be more anger-filled words toward each other. But he had to at least try to get through to her.

When he exited Feyre and Rhys’ home, he immediately found her stalking along the nearby river heading in the direction of the city.

The way the sunlight filtered through the tall trees around them and shone upon her golden-brown hair made her look angelic...except the irritated look on her face dispelled that notion.

The various branches and leaves upon the ground crunched beneath his feet as he charged towards her. “Nesta!” he called out.

Her pace quickened right after he spoke. “Go away,” she yelled back without even looking behind her.

Cassian in turn picked up his pace so he was within arm’s reach of her. He stretched out his hand and grabbed her elbow to stop her before she could bolt away. “Nesta,” he said gently.

“Don’t touch me!” she shouted as she tugged her arm away from him. Cassian instantly dropped her elbow as if he had been burned by the contact.

“Nesta, we just want to help you.”

Nesta halted and turned around to face him. “Tell me, Cassian, do you honestly want me to go to the Illyrian Mountains with you?”

“Yes,” he said firmly.

“Liar,” she fired back.

“It’s the truth!”

“Why?” she yelled in his face. “Why would you want me to go with you?!”

“Because I... I want you to heal from all you’ve had to suffer. I want you to see that your life is worth living. I want you to enjoy life as a Fae,” he answered in a more fiery tone than he had intended. “I want the brave woman who was on the battlefield willing to die with me back,” he added softly.  

Nesta’s body froze at his words and her previously irritated facial expression evolved into one that was emotionless. He had brought up the one thing they had had an unspoken agreement to never discuss.

She looked down at the grass beneath her feet, contemplating his words, and declined to gift him with a incensed retort. A strand of her hair fell out of its bun when she shifted her head. Instinctively, Cassian reached out his hand with the intention of pushing it behind her ear, but was quick to stop himself upon remembering Nesta’s demand that he not touch her. He dropped his hand back at his side.

“We’ve all been affected by the war in different ways,” Cassian continued quietly. “We all have our own ways to cope and heal. And we think there’s a chance that learning from the Illyrians will help you find your strength again. We only want you to go because we want you to be free from this pain.”

“Who says I’m in pain?” Nesta lifted her head to stare defiantly back at Cassian.

“Your behavior,” he sternly replied.

“I get money whenever I want, drink whenever I want, and sleep with whoever I want,” she explained sharply. “I’m fine.”

“Now who’s the liar?” Cassian’s anger began to surface once more.

“Listen, you lunk, you don’t know how I feel!”

“Then, please enlighten me,” Cassian pleaded, still frustrated.

Nesta crossed her arms against her chest and shook her head as she turned away from him.

Cassian took a deep breath to cool down his anger. “Are you happy?” he asked calmly while staring at the back of her head.

The two stood in silence for a moment, listening only to the sounds of the breeze rushing through the leaves in the trees.

“I don’t feel anything, Cassian,” she stated seriously. “I feel nothing.”

Once again, Cassian fought the urge to reach out and touch her. He wanted to grab her shoulder and turn her around to face him. Instead, he walked around her body to face her once more.

“Do you want to be happy?”

Nesta shrugged. “Life’s easier when you can’t feel anything.”

Cassian refrained from letting out a grunt of frustration at her stubbornness. She had allowed the darkness of her grief to consume her. He still had to find a way to pull her out of this...

“Is there anything I can do to make you want to go?” He didn’t want her to feel like she had no choice in going to the Illyrian Mountains. Perhaps there was something he could do that would make it more appealing to her...

She stared at the ground for a bit, appearing deep in thought, as they listened to the wind brush through nearby bushes.

Finally, she turned her head up toward him, squinting in the sunlight.

“Treat me as one of the Illyrians,” Nesta began seriously. “Never speak of the Inner Circle to me. Don’t ever bring up our encounter with Hybern on the battlefield. Never mention anything regarding any of our...interactions before now. You might as well forget that any of them ever happened, and act like you don’t know me.”

Cassian didn’t break eye contact with her as she said this. Instead, he stared into her blue-gray eyes as various memories of her surfaced in his mind.

Their titillating interaction when he was sent to her home and kissed her throat, followed by her kneeing him in between his legs...

