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m-oddinsdottir · 1 month

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COLD STEEL

the shadowsinger and the traitor .ˊˎ 🗡️

Azriel x Fem! Reader

Words: 2,674

Warnings: takes place in acowar so it may contain SPOILERS from previous books, archeron sister reader, use of a dagger, reader is tied up, angst, betrayal, no use of y/n, mating bond, fluff, images above do not depict reader’s appearance it’s just for aesthetic and I think that’s it

Summary: When your real intentions are discovered by the Inner Circle of the Night Court, you have to face the consequences. Your mate and the cold steel of Truth Teller.

A/N: friendly reminder that english isn’t my first language so please feel free to correct me <3 this is my first one shot for acotar so of course it had to be about azriel

Masterlist

•••

Gods, how did you end up in this situation? Wrists tied behind your back and a rope that served as a muzzle inside your mouth to prevent yourself from making any sound… Any sound that could mess up with your mate's closed-up mind.

No. You knew exactly why you were there. It was all your fault and because of what? A blinding desire for revenge? Or perhaps it was childish behavior that had made you reach out to the wrong person?

But you were young. Immature. Compared to all those creatures you had sworn once in your life to hate and that now your sister considered a family. They were centuries old, you were just turned twenty-one when it happened.

Twenty-one before your mortality had been taken away from you, in front of your eyes, while you were slowly sunk inside that turbid water of what they had called "The Caldroun"... A powerful source of magic, creator of the world known and theft of yours and your sisters' mortality.

But as theft, as The Cauldron was, it was also generous. So it gifted powerful abilities that seemed to differ from others in that magical end of The Wall.

As a mortal, your impulsivity sometimes took a thick control over your logical sense. And when you were turned High Fae, that only increased. The process of adaptation was hard. You could hear, see, and feel everything. Everything you had ignored before. And the desperation of not knowing how to stop it made you act.

And the King of Hybern was the only solution.

Or so you thought, less than a year as an immortal and you had already made your biggest mistake. He promised he would help you with the emerging powers. You believed him. He swore that if you desired it, he would return your mortality. You believed him. He convinced you it was all Feyre's fault. You believed him.

And the only requirement? You would become his spy. All you had to do was watch and tell. And you stupidly agreed.

Easy job. You already hated all of them... It was their fault you had ended up being swallowed by the Cauldron and resurfaced as one of them. You just had to do as the King said, keep Nesta and Elain protected until the King would turn the three of you mortal again, and then... Then you would figure it out. It was easy, right?

It was easy knowing that you were working with the male who plotted to kill the sister who had saved you from starvation. Even easier witnessing the love they shared, the love of a family... A family bonded by the drawbacks of time and the burdens they had fought together.

Gods...

And it was even easier to betray the male who had silently been by your side, wanting to help and protect you without being invasive. His quiet and cold presence was even more reassuring than a gentle caress or a hug and before you realized, you desired to spend more time with him... Not only in silence.

When the bond snapped, it wasn't a surprise but a relief for Azriel to be able to call you his mate... On the other hand, for you, it was what changed everything.

You were trapped, being suffocated by the feeling of betrayal and consternation. And every time you slept by his side when you were in the comfort of being surrounded by him and him only, silent tears escaped your eyes.

Said eyes widened slightly when he entered the stance where you had been tied up. Azriel was silent, but not his usual comforting silence. The male that looked at you now was someone completely different from the male that held you through the nights, wings wrapped around your body to shield you from any harm.

Your eyes moved lower to his scarred hands, eyes closing tightly as you noticed that Azriel was gripping Truth Teller. The dagger's blade caught the only traces of light that filtered through the darkness of the room and your throat closed as the tears began to pool in your closed eyes, dropping down your cheeks into the muzzle.

Azriel didn't say a word as he approached you. He didn't even flinch when he saw your tears as he usually did every time you cried in front of him. No, he just moved to free you from the muzzle around your lips.

He was determined to make you talk. Your mate seemed willing to torture you until he got any valuable information out of you... Or, at least, an explanation.

Your heart ached at the thought and unconsciously your pain traveled through the bond making Azriel's breath hitch before he shook his head.

‘Azriel...’ You mumbled beggingly, your voice sounding strained with emotion. But not because of the muzzle, the rope around your wrists, or the thought of being tortured... Those were the least of your concerns as you observed the male before you.

He didn't answer. ‘Azriel, please...’ You tried again and he looked into your eyes, no emotions visible in his hazel irises. Almost as if he had shut them down. A sob escaped your lips. ‘Please, please... Just—’

Azriel interrupted you. ‘You are not going to trick me anymore.’

The coldness in his words made you fight against the ropes that were wrapped around your wrists. ‘I didn't—!’ Lie. You did trick everyone into thinking you were harmless. ‘Please, Azriel... I swear I—’

‘Were you forcefully compelled to work with Hybern?’

‘No, but—’

His firm voice interrupted you before you could try to justify yourself. ‘Did you not spy on us... On me and shared that information with Hybern?’

‘Azriel, please—’

‘Were you not condemning us to a certain death by sharing that information?’

A sob escaped your lips and you couldn't hold his gaze anymore, looking down at the ground before yelping when his scarred hands roughly held your chin and forced you to look at him. His fingers squeezing your cheeks.

‘Were you not condemning me to death?’ Azriel asked again.

‘I didn't know what else to do.’ You mumbled and then the cold steel of Truth Teller pressed against your trembling throat. Holding back the need to sob, your gaze locked with his.

‘And betraying your family and your mate was the best option?’

‘The bond hadn't snapped when I...’ Azriel pressed the blade closer to your throat but despite his threat, you noticed he was being gentle... The blade was raised upwards to prevent it from slicing your throat and even if he was gripping it tightly, the pressure against your neck was minimal.

You looked behind him and noticed how his own shadows were trying to move him away from you. The dark tendrils were trying to protect you.

‘Look. At. Me.’ He spoke coldly, fingers squeezing your cheeks again. ‘You still betrayed your sisters... And then betrayed me when you kept going.’

‘What did you expect me to do? To suddenly cut connections with Hybern? Yeah, that probably wouldn't raise suspicions, Azriel.’ You managed to mumble, a small frown of frustration over your features as you looked at him through the blur of your tear-filled eyes.

He held his breath as he analyzed you, his eyes scanning the tears that stained your cheeks and how your brows furrowed together. ‘You could have told me.’

‘And then what? The same damn situation we're dealing with now.’ His fingers around your chin squeezed tightly pulling you forward to him. His nose brushed against yours as breaths mingled together. Gods, his turmoil was so tangible that you could smell the inner fight he was struggling with.

He breathed in your scent. ‘I would have helped you... I would have understood you.’

‘Are you understanding me? Are you helping me?’

Azriel called your name in frustration before he roughly shoved your head back. Desperately needing to create some distance between you, he held your chin so that you couldn't lean in closer. ‘Don't say that as if that's not the only thing I long for. Help you, protect you, shield you.’

Hearing the desperation in his voice had you holding your breath. The guilt invades your lungs in a choking sensation instead of the so-desired oxygen. But that's what you deserved, after everything.

‘I...’ Your strained voice broke the silence as you finally looked into his eyes. ‘I just wanted my mortality back, Azriel...’ He sighed shakily before his hand holding Truth Teller moved down. ‘Everything's been so...’ Your voice broke and his other hand moved up to cup your cheek.

‘I know, I know...’ He mumbled and his eyes met you, the same warmth in which he usually held your gaze.

‘I didn't know what else to do... I was so furious with Feyre and I—... I just thought about bringing our mortality back.’ You admitted referring to your sisters before Azriel shushed you, the hand holding Truth Tuller moving down to cut the ropes that held your shoulders to the pole so that at least you could rest your weight against him. However, he kept the ropes around your wrists and legs.

When your head gently hit his shoulder resting against him, his hand moved up to cup the back of your head. Whispering sweet words to reassure you as he held you in his arms, trying to silence your tears as he brushed his lips along your temple.

‘If I could go back, I swear I'll do it... I—’ You trailed off when he began massaging your scalp bringing a sense of calm to your trembling body. ‘Ever since the bond snapped, I've been giving him confusing information. Half-lies... Or entirely nothing. I swear...’

‘I know, baby, I know.’

His words made you nuzzle your nose more against his shoulder. ‘Please, you have to believe me... Please.’

His hand over your cheek pulled you back so you could look into his hazel eyes. Gods, those irises... You could sink into them and get lost in that pool of golden brown. And you would do it willingly. They were your anchor. He was your anchor. Your strength and your liability, both at the same time.

‘I believe you.’ Azriel assured you. Then, the strength of your bond hit you so hard that it caught your breath away. The golden thread looked tangible as it swirled as a bridge between your souls and there you could feel his honesty and concern.