Those days he’d visit her at the House of Wind after she had been turned into a Fae to try to talk to her. The one moment post-battle when she nearly revealed that she was upset he hadn’t come by to say hello...

How perceptive she was one night to realize that his arm was injured after another skirmish. The gentleness of her touch as she wrapped his wrist...

The desperation in her voice as she cried out to him. A cry that he heard above the battle around him and prevented him from being obliterated by the Cauldron’s blast.

How she couldn’t leave his side despite his pleas for her to go when he thought he’d die on the battlefield. The softness of her lips when she’d allowed him to give her a light goodbye kiss...

Nesta interrupted his thoughts, evidently getting impatient with him. “If I go with you, do you promise not to bring up any of those things?”

How could he just forget all that happened between them? How could that be the one thing that would make her willing to go? Was he so unworthy that she regretted all that occurred between them? The thought brought an ache to his chest.

He could only hope that in time, the Nesta he knew would return. If this is what it would take, then he was willing to do it.

Ignoring the pain he felt within him, he answered. “I promise,” he said solemnly.

Nesta’s eyes didn’t light up at his words, nor did her mouth curve into a smile. Instead, she remained impassive as she nodded. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

A/N: So I originally had a more hopeful ending in mind...but then I realized it's probably going to take a lot for Nesta to be okay with going to the Illyrian Mountains, so this went in a more angsty direction...(But now I feel inspired to write more hopeful Nessian oneshots to make up for it lol.)Thanks for reading! :)

[rejectedembers]

Firebrant: Shades of Magic

So, here I go again, being a hypercritical bitch about a beloved book, or, rather, series. I want to make it clear right off the bat that I LOVE this series; I love the characters, I love the setting, I love the writing. I’d read this series again in a heartbeat, and no doubt eventually will. That doesn’t mean that I don’t see its flaws and weaknesses, or at least see what it could have been.

Spoilers inbound.

Without a doubt, this series’s biggest strength is its characters. I would even venture out in saying that Schwab doesn’t write characters, but rather people for how real they feel. A big part of this stems from her enchanting, but not overly flowery style of writing; descriptions never overstay their welcome. But these are all things you discover the more you read. The series’s major draw, however, is its setting, or at least that’s what the premise would have you believe.

The blurb on A Darker Shade of Magic immediately informs you of the parallel Londons (Red, Grey, White, and Black), and how only Antari can travel between the worlds. My assumption upon picking up this novel was that the inter-dimensional travel was going to play a significant part in the upcoming tale, and it does...for the first book. But once you get into book 2, characters seem to barely ever travel between the worlds. 

This is especially noticeable in the third book where I don’t think they traveled outside of the Red world at all to resolve the main conflict within the plot. Traveling could have easily been facilitated without even changing much of the plot: the MacGuffin the protags are after could totally have wound up in one of the other worlds at some point in time (I’ll elaborate more on this later). It’s especially annoying since we get constant reminders via Ned’s chapters of how Osaron’s magic seems to be seeping into the other worlds. It’s like Schwab is dangling the possibility of going there in our faces only to never deliver on this promise.

Honestly, the big problem here is simply a lack of world-building. When Schwab does spend time describing even the small, insignificant parts of everyday life, the setting really comes to life. I had very little difficulty imagining all of the Londons despite the fact that I’ve never even been to a single London in my own reality. But after establishing these settings in the first book, Schwab rarely returns to world-building from the perspective of the past. Events and characters become very grounded in the present, and even in flashbacks the focus is generally on the characters and what they were experiencing internally. The Red, White, and even Black worlds start to feel like there just isn’t much history to them, when that can’t possibly be true. And while I agree that it would have been rather tedious to sit through pages and pages of a character expounding on the “grand history of Arnes” or something of the like, there is something in particular that irks me when it comes to the lack of history.

The Antari play such a large role in the series, and yet after everything is said and done, you don’t actually get to know all that much about them. You get to know tonnes about the Antari characters, but almost nothing of the Antari themselves, their culture, their historical roles. Granted, part of the appeal of the Antari is that even they can’t answer what they really are, where their powers came from, why they were chosen, but how Antari come to be and what they decide to do with themselves afterwards are two entirely different groups of questions. It’s mentioned that there were once dozens if not hundreds of Antari prior to the catastrophe that happened in Black London. I find it hard to believe that, even if they each had their own loyalties, some of them wouldn’t have come together to create a unique culture. Even, at least, something more or less academic, trying to find answers to the question of how Antari come to be. 

I was really disappointed to find that the lore of the Antari was never expanded upon. More information on the Antari could have provided a lot of substance to many different areas of the story. The Antari characters could have learnt something about themselves while delving deeper into the mysteries of their predecessors, the concept of a culture of inter-dimensional travelers opens up more opportunities to include traveling in the story, and the plot could have received some much needed resolution for several key questions (I’ll expand on this later, too). 

This leads us to the overarching plot of books 2 and 3, easily the weakest part of the series. I love a good “save the world” plot as much as the next fantasy junkie, but I feel like it was just tackled lazily here: some evil force shows up, threatening to destroy all that the characters love, and they are the only ones who can defeat it. Other than that, there’s not much else to say about the main conflict, no twists or turns in the structure that keep you on your toes. A large chunk of the time was just waiting for the characters to find a solution they can start working on so they can finally have something to do. 

It doesn’t help that Osaron is one of the least compelling villains I’ve read about recently. I feel that Schwab was aiming to make him both a threatening, alien force unable to be reasoned with or properly comprehended by mortals, and a relatable human-ish being with desires and personality. I find him to be a failure on both ends, since the addition of some aspect of humanity completely destroys the image of him as an imposing, unbeatable entity, and he never reaches a level of depth and complexity that the human characters do, making him seem more like a caricature of a villainous person than anything. And this comes in stark contrast to Athos and Astrid, the villains from the first book, although you don’t even know they are the true villains until at least halfway into the novel. They were quite compelling for how they were very human and yet very, very twisted, and I really wished there had been more with them, especially for how they could have contrasted with Holland, showing us what White London is versus what it could be. Obviously, Athos still would have had to die, but it would have been interesting to see Astrid try for revenge or something of the like.

All in all, I don’t think the structure of the series helped. The first book very much feels like a standalone; one or two elements don’t get completely solved, but I also don’t think it was necessary to have seen them get resolved to have still had a full story experience. And while the first book provides set up, the plot of A Darker Shade of Magic feels entirely separate from the plot of A Gathering of Shadows and A Conjuring of Light, and because of this, the entire series feels stilted. Books 2 and 3 are so intertwined they might as well be one book, but the jump from book 1 to 2 is downright jarring in comparison. To be honest, I prefer the jump from 1 to 2 over 2 to 3, but considered as a whole, the lack of a continuous plot through all three books (or the lack of dedication to a series of single book adventures) definitely makes it seem like Schwab only intended to write one book but somehow came out with three.

In general, I would have liked to see a story that had an overarching plot, but included smaller moments of drama and adventure within. The characters are what really make this series stand out, and they shine the brightest when they interact with each other. They needed more time together, conversing and taking part in some action, solving problems together. Setting up almost episodic mini-arcs would have provided a good platform for this.

When it comes to leaving the main plot (mostly) intact, the ending could have been a bit more like this. Lenos could have known of an Inheritor due to his Antari grandmother, and, through tracing its path, they discover that she smuggled it to one of the other worlds (providing a little validation for Kell). Thus, our three Antari travel to either White or Grey London (perhaps Lenos’s grandmother sent it somewhere it could do no harm), and take part in their own little adventure to retrieve it. This would also provide an ideal chance to have them discover and learn from each other and/or their surroundings something about Antari history and culture. Meanwhile, Alucard stays behind with Rhy, and the two discuss what happened in the past (I’m not sure it’s ever explained why Alucard can’t just tell Rhy the truth. Is there a reason why Rhy may not believe him without proof? Seriously, it bugged me how they just never talked it out.). Rhy forgives him either then or later, and Alucard should have a moment where we see him protecting Rhy, making Rhy’s choice later on to have Alucard be an official protector make more sense, especially politically since there would have been witnesses. The three Antari eventually return, and execute their attack (or still have to travel to the ship market since maybe the Inheritor got smuggled around again). The point is the majority of the time spent mostly just sitting around the palace struggling to find a solution would be cut out, or relegated to some much more concise Rhy/Alucard chapters.