‘I don't know what to do.’ You confessed in a shaky whisper and he rested his forehead against yours. ‘Gods, please hate me. It's way easier than this... Hate me, Az...’ You begged him.

Azriel shook his head before his lips pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead. Rejoicing the feeling, a soft sigh escaped your lips. ‘I don't hate you. I could never hate you.’

‘You should.’

‘I don't want to,’ Azriel repeated before he gently called your name. The word rolled off his tongue with a soothing tone to it. ‘I don't hate you, baby... And neither does Feyre, nor either of the others.’

When a small sob escaped your lips, his dagger swiftly cut the rope that held your arms and wrists and you were able to wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace.

Finally.

Your torso was pressed against his, the soft flesh in your body caressing the hardness of the centuries-trained muscles over his chest and abdomen. Azriel immediately encircled your waist. He needed this. To feel you closer. To know you weren't a threat.

‘No one hates you.’ He assured you gently ‘Elain... She saw your intentions through one of her... Visions,’ Azriel's face contorted into discomfort at the thought of your younger sister having such a powerful ability that she didn't know how to control ‘She defended you and I... I wanted to see it for myself, see that you... That you at least had some regret.’

He loathed the thought of what he had planned to do before entering that room.

‘I wanted to torture you until you would give me something... Anything.’ Azriel admitted and you felt his pain and self-hatred through the bond. ‘But I... Seeing you like this, I can't— I don't...’ His grip on you tightened.

‘Azriel...’ You mumbled but he interrupted you.

‘I know you regret it.’ The Shadowsinger mumbled and his dark tendrils roamed down to free you from the rope around your legs. The minute you were free you wrapped one leg around him bringing the male closer to you. ‘Now I see it.’

You two fell into a comfortable silence. He brought you comfort and so did you to him. It was as simple as that.

‘If I hadn't felt any regret...’ You began gently only stopping for a second when the male growled. His chest vibrated roughly, so you placed one hand over the hard tattooed flesh. ‘Would you have done it? Torture me?’

The Ilyrian male froze under the weight of your question. Was that what you believed of him? Did you think he would do you any harm? The mere idea made Azriel want to go through every single torture himself.

‘No.’ He spoke firmly and his eyes met yours again when he pulled away. ‘No. Never...’ Azriel shook his head and then it seemed as if something broke inside him. ‘Never... never...’

He repeated over and over again as he slowly closed the distance between your lips. Lazily, his lips crashed against yours tasting the saltiness of your lips. ‘Never...’ He repeated over your lips. ‘Don't ever suggest it again.’ Azriel mumbled with pain.

His hand moved up to tangle around your hair as he kissed you again, this time it was messier... The male was shaking as he captured your lips with his and he gently pulled away when you choked one of your sobs against his mouth, more tears silently falling and making the kiss even messier if it was possible. A small frown adorned his face as he pulled you closer by the waist after backing away.

‘What can I do?’ You asked, voice strained and tears falling down your cheek until they would wet the dark fabric of his shirt. ‘Please, Azriel, what can I do to amend it?’

His sigh was warm against the skin of your neck and his lips pressed a gentle kiss against the sensitive skin provoking a shiver that ran down your spine. ‘Nothing. You don't need to do anything...’

‘I do.’ You insisted and he shook his head, burying his nose even more into the crook of your neck.

‘You don't.’

‘Azriel...’

‘I... Cassian may have said something earlier that could not be a terrible idea.’ Azriel mumbled against your skin before he moved backward to look into your eyes and seeing your raised brow he sighed. ‘But I don't want you to get in danger just to...’

‘Just to make it up for you? Enough reason.’ You whispered, chin tilted backward to brush your lips against his. ‘I am capable of making my own decisions, Azriel.’

His small grin widened as he answered, ‘I know that,’ when your lips pressed against his in small, gentle pecks. Yet, he couldn't help but keep talking. ‘This shouldn't be allowed… You're compelling me with your kisses.’

‘Am I now? What a shame... Poor Spymaster can't handle some kisses?’

The moment he confessed, ‘Not when they're yours,’ you couldn't help but stifle a giggle. You paused your kisses and instead nestled your nose against his, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

‘Please, Azriel... Just tell me what I can do.’

He groaned under his breath when your presence clouded his thoughts. ‘Cassian mentioned that you could gather information for us… Misinform Hybern and extract intel from him.’

Your brow raised with interest.

‘Perhaps I could teach you the art of espionage, my mate... Be one of my spies… What do you think?’ Azriel mused, his gaze penetrating as he locked his gaze with yours.

Oh, how the tables had turned on Hybern.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #requests open #azriel acotar #acotar x you #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fic #acotar fic #cassian #batboys #rhysand #feyre #archeron sisters

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munsons-hellfire · 8 months

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Happiness in the Heart | Eris Vanserra

SUMMARY: You were in love with Azriel for as long as you could remember. But things changed when Elain joined your family, everything changed. Then you met your mate and suddenly you found everything you ever wanted. But you couldn't have had it had it not been for Azriel.

PAIRINGS: Eris Vanserra x Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: No smut, Eris is nothing but sweet in this, angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of blood, nothing to graphic, mentions of heartbreak.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had plans to make this a lot more sadder than what is actually written. But I like the way it turned out for the most part. I wanted to write a good sweet side to Eris and this was it. I enjoyed writing this very much and I hope you enjoy it as well.

WORD COUNT: 5.1K

You’d been a part of the inner circle since you could remember. For a long time you truly felt like one of them but everything seemed to change when the Archeron sisters became a part of the inner circle. Suddenly everyone whom you’d assumed was your friend had disappeared. Azriel was your best friend and the two of you were inseparable and then Elain came into the picture and just like that you lost him.

You didn’t blame Elain, you understood. You knew that maybe you were better off alone. Your thoughts got the better of you telling you that maybe things would be better if you disappeared. Especially when Azriel started spending more time with Elain. You loved him, but had always been too afraid to say something. Though now it seemed like you no longer had a chance.

You were drifting from the inner circle, becoming less and less. Though you would still go out on missions, but for the most part you’d ask Rhys to send you out by yourself. As you started to lock yourself inside your room and away from the people you cared about they didn’t seem to notice. That hurt the most, that you had just disappeared from their lives.

Currently you were in the autumn court, Eris had become the new heir of the Court after his father’s untimely demise. Your friends were around but you paid no mind to them, you had drink after drink until you were drunk enough to hopefully not remember anything the following morning. You looked around the court, Azriel was in the center smiling and dancing with Elain.

Right then and there your heart had officially been torn to pieces. And to make the blow worse you believed that everything that had happened between you and Azriel had been your fault. You had waited too long and now you’d never get a chance to tell him how you felt. Taking a long exhale you grabbed another glass of wine and exited out of the room heading outdoors.

You tumbled down the steps slightly eventually sitting down on one of them, then you dropped your body the rest of the way and stared up at the stars with nothing but a blank gaze as tears cascaded down your face and into your hair. You had tried so hard not to cry but seeing Azriel happy with someone who wasn’t you made it that much worse. A figure stood in front of you glancing down at you.

“I would’ve thought that everyone from the Night Court liked to party.” Eris Vanserra’s voice ran through your ears. The newly appointed High Lord was staring down at you.

“I guess I’m not in the mood for a party.” You mumbled, staring past him.

“Pity.” He paused, wanting nothing more than to stop the tears falling from your face. Eris had known since the High Lord meeting to fight against Hybern that you were his mate. When you had walked into the room and looked at him he had felt the golden thread of the bond tie his soul to yours. But it seemed nothing had snapped for you. It had been 5 years since then, 5 years too long in his eyes. “You look rather divine if I say so myself.”

“You’re compliments won’t do anything to cheer me up.”

Eris moved down the steps, then he held his hand out to you. “Walk with me, my darling fox.”

You grabbed his hand but held a glare on your face. “I’m not your darling fox, don’t call me that.”

The male only smiled as the moonlight highlighted his features. “You say that now, sweetheart.”

You released a groan walking past the High Lord. No matter what you heard about Eris, you couldn’t seem to hate him and you didn’t understand why. When the two of you were far enough from the party Eris shrugged off his cold exterior.

“Why don’t you come stay in my court for a while.” Eris said, showing his compassionate side to you. Shock seemed to wash over your face as you stared at him.

“What? Why?” You rushed out.

“Do those you consider friends really care about you?” He asked a serious look in his amber eyes. “Do they know that you're struggling, that you feel so alone, that the male that you love is not interested in you?” The way he had mentioned Azriel was off putting to you. Like he was upset that you were in love with another male that wasn’t him. But why, is what you wanted to know.

“My burdens are not theirs to bear, they are not yours to bear. We barely know each other.”

“I don’t need to know you to feel your pain, little fox.” Eris lifted a hand and moved a strand of your hair behind your pointed ear. The touch was enough to cause your heart to stutter in your chest,

“How can you feel my pain?”

He sighed, looking away. “You’re my mate, Y/N.” The words were soft and so low you almost didn’t hear him speak it.

“What?” He could hear the confusion in your voice as you stared at him.

Eris didn’t want to repeat himself because he needed to get it off his chest, he needed you to know even if you hadn’t felt the bond, even if there might be a chance that you’d reject it. He couldn’t wake up everyday anymore and feel your pain. He wanted to help, he wanted to be there for you to show you that you're not alone no matter what you think.

“You. Are. My. Mate.” He had paused in between the words and had also stepped closer to you. Your breath hitched in your throat when he grasped your fingers and held them between his. And as if he had spoken it into existence you felt the gold thread tie you to Eris. When he gave a tug on the bond a choked sob left your mouth.

You surprised yourself when you wrapped your hands around the male’s waist and pulled him into a hug. More tears had started to roll down your face as he hugged you back just as tightly. When you pulled back slightly to look up at him he lifted his hand to wipe away the tears.

“What does this mean?” You asked.

“You can stay in the Night Court if that’s what you wish, I won’t force this on you. But I’d like a chance for you to get to know me better. To know the real me and not the cold distant male you’ve met a handful of times.”

“Okay.” You paused, staring into his beautiful eyes. “And when I’m ready to accept the bond?”

“When you’re one day ready to accept it we can hold whatever ceremony you’d like. But I’d only request that you come stay with me here in the Autumn Court. Only after will you be my High Lady. You’ll rule with me by my side, I will not force you to bear my heir, all of that will be your decision. All of this will be yours to choose.”

You nodded your head. “I might need a few days to think about the offer.”

“Very well my little fox.” You rolled your eyes at the male.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

You had traveled back to the Night Court, after that night. Upon returning you felt a little less alone. You thought that the idea of Eris being your mate would scare you, but in truth it excited you. Looking at the supposed friendships, you started to think that maybe it was time to leave. You wanted to know Eris more and eventually accept the bond. You just needed time to adjust to the idea of leaving.

In the weeks that you’d returned home no one had made an effort to see where you’d gone that night. Not even Azriel. Suddenly you no longer felt sad about him not loving you. But it still hurt. The way they had all treated you had hurt. Currently you were on a mission by yourself, Rhys had sent you to a village to see if any danger lie there.

In hindsight you should’ve brought someone with you. But that mistake cost you everything. You’d swore to yourself to keep the village safe from whatever danger loomed over it. But when the fairies appeared and took you out, they had killed every villager. Silence surrounded you, you had blacked out and managed to winnow back home.

Eris could feel your panic, sorrow, fear, and sadness down the bond. You landed in the center of your room, blood covered the entirety of your body and you don’t remember what had happened. All you knew is that whoever had killed the villagers were dead. Screams of pain left your mouth, but to you they were muffled. This mission has truly broken you. The door to your bedroom opened, there stood Azriel.

Rhys and Feyre right behind him. While they were trying to get you to calm down and stop the screams that fell off your lips. All the while you started to call for your mate.

“Eris please.” You had whispered in your mind.

“I’m on my way little fox.” He whispered back.

When Azriel got close enough that he could touch you, you flinched, backing away from him. “Don’t touch me.” You had angrily whispered. You could see the hurt on his face but you didn’t have the mental capacity to focus on that, your mind was still on all the children who had died on your hands, all the parents that had been slaughtered, all the elders that were killed. They were all on your hands.

“Y/N, tell me what happened.” Azriel said, hoping he could get something before Rhys or Feyre entered your mind.

“Now you care.” Those were the only words that came from your mouth before Rhys entered your mind. Your shields were down and he had been able to discover everything. You tried to push the High Lord out of your mind but it had been too much. So much so that when he left your mind you collapsed to the ground. You feel asleep the nightmares of what you witnessed following you.

Rhys had shown both Feyre and Azriel what had happened on the mission. He however refused to show Azriel that Eris had been your mate. He would respect your privacy on that. As for everything else, he should’ve seen the signs that you were pulling away, and after this mission he knew you’d leave and never return. They had all pushed you and now they had lost you.

Cassian appeared, Eris standing with him, a scared look on his face as he looked down at you unconscious. Azriel clenched his jaw, staring at the male.

“What’s he doing here?” Azriel went on to ask.

“I’m here to take my mate home.” Eris answered as he walked towards your body that was still covered in blood.

“You’re her mate?” The words left Azriel’s mouth before he could stop them.

Eris only ignored him, he picked your body up and held you in his arms. Then he turned back to Rhys, a glare on his face. The stone cold looked never leaving even as Rhys spoke to him.

“You can do the one thing that we all failed at. You can take care of Y/N and be there. Just promise that she comes to visit.” Rhys said, his voice broken as he said it.

“I will try my best. But you all betrayed her. You know she shouldn’t have gone on a mission in this state and yet you sent her anyway, now look where it’s gotten her.” Eris turned to look at Azriel. “And you, I didn’t want to tell her that I was her mate because I thought she deserved better than me. I thought maybe Y/N would be good with you, she loved you. But you broke her heart and now you’ve lost her for good. I will make this very clear shadowsinger. You are only allowed in my Court if your High Lord or High Lady is present, if not you are banned from entering the Autumn court even if you try to talk to Y/N. If you step foot on my court without either Rhys or Feyre present you will be killed.”

Eris looked at Rhys and Feyre who gave him a nod of understanding. Before Azriel could argue Eris winnowed out heading back to the Autumn Court to clean you up. Azriel looked at his High Lord and Lady.

“You’re going to honor what that male said?” Azriel asked, staring at the two.

“It’s not like we have a choice in the matter. I told you that she loved you, we all did and you ignored her when she was hurting. We all did, and none of us will ever be able to make up for that. But you should’ve told her that you didn’t like her that way. Instead you dragged her on like she was a lost puppy.” Rhys paused, taking control of the power inside himself. “I sensed that Eris was her mate and that’s why she came to the coronation for Eris. I shouldn’t have sent her on that mission but she needed to be with Eris and this was the only way, the only way for her to be truly happy. Because if she had done something I would’ve never forgiven myself and Eris would’ve never forgiven us. We would lose an ally for any future war. So yes, Feyre and I will be honoring what he has asked. You will not step foot on Autumn land unless one or both of us is with you. If you go against our orders your fate will be left in Eris’ hands.”

“Fine.” Azriel stormed out leaving to figure out what had just happened.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

You woke up a few days later. When you came to you looked around the room until your eyes fell on your mate. He was sitting in a chair, asleep. You groaned slightly as you lifted yourself up from the bed. Eris opened his eyes and found you staring at him.

“Hello, little fox.” He whispered, a smirk gracing his lips.

“How long have I been out?” You asked quickly, smiling internally at the nickname. You still weren’t ready to accept it but it was starting to win you over, especially after he had rescued you.

“A week. I had a healer take a look at the injuries you got on that mission. They were healed.” He answered. You eyed him as he stood from the chair and walked over to the bed, he sat down on the edge and reached for one of your hands.

“I’m sorry.” You looked away from him as the words left your lips.

“No. What happened is not your fault. Don’t apologize, I will always come to rescue you no matter what.” For the first time in 5 years you finally understood what it was like to have someone in your corner.

“What, um, what happened after I passed out?”

“Rhysand wants you to still visit. I told him I’d try my best but I know right now that’s not the best for you. I banned Azriel from my court, our court when you’re ready to run it by my side. He’s only allowed to step foot in this land if Rhysand or Feyre is with him. I will not let him hurt you again, ever.”

Your lips trembled, how could someone you’ve barely known done so much for you. Eris had done just that, had done enough to make sure you're safe and secure in your new home. You wished he’d show this side more to the other high lords, either way you were so lucky to call him your mate. Even if you hadn’t accepted it yet.

“Thank you.” Eris nodded his head, eventually he rested his forehead against yours and the two of you closed your eyes and enjoyed each other’s company.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

It had been a year since you’d left the Night Court and joined the Autumn Court. You became a part of the Autumn Court a month after your arrival, it had been tough to get used to but you eventually found peace. You had picked up a part time job as a librarian to keep you busy when Eris was away for his High Lord responsibilities.

After some time you and Eris had alone time. You had cooked a meal for him and that had been your way of accepting the mating bond. Two weeks later you had a mating ceremony for the Court. You married Eris and became High Lady of the Autumn Court. Word had been spread to the other courts, and you had received plenty of congratulations.