There are a few other disappointments I had with the series. Ojka, while an interesting character, is never really given much to do, a moment to shine. Most of the chapters involving her feature her internal thoughts about Holland and what he’s done, but not what she’s done. It feels like she was built up to be and do more, and so is far too quickly killed off. 

I’m also disappointed that there wasn’t some deeper connection revealed between Osaron and the Antari. I really got the sense after A Darker Shade of Magic that there was something about the Antari specifically that resulted in Vitari not being able to immediately take over their minds and bodies, something more than just “they are extra magical and thus extra magically resistant”. Once I got a bit into A Gathering of Shadows, I theorized that everything from Black London, including stones, was a piece of Osaron via his magic, and that Vitari was just a branch of Osaron’s consciousness. Thus, whatever special connection Vitari had to the Antari also applied to Osaron. 

After more solid evidence was given to suggest Delilah was Antari, I came up with a more fully-fledged theory: Osaron was to be the Black London Antari, or at least used to be one prior to absorbing all of the Black world’s magic. This would check out with the general pattern that was emerging: one Antari from each of the worlds. It also made sense logically as only an Antari should have been capable of whatever magic resulted in Osaron claiming it all in his own world. Not to mention this would explain the relative lack of/access to knowledge on the Antari; one of their own practically destroyed an entire reality, and they would not want that happening again. The magic, thus, that connected Osaron/Vitari to the Antari was more than just power, but some mystical tie that exists between Antari. Obviously, this is not what happened at all.

I have a few other, smaller nitpicks. I really wanted to see Kell and Alucard face off in the tournament just to experience the absolute bitterness that would be Kell after being forced to throw the match or else be caught. This would have contrasted well in a later scene of Kell and Alucard fighting side-by-side and discovering that they work well together. I also wanted to see more adventures aboard the Night Spire. It could have been more removed from London, or at least on the outskirts and so available to the group. In any case, the ship got a lot of play early on and build up in general for something much bigger, and for it to pretty much never come back in the main plot was disappointing. Pretty much everything with Ned and King George the IV was a waste of time. I was really hoping that that subplot would go somewhere if only to allow for some inter-dimensional traveling, but unfortunately not. I’m not a fan, either, of the decision to make the series rather dark and depressing by the third book. I understand that the situation was meant to be dire and “real” and adult, but it started to feel cheap once characters just started getting killed off left and right. 

Also, while I feel that the characters were very well-written, there is one thing concerning Kell that has bugged me since the end of the first book: he never seems to feel any real guilt over sending Holland to Black London. Admittedly, Holland was the aggressor, and so I can see Kell not feeling overly guilty about besting him and pretty much killing him in their last duel, but Kell is an Antari and he knows that they heal faster than most and can recover from some otherwise pretty nasty injuries. So, it kind of baffles me that his excuse for why it’s alright that he sends Holland to Black London is because Kell’s sure the other Antari is going to die anyways. Holland did end up recovering, so I just feel that maybe Kell should have known better than to assume. 

In any case, Kell’s never really forced to confront any guilt over the fact that the whole situation is entirely his fault even if it was simply a chain of consequences from one unfortunate choice. The closest we get is that he, eventually, sympathizes with Holland and the poor treatment he’s getting from everyone, because, had he given in at the end of book 2, Osaron would have used his body to get to Red London. If anything, though, this consequence didn’t feel like a result of a decision Kell made, but rather one that Holland made when he first found Osaron in Black London. The reason for Kell’s guilt or regret should come from the decision he made back in book 1 to send Holland to Black London, but there’s never get a good scene of him mulling over this fact, or even approaching Holland about it in a meaningful way. There’s also, that I can remember, no mention of Kell ever feeling that he should be completely responsible for finding a solution to the situation he inadvertently caused. Even if he never vocalizes it, or tries to go out on his own, he just never even thinks about it, and I just find it so incredibly odd that a character like Kell never feels the depth of that guilt either towards Holland or the entirety of Red London.

So, that’s all I have to say on this series, I hope. I do really love this series. It captured me from the onset, and even as I sat there with a critique starting to form in my brain, I couldn’t help but want to read more, for it to go on forever. My complaints are largely things I’ve noticed in retrospect, and aren’t about to deter me from picking up these books again. The Shades of Magic series deserves all the praise it gets, and I hope this rant doesn’t deter anyone from loving it any less.