Even ones from those you used to consider friends. For the entire year you had managed to heal yourself with the help of your mate, your husband. And you were ready to forgive all of them including Azriel. Especially now that you would be a mother. Currently you sat in the bathing waters with a hand on your bump, you were 8 months along.

You couldn’t be more excited to get closer to the due date, to be able to welcome your child into the world. Eris was afraid when you had first told him. He was afraid he’d be like his father and torment the babe rather than love it. But you had constantly reminded him that this child would come into the world loved by two parents. You had made it clear to Eris that he was nothing like his father and he had shown that by changing his persona and being there throughout the pregnancy so far.

“How are my girls?” Eris questioned from the bathroom door. You pulled your attention from your bump and looked at the male you were happy to call your husband and mate.

“We’re fine. Very happy.” You paused, sending him a smile and a large amount of happiness down the bond, he of course smiled at you. Then he walked towards you holding his hand to you. You took it and he helped you from the tub. “Must I remind you that we are going to have a son.” Your smile only brightened. You were certain you’d have a son first, where Eris was certain you’d have a daughter first.

“We shall know when our child comes into this world.”

“And it’ll be the happiest day to be able to hold him or her in our arms.” Eris rested his head on yours. The two of you take in each other's emotions. Finally you parted and helped you get changed into a dress that had been altered to fit your growing bump. You two stood in front of the mirror, Eris had his hands resting on your stomach, yours were on top of his.

“Are you ready for tonight?” He asked, concerning washing from his lips.

“I am. This is a great way to announce the pregnancy of our first heir. And it’ll be good for me to forgive them. It’s the last step in my recovery and I need to do this.” You explained to him.

“Okay. If at any point you get overwhelmed-”

“I know, tell you and we can leave.” You said cutting him off.

“Exactly.” He watched as you turned around in his arms and stared up at him.

“Azriel is no longer banned from our Court.” Your words caught him off guard but he knew to expect them.

“Are you positive?”

“Yes, if he wishes to visit without Feyre and Rhys then he should be able to. I don’t love him anymore and I’m no longer bothered by the way he treated me and the fact that he didn’t love me. Without him I wouldn’t have found you, I wouldn’t be growing our child. I wouldn’t have the family I was always supposed to have. It’s because of him that I get to love you and will continue to love until the Mother decides it’s my time to leave. Azriel is the reason behind all of this and it’s not fair to keep him from our Court.”

Eris smiled at your words. “Very well. My High Lady has a say in his punishment and if that’s what you are okay with then I will stand by your side as you tell them.” You gave a small shake of your head. “Now we have guests waiting for us, I don’t think we should keep them waiting.”

“No we shouldn’t.”

You interlaced your fingers with your husband’s and the two of you walked out of your chambers heading to the throne room where the other High Lords and High Ladies waited. You’d even known Tamlin would be there. He was still making amends for what he did in the past but a few months ago you’d learned that the Spring Lord had discovered his mate.

She had been helping Tamlin with his recovery and helping him to be a better male. Lucien had been able to build his friendship with the male again, and you were there to help. You were also there when Lucien found out that Helion was his father. Everyone was healing and you couldn’t be more proud of the things all of you had accomplished since Eris had taken over as the High Lord in Autumn.

With you by his side things were moving in the direction they needed. The doors opened for the two of you, instantly eyes fell onto you and Eris. Your grip on your mate's hand got tighter as the two of you walked past your guest heading towards your throne. He squeezed back, assuring you that everything was okay.

Keeping your head held high, you had a hand resting on your bump protectively as the other High Lords and Ladies and the guest they might’ve brought with them stared at your bump. After making it to the steps you and Eris turned looking at everyone.

“My wife and I wanted to thank you all for being here. Please enjoy the food, drinks, and have fun dancing.” Eris said, a smile on his face. Everyone was still getting used to this new side of Eris but they trusted you, and because they trusted you they could trust him.

Eris helped you sit down on the throne, then he took a seat on the armrest next to you. Rhysand and Feyre walked up with Azriel behind them but at a distance.

“Y/N. It’s so good to see you again.” Feyre stated with a smile on her lips. You smiled back.

“You’re glowing.” Rhysand added.

“Thank you. Eris and I are so excited to meet our little bundle in the coming weeks.” You said, briefly glancing at Azriel. He was staring at you.

“How have you been?” Feyre proceeded to ask.

“I’m doing better.” You looked to Eris, he gave you a nod and squeezed your shoulder softly. You reached for his hand and held it in your hands. Azriel took note of the wedding bands that were on your left hand. He noticed Eris had one too. “I actually wanted to discuss the banning of your Shadowsinger from our court.”

“We apologize if this has caused any discomfort for you.” Rhysand said, his violet eyes switching between you and Eris.

“No it hasn’t. Firstly I’m sorry that it’s taking me so long to speak with all of you. I was in pain and was trying to heal. Eris, he’s helped a lot in my healing journey. And so has our child. I’d like to have family dinners with you again, as long as Eris is welcome.”

Feyre and Rhysand glanced at each other, you know they were having a silent conversation with each other. Finally they looked back at you and Eris.

“We’d like that very much.” Feyre said with a soft smile on her face. You released a breath, Eris sent a wave of love down the bond. You knew he was proud of you and it was showing.

“Secondly, Azriel, could you please step forward so that I may speak with you.”

He gave a nod and moved in between Feyre and Rhysand until he was in front of them. His shadows were moving around his body, he seemed happier as you looked at him. Maybe some kind of change had come his way after you’d left. You knew he wasn’t with Elain because she was with Lucien right now.

A few months ago she had accepted the bond between them after she herself had found what made her happy. She learned to accept the bond and with it Lucien. You’d hoped that maybe Azriel had found his mate too.

“I know that you were never in love with me the way I was. I only wished you’d told me how you felt. That being said, thank you.”

“Thank you?” Azriel asked, hazel eyes narrowing in you as confusion filled his normally emotionless face. Feyre and Rhysand also stared at you with confused looks.

“If you had told me that you loved me I would’ve never found my mate. I wouldn’t be married to Eris, I wouldn’t be High Lady of Autumn, it’s still a shock even now. And I wouldn’t be carrying our child right now. Because of you I found everything I needed. I found my home, my purpose. I learned to heal myself even after everything I’ve gone through. I hope that you find a mate one day.”

Azriel took a moment to process your words. “I have, she’s wonderful.” He said. He turned slightly looking at Rhys. Then he looked back at you and Eris. “She’s here, would you like to meet her?”

You nodded enthusiastically, years ago you would’ve been sad and jealous that he hadn’t noticed you but now it was different. Now you were happy and you could see that he had to.

“Will you help me up, dear?” You asked, looking at Eris. He smiled at you.

“Of course, little fox.” You smiled at the nickname as he helped you from the seat.

The two of you walked down the steps. When you were close enough you pulled Feyre into a hug. She hugged you back tightly. Then you moved over to Rhysand and hugged him tightly. Seconds later Azriel came back with a female by his side. Cassian, Nesta, Amren and Mor were also with him.

“They wanted to see you too.” Azriel mentioned. Hugs went around quickly, then your eyes landed on the female Azriel had brought over. You took a closer look at her and noticed the bright blue eyes. “This is Gwyneth, my mate.” The smile that broached his face made you happy. Lucien and Elain joined at some point, he sent a nod towards you and Eris.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from everyone.” She said, holding her hand out towards you.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” You told her your name as you shook her hand. “Eris is my mate, and this is our little bean.” You said holding onto your bump. Eris was behind you with a smile on his face.

“A happy reunion. Does this mean you’ll come visit now?” Mor asked eyes on you.

“Yes it does. And you are more than welcome to visit here as much as you like.” You paused looking at Azriel as sadness seemed to cross his face for a brief moment. “None of that.” You said.

“What?” Azriel asked you.

“Azriel, Shadowsinger, you are hereby welcomed back to the Autumn court whenever you please. You’re no longer banned from our home.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Azriel asked, looking at the High Lord.

“My High Lady’s word is power and if she grants it then we are to follow it.” Eris answered.

“Very well.”

Relief washed over you when Azriel accepted your request. “Let’s enjoy this party, shall we?” You said pulling your husband towards the dance floor. The others followed behind you. As you danced with your family you looked up at Eris.

“Are you happy?” He asked spinning you around and pulling you back to his chest.

“So happy.” You answered, resting your head on his chest.

“Good. You deserve it.”

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

A few weeks later you and Eris welcomed your son into the world. Currently you held onto the sleeping babe as your friends started to arrive at your home to meet the newborn. You looked down at your son, truly content with the life you had right now. You could hear the laughter in your home and it had been so long since you felt a part of it.

Azriel made his way up to you first, Eris allowing you time to talk to him. You looked at the Shadowsinger when he came to a stop next to you. A smile graced your lips when he looked down at your son.

“Would you like to hold him, Az?” You asked, using a nickname you hadn’t used in a long time.

“I’d be honored, Y/N.” He smiled brightly. You leaned forward shifting the babe into Azriel’s arms. His scarred hands tightened, as he held onto the babe. His shadows moved towards the babe, almost as if they were protecting your son.

“I think you’d make a fine Uncle.” You said, lifting your gaze to Azriel. He was staring at you with shock in his hazel eyes. “I don’t want what happened in the past to define our future. Nova, he deserves to have a happy family. And I want you to be a part of that just as much as everyone else that’s here.”

“As long as I can teach him how to fight.” Azriel said excitedly.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, but Nova has a few years before he’s ready for that.”

“Very well.” As the night moved on and everyone met Nova you realized that it had been so long since you felt this content, this happy. You had your new family and your old family.

“You deserve to be happy, don’t forget that my love.” Eris said in your mind as a wave of love flew down the bond.

“How can I forget when you're constantly reminding me?” You remarked with a smile.

“And I’ll continue to remind you until the Mother decides to take me away from you. But I promise that I’ll find you in every lifetime.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #reader insert #x reader #eris vanserra x reader #azriel #rhysand #elain archeron #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #cassian #morrigan #amren #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel #lucien vanserra

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marvelsmylife · 7 months

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Sisters Know Best

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron! reader

Plot: as the youngest Archeron your sister were very protective over you. What happens when you are taken into hybern and forced to be turned into a fae? What if when you come out your mate is standing there; injured but desperately wants to go towards you and reassure you that you are ok.

A/n this is the longest pic I’ve ever written! Brace yourselves for some ANGST. You guys are probably going to hate Feyre in this (along with Elain and Nesta)

ACOTAR Masterlist

Everything had gone to shit. In an attempt to get the cauldron from their enemy, Rhysand and the inner circle were captured, with Cassian and Azriel being severely injured. They watched in horror as you, with Nesta and Elain, were brought out by Hybern soldiers and were being taken to the cauldron. The king of Hybern wanted to show the mortal queens that it would be safe for them to become immortal and high fae using the cauldron.

“Feyre, please help me,” you sobbed to your sister; a piece of Feyre died in that instant as she watched you being forced into the cauldron.

Feyre, Nesta, and Elain let out an agonizing cry as they watched your head being shoved under the water.

You were under for a few minutes when you were finally pulled out and thrown onto the floor in front of everyone. The king of Hybern grabbed you by your hair and showed the mortal queens you were not only ok but you’ve also been turned into a high fae. Feyre tried to get to you when the king of Hybern threw you back on the floor; “This is all your fault,” Nesta shouted towards Feyre.

While everyone watched Nesta tear into Feyre and Elain became the next person to be thrown into the cauldron, Azriel couldn’t help but stare at you as you sobbed on the floor. You looked so broken, and even though he was injured, Azriel felt the mating bond. He tried to walk towards you. Rhysand held Azriel back and whispered: “Azriel, don’t.”

“Mate,” Azriel murmured: “She’s my mate.”

Rhysand had a panicked look because of the stories Feyre had told him about how protective she, Nesta, and Elain were towards you. “Are you positive,” Rhysand whispered.

“I had a hunch ever since I met her for the first time; ” Azriel started to recall the day he first met you in the mortal lands a few months ago.

The room was tense when they first entered the Archeron's estate. Nesta was arguing with them, not pleased to see them, while Elain tried to defuse the situation. Azriel was sure a fight would break out when they heard someone playing the piano in another room. It sounded lovely, and Azriel felt compelled to see who was behind such a beautiful song.

Nesta noticed Azriel’s reaction to you playing and stopped him before he even had a chance to make a move. “Do not even think about it. I’m keeping y/n away from your kind,” Nesta warned.

Right at that moment, you stepped into the room, and Azriel swore he had fallen in love at that moment. Feyre noticed Azriel’s attraction towards you and immediately got in front of him. “Please don’t,” she warned: “For your safety, I’m going to need you to stay away from her.”

Azriel was confused by Feyre’s request until he realized that Nesta and Elain were standing in front of you, blocking you from him and his brothers. “Don’t worry, he’ll stay away,” Rhysand spoke for his brother.

Since that day, he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. He often wished that he could see you once more. He wondered if you had a trail of men knocking on your door and asking your father for your hand in marriage.

Now that you’re here and turned into a high fae, he realized the reason he was drawn to you was because you were his mate.

Azriel was going to try and help you up when Nesta stormed over to you and helped you up. “I thought I told you to stay away from y/n,” Nesta growled at Azriel before taking you and Elain away from him.

Rhysand prohibited Azriel from contacting you while you stayed at the house of wind. He wanted to respect Feyre’s wishes to keep his brothers, especially Azriel away from you, and fortunately for him, he didn’t have to try hard to keep you two apart.

Like Elain, you also shut everyone out, often spending your days in your room or at the library with Nesta. You also refused to eat with everyone, so Nesta and Elain opted to eat dinner with you in your room. You knew it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism, but you couldn’t bring yourself to interact with anyone but your sisters.

Azriel in the meantime, was not taking your mental state well, seeing as he could feel your sadness through the bond. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you, reassure you that everything was alright. Every time he actually tried to visit you, Rhysand or Nesta would turn him away.

So he waited. He waited three excruciatingly long months before you popped out of your room while everyone was gathered for dinner. His eyes were on you as you quietly walked over to them and softly asked: “Is there room for one more? Maybe three if Nesta and Elain join as well?”

Azriel immediately got up and offered you his seat. Rhysand sent Azriel a warning look before you sent Azriel a wary smile and thanked him for the seat. Azriel swore he felt happiness through the bond.

He was about to sit next to you when Nesta quickly took that spot, and Elain took the spot across from you. Feyre sent Azriel a sympathetic smile when she noticed the frustrated expression on the spymaster's face.

Azriel finally opted to sit next to Elain, but he had his eyes glued on you as you took small bites of your food. He felt himself swooning when you looked over at him or when your face lit up at a memory Feyre shared when you were younger.

Feyre took notice and pulled Azriel aside when you disappeared into your room for the night. She was going on about how it wouldn’t be the wisest decision for him to pursue anything with you: “She just got turned; let her discover herself for a while, and we’ll revisit you potentially being around her.”

“I’m her mate,” Azriel confessed and caused the high lady to rub her temples: “Listen, I know I’m not good enough for her, but she’s my mate, and I’ll do anything I have to protect her.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re not good enough for her,” Feyre replied: “It’s just-it’s just that she’s my younger sister, and I feel the need to protect her from everything and everyone. Just give us time ok? I promise you’ll be able to talk to her but not right now”. Azriel reluctantly agreed before disappearing into his room.

Azriel didn’t blame Feyre, Elain, and Nesta for being protective over you, but at the same time, his body craved to be near you. He needed you by his side at all times, and that couldn’t happen if you were constantly surrounded by your sisters.

As much as he didn’t want to, Azriel waited. It took everything in him not to physically follow you around like a lost puppy. Since he needed to know you were safe, he had one of his shadows trail after you.

It worked for a few weeks, until one night, his shadow decided to curl up against your calf when you were playing the piano Rhysand had gifted for your birthday. “Oh, hello there,” you spoke to the shadow that wrapped itself around your leg: “Aren’t you supposed to be with Azriel?”

Azriel couldn’t help but smile when he heard you say his name. Deciding to ignore Rhysand’s and Feyre’s orders, Azriel entered the room, and the other shadows that came with him have now made their way towards you. “I’m sorry about them,” Azriel apologized and got your attention.

“It’s ok,” you grinned at the shadowsinger,“ I think they’re cute.”

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you when it dawned on you that you’ve never properly introduced yourself to Azriel. “Oh my goodness, where are my manners,” you shook your head before you held out your hand: “Hi, I’m y/n. I know we met briefly back in the human lands, but it’s very nice to formally meet you.”

It took Azriel a few seconds to realize you held out your hand for him before he reached out and took it: “It’s really nice to meet you too.”

Azriel wanted to ask you a thousand questions about you, but the sound of the front door opening, followed by the sound of your sisters and Rhysand arguing about something. “I should get going,” Azriel said to you and left the room in a hurry.

After that day, you found yourself seeking out Azriel at any time of the day. You thought he was fascinating and wanted to get to know him better.

Of course, your sisters voiced their disapproval, but for once, you didn’t back down to them. “Unfortunately for you, I get to choose who I want to spend my time with, and I’ve decided to spend my time with Azriel. He just- he gets me.”