[acourtofredqueens]

ACOTAR: Wings and Starlight Part 3

Here is part 3! I think this is my favourite chapter so far! You get to see a bit more of the back story to why people are quite protective of Layla. Enjoy!

Tagging : @dreamworld-1997 @crazybookladythings @foreverlovingthenightskies @my-ships-will-never-be-sank

Moonlight glimmered on the Sidra as the group waltzed along the iridescent river that traversed through the City of Starlight. Aidan and Briana skipped ahead laughing, fully enjoying Velaris under the star lit sky and admiring the various stalls that lined the streets.

Behind them Layla and Rhydian walked arm in arm, quietly giggling at the pair in front as they hopped to a food seller and Briana stuffed a huge piece of chocolate cake in her mouth as Aidan quickly paid the man who smiled at their antics. Honestly, Layla had no clue how her cousin managed to eat after the dinner. She was absolutely stuffed to the brim and the sight of food made her actually want to turn and run the other way.

Layla sighed.

She was perfectly content to walk around the city, her city, in the arms of her best friend talking about everything the other missed in their lives. But… it seemed her delightful twin and cousin had other plans as they turned down a street onto the lively square full of shops and bars. Briana always running to the nearest dresses and pulling them against her body in exaggerated poses while Aidan ran his hand through his deep blue tinged hair as he either shook his head or nodded eagerly in mock love. Sometimes, Layla thought, her cousin inherited too much of her father’s sass while she paraded around the city like a princess – like her mother.

It was a cool winter evening and the frost bit into her skin like tiny irritating bugs. Why didn’t I bring a thicker coat? Layla thought to herself as her body began to shiver with cold so in a hope to steal some of his body heat, she huddled even closer to Rhydian. But, Rhydian the oh so ever observant male looked down at her as his chestnut hair fell over his eyes and smiled. That stupid crooked smile that made Layla weak at the knees.

“Are you cold?” Rhydian asked as he put his arm around Layla’s shoulder and pulled her flush against his body.

“A little,” Layla replied, trying not to sound too desperate for warmth. They came to a stop on a bridge as Aidan and Briana rounded a corner. Let them have some fun. Rhydian swiftly stepped away and Layla almost whined. Almost… Until, she noticed him shrugging off his thick coat and putting it around her shoulders. His scent soon cocooned her and she breathed it in, forever encasing it in her memory. Mist and jasmine. Layla smiled in thanks which immediately turned into a frown when she saw Rhydian smiling at her. She looked down to find she had begun to faintly glow which always occurred when she was happy. A rosy blush crept up her cheeks as Layla tried to dim her obvious power.

How embarrassing.

“Oh no, don’t. I like it when you glow, it means I succeeded in making my friend happy,” Rhydian exclaimed, taking a step towards Layla. Layla could do nothing but stare at his beautiful face set in a wide grin as he took in her blushed appearance. Why did her heart beat so fast? Quickly, she shook her head and grinned, “At least one of us does. It’s embarrassing!”

It was - to have her emotions so openly on display.

Rhydian took one step. Then another. “I think it’s cute.” At this point, Layla had to look up at Rhydian’s loving gaze but had to avoid his eyes by looking down, which evidently meant looking at his broad chest, as another blush rose like vines over her cheeks. That was when she realised he was wearing even less clothing than her without his coat keeping him warm.

“Shoot, Rhy! You must be even colder than me! Here, you can have it back. I’m warmer now,” which sounding unconvincing even in her own head. It must have sounded as bad as she thought because Rhydian lightly covered her shoulders with the coat again saying, “No it’s okay. I’m used to the cold.” Layla felt a twinge of guilt.

Of course.

Of course, he was. The Illyrian training camps were in the harshest conditions Layla could imagine. It was as cold as ice. Mostly because it was covered in ice. She wished he never had to return there, that he would do this stupid Blood Rite and then come live in Velaris with his friends. With her.

Layla graciously smiled and accepted his coat again. He was one of the most kindest and caring people she had ever met even though he had grown up in such a gruesome setting that left no room for love. A silence settled over them like a blanket and Layla walked up to the railing and leaned over peering into the glistening reflection. Rhydian’s reflection joined hers on the water undulating with the current as he stepped up to her side.