Azriel was proud of you for speaking up for yourself and not allowing your sisters to dictate your life. At the same time, Nesta and Elain grew resentful of Azriel and blamed him as the reason you were talking back to them.

Feyre, for the most part, has accepted that you enjoyed spending time with Azriel, but she would drop by to see if her sister needed anything.

Little did Azriel know you started developing feelings towards him since the day you formally met. You didn’t know why, but you felt at peace whenever you were with him, and you have sworn he felt the same way.

Still, he has yet to express his feelings towards you, so you bit the bullet, and you decided to ask the question that’s been haunting your mind for the past few months: “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” You asked on a sunny autumn day and caused Azriel to look over at you in shock: “I mean, I know I’m not the most attractive out of my sister, but I feel like we have a connection and-”

“Don’t you ever say that about yourself,” Azriel cut you off: “You are the most beautiful female I’ve ever met.”

You bit your lip when you felt Azriel’s hands cupping your face: “Then prove it. Kiss me.” You dared Azriel: “I want this. I want you”.

Azriel ran his thumb against your lower lip before leaning in and kissing you. You felt yourself smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. “I love you,” Azriel proclaimed once he pulled away from your lips and rested his forehead against yours: “I love you, y/n.”

You were about to confess your feelings when Nesta showed up and pulled you away from Azriel: “What do you think you are doing shadowsinger. Y/n, are you ok? Did he pressure you into kissing him? Come with me”.

You looked at Azriel heartbroken while your sister took you inside to scold Rhysand for his brother’s actions. Azriel stormed inside and was ready to fight for his mate when you shouted: “Stop treating me like a child. All my life, you three have been coddling me to the point where I can’t do anything for myself. Azriel has been the only one who treats me like an adult”.

Feyre, Nesta, and Elain stared in disbelief at your words. “It’s about time you put them in their place,” Amren commented, earning a disapproving look from Rhysand: “What? It’s true. They act like y/n is a child when she’s nineteen years old. She should have the right to decide what she wants for herself.”

“That’s not all,” you announced: “I am in love with Azriel. I have for a while now, and you don’t have to like it, but you must respect that he is the one I choose to love.”

Nesta wanted to protest, but Elain stopped her by speaking out: “We respect your decision, y/n, and we’re so happy you are in love, right Nesta.”

Elain and Feyre sent Nesta a threatening look before Nesta finally replied: “Yes, so happy”. Nesta got up and walked up to Azriel before poking his chest: “If you hurt her, I will hunt you down and kill you. Slowly and painfully.”

“I would never hurt my mate,” Azriel barked back at Nesta and moved so he was blocking you: “She is my one and only priority.”

“Mate?” you whispered to yourself: “When did you find out we were mates?”

Azriel turned around and placed his hands around your waist: “Officially? The day you were turned into one of us,” Azriel: “But I had a hunch from the first time we met.”

“That was over a year ago,” you grew angry at the revelation: “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The room grew tense as you waited for Azriel to respond: “I wanted to tell you right away, I really did, but you had just turned, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you more than you already were. I tried telling you the months following your transformation, but Feyre and Rhysand prohibited me from revealing it. Then there was Nesta and Elain, who wouldn’t even let me near you for months”.

Your sisters shot a glare at Azriel for throwing them under the bus. “It was torture for me not to be near you for that long. It damn near killed me feeling your depression and self-hatred through the bond. That’s why when you started interacting with everyone else, I saw it as an opportunity to get close to you”. Azriel found himself dropping to his knees as he took your hands and continued: “I will forever cherish the time we spent together: with you playing your piano, myself reading a few feet away from you. Please forgive me, my love, for not telling you sooner”.

You couldn’t help but nod as you leaned in and kissed him. You could faintly hear Mor gush about the scene that unfolded before them. “Please don’t keep any more secrets from me,” you asked Azriel as you helped him up.

“I promise, my love,” Azriel replied, lifting you off your feet.

Nesta and Elain were ready to tell off Azriel for his action when you looked over and said: “My mate,” you couldn’t help but look up and smile at Azriel when you said the word mate: “And I are going to be in my room if you guys need anything” Azriel took that as his opportunity to whisk you away from the room. Just as you reached your bedroom door, you shouted: “Don’t need anything,” before disappearing into your room.

@purple-writer8 @saltedcoffeescotch @queenyasm @mischiefmanagers @acotarfics-mharmie009 @minaethrym @tayswhp @blackgirlmagicforever @sirenpearldust @olive-main @going-through-shit @littlelunatica @atrxidxs @mochisabs @zara-aliza08 @tanyaherondale @merla123 @lili-flower03 @brandinicole911 @sweetcaitlin @breemitch15 @sstrohma @meritxellao @mockingjaytributes @meshellexplosionmurder @mybestfriendmademe @xealia @impossibelle @lisanna2000 @aisrhiri @namelesssaviour @stained-glass-eyes0708 @fxckmiup

#azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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misspookiehere · 4 months

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HE TAXED HIS PEOPLE TO DEATH? His provided lots of flexibility in his tax system.

When Lucien was explaining Feyre he said if they don't pay in 3 days Tamlin is expected to hunt them down.

But during tithe Tamlin said they have 3 days or the offer double next tithe. He don't want to hunt them down.

Plus they can literally give anything. Money is not necessary.

Girly thinks Rhysand have a tree that grows money or maybe they got occasional money rain in Velaris. Huh? How do you think he is running his court.

THE WEIRD ORGY FESTIVAL?

Lo jiii now their fae tradition that they've been doing for thousands of years is now suddenly Tamlin's fault.

SOMEONE HAS TO GIVE THEMSELVES TO HIM?

Girly make it seem like he is dragging women to sleep with him. All the women participating in Calanmai is there on their own.

LOCKED HER IN

Yes he locked her in, biggest mistake but did he controlled what she eats?,did he forced her to do physical training?,did he forced her to work with no salary? Did his people in the mansion was verbally lashing on her? When she locked Nesta in the name of therapy they forced her to do all of these things.

Pls don't start saying that in Nesta's case all these things helped her. Bcoz in Feyre's case staying in the mansion will make sure she is still breathing. Do I need to remind you that Attor & Hybern were still lurking in the SC borders ready to snatch her any moment they got. Yes in SC borders bcoz at this point everybody knows she is in SC they don't exactly have to find her. They are more closer to her than she thinks.

GAVE HER SISTERS TO HER ENEMY?

I thought this one is clear. Looks like I still need to talk about this. Tamlin & Lucien didn't know about Ianthe's plan. How did Ianthe know about her sisters? Almighty Feyre herself told her in details.

And also didn't they visited her sisters when Rhysand was fully aware that Attor was tracking them. And then they invited those Queens who betrayed them later in the same house.

And don't even think about saying If Tamlin hadn't made that deal none of these would have happened bcoz he made the deal after Ianthe was already in the SC. That woman has her own agenda so it doesn't matter if he made the deal or not she still would have carried out her plan.

And also Tamlin's deal was not only to bring Feyre back. 1st of all the deal allowed him to spy on them and 2nd the other part of the deal was that he'll allowed them to cross the wall if they don't attack anyone in SC. Let's just say What if he hasn't made the deal then the war will still happen, they'll still cross the wall, the first court they'll attack will be his but without the deal they'll kill each & every person in SC. I would say it was a thoughtful idea but unfortunately not everything thing was fulfilled.

(putting this here bcoz I commented it somewhere & atleast 10 people said they don't remember & even more people said that this never happened & that I'm a crazy girl making fake scenes in my head)

NEVER TREATED HER LIKE AN EQUAL?

okay fine he didn't give her HL title (the title that didn't even existed) but he was marrying her in front of his people that means he is basically introducing her as the lady of SC ( if not HL) to his whole court . That still gave her lot of power plus respect.

What exactly Rhys did? Married her privately with only one witness ( I'm guessing) that is the priestess. And then he introduced her as a whore in his court.

THE WHOLE COURT NEEDED TO BE RECONSTRUCTED BY A COMPETENT LEADER?

What kind of leader? Like Rhysand? Haah Funny coz that dude can't even rule the other half of his court properly.

#anti acotar #anti inner circle #anti feysand #anti rhysand #anti feyre #anti sjm #pro tamlin

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 5 months

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Datura Pt 11

Summary: Returning to the Mountain brings up a lot of feelings and Reader tries and fails to keep them all bottled up.

Content Warnings: SMUT (I told you it would come eventually ;) ), a lot of dirty talk, suggestiveness, a little light bondage if you squint, as well as alcohol consumption and drug use.

Author's Note: I apparently have a lot of feelings about sitting in Rhys's lap, 'cause I wrote this Vamp!Rhys fic and this in the same week. I was gonna end it on an angsty note, but the miscommunication trope makes me want to rip my hair out, so I made it fluffy instead (they're adults they can TALK TO EACH OTHER like adults). Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy! As always, let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List, and thank you to everyone who likes, comments and reblogs, ya'll make me want to keep writing <3

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The music is a heavy pulse in your skull, drowning out all thought as the lights flash and flare overhead like dozens of fireworks in time to the beat. Your hips sway, flimsy excuse of a dress clinging to your thighs as you twirl and spin in time to the beat. Dozens of hands pass you a long, keep you spinning and spinning until the lights glitter like stars overhead. You throw your head back and laugh at the way they glitter and stretch along your quickly blurring vision.

Someone passes you another cup and you tip the contents back in one gulp, savoring the burn, relishing in the way it fills your empty stomach. You’ve lost count of how many glasses you’ve had, lost count of where the empty ones go as you move along with the crowd, let the press of bodies move you like an ebbing tide.

A cigarette gets passed your way, the violet smoke filtering in hazy rings around people’s heads like halos. Do you smoke? You can’t remember. Can’t think about why you should care at all as you bring it to your lips and inhale deeply, letting the mirthroot take hold.

This is the most fun you’ve had in weeks, it’s the first time you allow yourself complete unbridled freedom. There is nothing to worry about here but following the music and the flow of drink as the mirthroot makes your body loose and limber.

Strong hands settle on your hips as you take another drag, eyes closed, savoring the burn. You sway your hips under the grip, pushing your body back into the firm planes of the male behind you. You don’t have the presence of mind to be mortified, to think about the way you’re grinding on a stranger in the middle of this crowd of people.

Warm breath frames your neck, skittering over the golden collar still encircling your throat. “I think you’ve had enough, Darling.”

Mate. Mate. Mate. The words dance around the bargain mark on your ribs, heat flaring in your chest that has nothing to do with the fae wine or the mirthroot and everything to do with the fact that when you’d been dragged back into your cell, it had been empty. Empty and had smelled like her. And you’d thrown yourself against the battered door, claws slashing across the worn iron until they shattered from your fingertips, until you splattered blood across the unyielding iron, dark mist filling the cell until it nearly sucked the air from the room. You don’t know how or why the door held, why your nails couldn’t cut through the strange marks etched into the door; the only thing that was clear is that in retaliation for leaving, your fault or not, she’d taken Rhys and had left you alone in the dark. Days passed without word, without food, until the guards had come and thrown you into a room with the order to bathe and change and be ready in an hour and you complied only with the intent to go right into the Throne Room to rip her throat out with your teeth. But Rhys hadn’t been at her side when you arrived either, hadn’t been a face in the crowd as Amarantha declared to the court that you had slain the twins sent from Hybern for attacking their Queen. The crowd that days ago had been laughing at your plight as you’d been made to kneel on the floor like an animal was now cheering you on like a hero. Fickle and spineless; Amarantha said jump and they asked how high without question or reason. She’d left you to their whims after that and the wine had started flowing and you’d needed to calm the panic and rage swelling like a storm beneath your skin and had reached for one. One had somehow turned into two and then three and you’d lost count after that, lost yourself in the blissful emptiness and tried to forget how powerless you really were in all of this.

You turn in his arms and though he remains standing where he is, there’s suddenly six of him spinning in dizzying circles and you have to grip onto his shoulders to keep yourself on your feet.

“Easy,” he says, his grip on your hips firm.

You’ve forgotten just how big he is compared to you, how much of you he can fit in his hands. You're too far gone to stop yourself from wondering how those hands would feel beneath your dress, on your thighs, spreading you open…

“Easy,” he says again, nostrils flaring like he scents the effect he has on you like this.

Your hands feel like they're drifting through soup as you reach out to brush your hand through his hair. He’s clean too, skin healed, the clothes new and finely pressed. There is no lingering scent of incense, though you’re pretty sure the mirthroot you smell is on your skin and not his, he remains wholly jasmine and citrus. Nothing of her on him.

“You’re ok?” The words slur out of you, sound muffled and distant even as they come out your mouth. You need him to tell you he’s ok, that she didn’t hurt him, that he got called away for something, anything. He does other things for her, he brought in Tamlin all those weeks ago, he has other roles, but you don’t know how to make the words come out against the fog that rolls through your head. “You’re ok?”

“I’m ok,” he says with a nod. “Let’s get you some water.”

You shake your head. Water is somewhere near the tables and lounge chairs in the corner, somewhere she might be lurking, waiting for you to slip up, waiting for her chance to steal him again and you can’t have that. “Want to dance.” Want to dance and drink and forget; want to smoke and move and let the music erase everything that is happening around you so that the only thing that matters is the two of you. It’s an added bonus that if he dances with you then that means he keeps his hands on you, has an excuse to keep touching you. Gods you want more of that!

“Water first,” he says, giving you a little nudge backwards.

The move makes the world spin again and you giggle as you let yourself fall into it.

“Wow, you’re really drunk,” he says as he hauls you against his chest and half carries half drags you through the crowd.

“You’re strong,” you giggle. You can feel the muscles in his arms and chest tighten as he moves you around, his fingertips digging deliciously in your hips.

It’s by sheer force of Rhys’s will that you end up in a chair with a glass of water, that you take a single sip of and make a face. “Gross. Want more wine.”

A servant automatically appears with a glass beside you, but before you can grab it, or spill it given the way your limbs flop around, he snatches it off the tray. “Water first.”

You stick out your lower lip. “Why are you being so mean to me?”

He takes a drink out of the cup and suddenly the most exciting thing in the world is watching how his throat works when he swallows and the way the wine stains his lips. “‘Cause it’s fun,” he retorts.

You manage to get another sip of water down before you accidentally catch the glass on the edge of the table and spill it everywhere. “Fuck me,” you say dejectedly. In your state your first thought is to use your skirts to try and dry up the mess, but there’s not enough of them, the sheer fabric barely covering the tops of your thighs.

“You have impeccable manners,” he says as he reaches for your hands to stop you from flashing the whole room as you try and wiggle the dress up enough to use it as a napkin. With a snap of his fingers the mess cleans itself.

“Ooooohhh neat,” you run a finger over the dry table. “Can you teach me to do that?”

You’re too drunk to notice your mistake, but he says, “If you had any powers left, sure,” a little louder than necessary to cover you.

“Right,” you slur as you try to stand on shaky legs. “Well water was good, we dance now.”

He remains a firm wall between you and the dance floor. “Unless you can absorb water through your skin, you didn’t actually drink anything.”

“Had a sip.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Meanie,” you hiss.

“You’re very cute when you’re drunk,” he teases and the grin he gives you makes you want to stretch up on your toes and kiss him right there.

“You’re very kissable when you smile,” you return.

Rhys huffs a laugh and you think you might do just about anything to get him to laugh again.

“I’m always very kissable,” he retorts. “It’s part of my charm.”

“So make part of your charm dancing with me,” you press.

He grabs your hand like he might do just that, but instead, spins around you to claim an empty couch and pulls you down to sit in his lap so fast the world flips and twirls in a blur of pulsing colors that makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The wine rises up in your throat, threatening to come back out in a rush and you curl into his chest trying to find a way to make it stop.

“I think this is better.”

You squeeze your temples with your palms. “Make my brain stop spinning,” you whine. Maybe he’s right, maybe dancing is a bad idea.

Besides, he’s still touching you like this. More than touching actually. You’re situated in his lap, knees bracketing his hips, chest to chest, no collar around his throat to stop you if you wanted to put your lips to his neck. There’s not even a scar or bruise to indicate that it had been there, nothing but smooth, bronze skin and the teasing peak of his tattoos beneath his collar.

You brace yourself against his shoulders as the world stops spinning, suddenly very aware of how high your skirt is riding up and how strong the muscles in his thighs are between your legs.

He brings his hands to hold your hips again and you thank the Mother that you’re not so drunk that you’ve lost your inhibitions completely because the only thought in your head right now is how it would feel to grind yourself down on him.

“You’re very drunk,” he says lowly, his own gaze locked on the space between your bodies like he’s drinking in the way your thighs look around him.

“So?”

“So it would be wrong,” he retorts.

“What?” You move your hands to the back of the couch behind him, chest brushing his. There’s barely any straps to your top, the neckline a deep v that leaves your cleavage on display and you don’t miss the way his gaze tracks it as you lean in. “What would be wrong?”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip, staring and something stirs deep inside you. Claim. Claim. Claim. He is your mate and you want him to touch you, kiss you, claim you.