“I missed you so much Rhy” Layla sighed.

“I missed you too my Petite L’etoile.” The nickname warmed her inside even more than his coat did. She hated to ask but… “When do you have to go back?”

Rhydian looked down, avoiding her gaze. “The day after tomorrow.” No. That was not nearly enough time to be with her best friend. Not nearly enough when they had been separated for almost a year. “That – that’s so soon,” Layla stuttered.

“I know. I’m sorry but there is not a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could be by your side.” Rhydian gently took her delicate hand in his own as she fought to hold back tears. “Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t get into any trouble.” Layla playfully nudged him but still an overwhelming sense of sadness consumed her. Her best friend was being taken from her. Again.

There was no noise except the tranquil lapping of the water as both Layla and Rhydian enjoyed being in the other’s presence. Suddenly, laughter filled the air as Aidan and Briana retreated around the corner to find them. “Hey, that’s where you went! We’re heading to Rita’s if you want to join us?” suggested Aidan.

Rhydian looked to Layla to see what she wanted. Layla reached out into his mind which Rhydian gladly let her in to (Rhys had taught him how to raise and lower his mental shields to be safe.)

Can we stay out here for a bit longer? I want to spend as much time as I can with you.

Of course, my Petite L’etoile. Whatever you want.

“I think we will stay out here for a while, then join you later if that’s alright brother?” Rhydian answered to which Aidan just shrugged and said, “Suit yourself.” Layla giggled at her brother’s mock hurt and just to make him feel better she added, “We will be over soon. Go enjoy yourselves!” Aidan held out his pinkie and Layla slipped hers around it as their magic joined in only a way a twin would as it searched for the other piece to its soul.

“You two with your weird twin things” Briana said as she rolled her eyes. Aidan just chuckled and ruffled her hair and then turned to Rhydian and fist bumped him with a “See you in a bit,” while Briana flattened her wavy hair with a squeak. The two sauntered off and Briana joyfully stamped on Aidan’s foot which Layla could only assume was punishment for messing her hair.

When they were gone, the two of them stood by the river chatting about everything they could think of from life in Velaris to life in the Illyrian camps. When they stopped, they both stood gazing at the water below them wrapped in each other’s warmth. Rhydian turned back to Layla and took both of her hands in his and quietly said, “I haven’t seen you since what happened last year… how are you?” Layla was waiting for him to ask this question so was already prepared to answer it.

By “what happened”, Rhydian meant the incident last year when a rebel group had captured her and… she didn’t want to talk about it but Rhydian had found her and carried her back to her parents and stayed with her in the first two months after the incident to help her recover. He never left her side until he got called back to the Illyrian camps for more training.

“I’m perfectly fine.” Layla lied and sensing her lie, Rhydian raised an eyebrow in question so sighing, Layla continued with her eyes fixed on the water as if it gave her courage to talk about it. “I am fine… I still get nightmares sometimes but… they’re slowly leaving. Father is very protective of me but I understand he doesn’t want it to happen again - to anyone. Physically I’m fine, probably even better than before with my Uncles’ training.” She huffed a laugh. No one had to remind her what had happened to the certain group that attacked her that day. She added softly, “Thank you for staying with me. I never got a chance to say it in person before you left.” She had people send messages to him, usually one of her uncles or even her father to tell him but it didn’t feel as right as saying it now.

Rhydian leaned in and pressed a small kiss on her forehead. This crazy blurred line between them still consistently there.  “You have nothing to be thankful for. I wouldn’t have just left you.” Sensing the mood to take a turn into a pitying atmosphere, Layla playfully tugged on his arm saying, “Come on. Let’s go to Rita’s. The other two will be wondering where we are.”

Rhydian grinned. “Race you.”

Oh it’s on, Layla thought.

Running all the way there, Layla hating to admit she only won because Rhydian let her, they entered the building. Briana and Aidan reached them as soon as they were through the door, pleased they had finally turned up. The four of them danced and drank and sang all night. Layla did not want Rhydian to leave. She did not want him putting his life in danger in the Blood Rite despite knowing he wanted to prove himself to her family. So, she danced and danced with him, wishing to never let him go. Little did she know, Rhydian, holding Layla in his arms as they twirled around the floor was thinking the exact same thing.

That was part 3! Hope you liked it!

[emeraldxmonarch]

Amori Aetherium (Pt. 6)

(Hey guys! Here’s the latest chapter of Amori Aetherium, and I really hope you enjoy it! I tried making it a bit longer than usual, so hopefully its not too cramped or rushed? Again, a gigantic thank you to @voice-addicted for all of her help editing and giving me ideas! This story wouldn’t be possible without all of her help, and without all of you guys reading and supporting me too <3

I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Abuse, derogatory language, mentions of rape!

-SxW)

~Previous Chapter~                                                                  ~Next Chapter~

Feyre stared at the girl lying in front of her, fear shining through her eyes.

Blood coated body like a second skin, her clothes tattered and clinging to her, barely covering her bare body. Where there wasn’t blood, was bruises. Dark blue bruises, looking almost black against her pale skin. Feyre could see the whip marks along her skin, angry welts that screamed out the abuse she went through.

The High Lady struggled not to vomit all over the floor. 

From the corner of her eye, she could see Rhys, see his mask still in place, but she knew. She knew that it caught him off guard, just as it did her. 

“Easy Feyre Darling, Keir will look for any slip. That leech is enjoying this. Don’t let him win.” Rhys’ soft voice slipped through her mental shields, and she welcomed it. It kept her grounded and kept her mask from completely slipping.

“My Lord, this is the whore. She kept her true name concealed from us, and threw herself at members of this Court to keep from discovering her true name and nature. But my nephew,” He motioned to the man standing behind him, “Discovered her sneaking around Velaris, and took her straight to me” Keir walked up behind her, and Feyre’s blood began to pound in her ears. He grabbed her hair, Amarantha’s hair and wrenched her up so roughly that a weak cry escaped her lips, and grinned at Rhys. 

She was going to rip his throat out. 

“My Lord, I present to you-”

“Let her go.” Her voice was colder than Kallias’ ice. 

Rhys stiffened ever so slightly next to her. 

“My Lady...”

“This is an order from your High Lady. Let. Her. Go” Feyre snarled at the end of her words, and it sounded inhuman, and so unlike her. 

She knew she might regret this show of emotion, but seeing his hands on her made her see red.

“Feyre Darling, as much as I love seeing Keir with that gaping fish look on his face, I do believe he isn’t inclined to listen” Rhys’s voice sounded slightly weary, and slightly amused. At least he didn’t seem angry. 

“Then make him listen” 

She could practically feel his eye roll. 

“You heard her Keir. Your High Lady gave you an order. Would you like to witness the consequences of disobeying her?” Rhys purred at Keir, more than happy to stay relaxed in his throne, but the small pulse of power he sent at Keir made him blanch. “I would thoroughly enjoy watching Feyre Darling rip you apart~” Feyre felt a slight burst of pride, because her mate never undermined her.

Keir’s fury rippled off him, to where even Mor shifted slightly towards Feyre and Rhys, Cassian and Azriel already flaring their wings in warning.

Without a word, he dropped Amarantha on the ground and stepped back, with her writhing on the ground in pain.

Cauldron help her.

                                                               ~

Amarantha stared at her High Lady in shock, trying to fathom why she told Keir to let her go. 

Her body screamed in pain, and her mind was running wild at all of the possibilities and theories of why she spoke.

Was it because she wanted to help her?

Or was it because she wanted to end her, herself?

Did she remember seeing her in Velaris, and felt pity?

Or fury at the outsider in her city?

Did she-

Her rapid trains of thought were interrupted by Feyre’s voice, clear and unflinching, “Cassian, take her into my private chambers, Morrigan, accompany him.” Her blood ran cold. Private chambers? To torture her first? But why not here? Would they make it more graphic...? 

Cassian glanced at Feyre before bowing, and stalking over to the shaking girl who laid in a heap in front of the thrones. A pathetic whimper escaped her lips as he drew closer, and he wasted no time in hauling her up into his arms, but his grip was anything but reassuring. 

Would they make him....

“No....Please...” She desperately tried to voice out. She heard rumors of the Commander, and his merciless demeanor. She thought she had accepted her fate, that the pain was deserved, but the fear that crashed into her like the remorseless waves of the sea spoke otherwise. Her vision blurred and became darker, the slight swaying of being in his arms made her nauseous. Amarantha was scared for a life that was continually cruel to her, and she didn’t want to die at the hand of the Commander and the Morrigan. She could feel her consciousness slipping away as they drew away from the Court Throne Room, and just before it completely left her grasp, she sent up a small prayer:

Mother above, grant her mercy. 

                                                            ~

Feyre’s heart tugged painfully at the almost inaudible beg for mercy that girl gave as Cassian took her away. If Mor couldn’t heal her, then they would have to take her to Velaris, otherwise she would die...

“I don’t completely trust her, but I’m glad we listened to you.”

“You should know by now I’m always right” 

Rhys gave a soft mental chuckle, and she was glad he could at least give a soft laugh, it was something.

Feyre couldn’t help but be relieved, that there was no physical resemblance between her and the Evil Queen. Where that bitch was cold and cruel, that girl held a softness that couldn’t be covered by that fear. 

But she still couldn’t bring herself to say her name, to Rhys or to herself. 

Which would very quickly become a problem. 

But she had another problem in front of her to deal with.

“Keir, I’m very inclined to do to you what you did to her,” Feyre let a grin stretch across her face, and reveled in the slight paleness his skin took. “But,” He seemed to slightly relax, “That would be too kind for something like you.” She could hear Rhys’ silent laughter through the bond, as well as the slight weariness. She could feel a stab of guilt that she was worrying him. Keir was a handful at the best of times, so she decided to end this early.

A burst of darkness slammed into Keir, and wrapped itself around his arm, and before he could flinch or fight back, Feyre broke his arm in four different places. 

The exact same places Rhys first broke them when he called her a whore. 

“That’s making one hell of a statement”  

“Good."

“Do not see a healer. If I find out you did, I will make good on what I said earlier”

Keir was a heap on the ground, just as she was, before a few of his men quickly dragged his groaning body away. Rhys took a breath before dismissing the rest of the Court, most of whom trembled in fear at the sadistic High Lady.

“Let’s go Rhys” 

                                                         ~

“Cassian, she’s going to need a healer at this rate.” Mor sighed as she kept her hands outstretched to the unconscious girl in front of her. Cassian stood by the door for the off chance of there being any intruders but his eyes were trained on Mor and that girl...on Amarantha. His mind couldn’t help but wander. 

He thought of the Amarantha, that forced Rhys to serve her all those years.

The Amarantha that terrorized the Courts for her own pleasure.

The Amarantha that tortured Feyre for days for her own amusement.

After all that Amarantha did, to Rhys and Feyre, to his Court and the others, he wonders if this Amarantha is similar in any way.

Or was he being cruel, comparing a girl who quietly begged him for mercy to someone who imprisoned the High Lords of Prythian for forty-nine years?

“Cassian!” He jumped and looked at Mor, who was obviously irritated at this point. “Cassian she needs a healer, and I don’t know where Feyre and Rhys stand on bringing her back to Velaris. I highly doubt a single healer in this Court will go near her, or if they do, will do the proper job” He sighed and walked towards them. 

She had a point. She had been whipped cruelly so, he imagined the only reason she didn’t bleed out from that alone was because of some rudimentary medicine that had been given to keep stringing her on. Parts of her body were swelling around the welts scattered across her body and the state of her clothes...well it was clear they didn’t spare her any dignity. 

Despite her name, and the caution around her, Cassian couldn’t completely quell the rage that quickly bubbled to the surface. No one deserved that. To be beaten and tortured so furiously that she used the last of her strength to beg for mercy. She trembled furiously in his arms, before losing consciousness. 

There was a slight burst of power, before both Rhysand and Feyre winnowed into the room.

“Rhys, Feyre, she needs a healer.” Mor didn’t waste any time, “If we’re going to help her, we need to bring her back to Velaris”

Rhys’ face was apprehensive, but seeing the state she was in.. “Mor, take her to the Townhouse. We’ll call the healer there.” Feyre took his hand and squeezed it, before Mor picked Amarantha up, and winnowed away. 

Rhys only waited a second, before the Shadowsinger joined them, and winnowed the rest of them back to the house. 

Little did they know, how complicated the situation was to become.