It’s the thought that makes you pause for a brief moment. Does he know your mates? Does he feel this growing need? This incessant longing beating from your rib cage that needs to be touched and held and claimed so deeply you forget what it felt like to be anything else? Is that the bond? Or the wine?

“Doing all the things I’ve been thinking about since the moment I had my lips on yours,” he says, voice barely a whisper, gaze still transfixed on your body.

You preen under the heat in his gaze, press your chest a little more firmly into his so that you can be nose to nose with him. The wine has certainly made you more brazen. “What kinds of things, Rhys?”

The hands holding your hips tighten, fingertips kneading the soft flesh hard enough to bruise and yet your whole body turns molten at that touch. It’s the delicious line between pain and pleasure, and after days and days of cold emptiness, the heat it sparks through your body is more addictive than any wine or drug you can consume here.

“Want this dress off you for starters,” he murmurs, full lips drifting down to dust over the straps clinging to your shoulders.

His words conjure an image in your mind of him leaning forward, pulling the straps down with his teeth, baring the full expanse of your body to him. You shiver under the mental image, hips rocking down against him.

“Want to mark every bit of you I can reach, so that no one dares touch you,” he continues, teeth scraping over your shoulder. “So that everyone knows your mine.”

His. The possession in his tone really does you in, heat building in your lower belly as you grind yourself down against the growing bulge in his pants. The scrape against your core makes your mouth drop open, groan falling from your parted lips. It would be so easy to come undone from this alone.

“Only mine,” he emphasizes, sucking a mark where your neck meets your shoulder, visible beneath that damned collar you can’t take off.

“Rhys,” you whimper, releasing your grip on the back of the couch to drag your hands through his dark hair. “Please.”

His lips move along your throat, teeth scraping your skin before sucking another mark into your sensitive flesh. He’s taking his time, just as he promised all those weeks ago on Calanmai. “Want to know what little noises you’d make for me, how you’d fall apart in my hands…”

You drag your hand from his hair, reaching for the straps of your dress to pull them down for him, hoping to spur him further into action, but he finally releases his grip on your hips to stop you.

“None of that, Darling,” he tuts. “It comes off when I say it does.”

To that point, when you try to rock your hips against him again, it's his glittering, obsidian power that pins you in place, a slither of darkness twining around your hips to hold you there, utterly at his mercy.

He chuckles when you whimper and pout, lower lip sticking out, tears welling up in your eyes, because it’s not fair that he’s this close, that he’s just a hair breadth away from where you need him most and he knows it. He can smell it on you, see it on every line in your face, and yet he won’t move to help you.

“Please, Rhys, please,” you beg. The need for him is unbearable, your whole body burning like it’s on fire, the only relief is the contact with his body. Your mate so close to where you need him most.

“Hogging the woman of the hour, are we?”

You hadn’t heard any approaching footsteps over the pounding of the base against the rock, the sudden appearance making you flinch as Rhys throws a warning snarl over your shoulder. It only makes the red headed male approaching chuckle as he comes to stand directly behind you. The cedar and cinnamon smell of him reminds you of curling up under a warm wool blanket next to a fireplace with your favorite book about vampires, something you like to do in nice Autumn weather.

Slender fingers drag up your spine, and in your delirious state, it makes you arch your back as you shiver under it.

“Eris,” Rhys purrs, but there’s an edge in his tone as he watches you move under another male’s ministrations. The sliver of his power around your waist tightens, the shadows slipping under your skirts to writhe against your flushed skin. He allows you to jerk forward, hips rocking right into the obvious sign of his own arousal, and your eyes roll back into your head at the contact.

“I can name a dozen males who would kill for a chance to be where you are right now, Rhysand,” Eris returns.

“I don’t share,” Rhys says and cauldron that’s all it takes for you to place your lips against his throat. He hums his approval as you scrape your teeth against his skin, hands threading into your hair as you nip and bite and use your tongue to cool any pain you cause him.

Eris plops himself down in the seat next to Rhys, long arms thrown over the back of the couch as he makes himself comfortable.

You can’t bring yourself to care about the audience as you nip at the underside of his jaw. He tilts his head back for you so you can reach more of him unhindered and you sink a little lower down on his lap chasing any friction you can find before the shadows tighten and still your movements again.

“Bastard,” you growl into his throat, but he merely turns his attention to the male next to him.

“You didn’t respond to my message,” Eris hisses. A glass of wine appears in his hand and he takes a slow drink. To any onlookers he’s merely enjoying the party with the High Lord and his nightly entertainment.

“What message?”

“Shit.” This conversation is becoming sobering, despite your best efforts to tune out the other male and focus solely on the pleasure just out of reach. All night long you’d been able to forget.

Eris gives you a sidelong glance that might have made you squirm under the intensity if Rhys hadn’t shifted beneath you to get a better look at the other male, hips brushing up against your center in a move that is definitely intentional.

“The one I gave her,” Eris snarls.

“This is the first I’ve seen her in days,” Rhys retorts, a hand stroking through your hair. “You know how to get in contact with me.”

Eris glances around at the dancers that move past for refreshments as he takes another drink. Only when they’re gone does he say, “So you didn’t tell her to kill the twins?”

You stop moving; stop thinking about Rhys’s body as the image of Dagdan and Brannagh’s mangled bodies flash across your mind. You’re suddenly a lot more sober than you had been moment ago.

Rhys brushes a mental hand against your mind and you flinch, head still tender from the beating it had taken trying to keep your cousins out. “Darling?”

The concern in his tone makes shame burn its way through your lungs. At the littlest thing he’s dropping everything to make sure you’re ok, and yet here you are, with no idea where he’s been or what he’s been through and you’re grinding in his lap like a horny teenager. What kind of mate are you?

“No I didn’t,” Rhys says to Eris, even as he makes another tender stroke against your mind, asking to be let in. “But I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Do you think we can use it to our advantage?” Eris asks.

You don’t deserve how gentle he is with you, but you can’t stop yourself from lowering your shields just enough to let him in. He should know just how much of a monster you’re capable of being before he gets too close.

“Will you show me?” He asks and you open the doorway into the memory, keeping the conversation you’d had with Tamlin about him, the realization of what he is to you, out of reach. He deserves better than that.

Rhys strokes his hands in your hair as he watches the memory unfold, your body shaking in his grip as all that blood and gore comes into view. When it’s over, he closes the door in your mind and clicks the lock into place for you. “It’s over. You’re safe. You did what you had to do to survive, there is no shame in that.”

You press your face into his shoulder to hide the tears brimming in your eyes. You’re an ugly crier when you’re tipsy and you know if you start, you won’t stop.

“I think it’ll bring Hybern here quicker,” Rhys says to Eris, as he drags the fingers in your hair down to trace your spine. To an onlooker, he’s still playing with you, only the two of you know how often he’s traced these shapes into your skin when you wake up screaming in the dungeons. “Which can be played to our advantage if we’re careful.”

Eris takes another sip of wine, mulling it over.

“If Hybern can be convinced that our queen is acting out of her own agenda instead of his, he may just do our work for us.”

“A dangerous game,” Eris frowns.

“It always is,” Rhys returns.

It’s astounding how calm and level headed he can remain, always centered, even while everyone else rages and panics around him. How are you supposed to be his equal? To his calm there is only your spinning thoughts and unchecked temper. Everything makes you want to claw and rage and smash things; aren’t mates supposed to balance each other out? What do you bring him other than another mess to sort through?

“Well if you’re not going to share her, I’ll leave you to it,” Eris says as he downs his cup and stands, making a show of stretching, tight shirt rising up to expose the toned line of his abs to a passing cluster of male and female dancers.

Rhys chuckles at that, sliding a little lower into the couch, as he says, “She’s all mine.”

Is this all the conversation they can have? A few passing whispers? A few half-veiled hopes at a plan? Fifty years of juggling court masks and gathering allies and pushing pieces into place in the shadows while everyone else parties around them? It’s such a contrast to the world you’re used to that you can’t help but feel small inside it.

It’s only when he’s gone that Rhys asks, “Are you ok?”

“I thought being drunk was supposed to make me feel less depressed,” you grumble into his shirt because he’s pleasantly warm and you can’t bring your body to move from where you’re pressed into his chest.

“I think you passed over the threshold for that a couple drinks ago,” he replies.

“Take me back to the blissful void,” you whine.

“Well enough people have seen you here with me, I think we can slip away and get you into bed without causing a scene now.”

He’d pulled you over here on purpose, removing the shield of the crowd so people would see you with him, see you cutting loose, and when you disappeared they’d think he’d taken you to bed and not wonder if there was anything more to it, because his reputation was enough. That mask was so encompassing it could shield you too.

Rhys winnows you away and you can’t tell what end is up anymore, not until he sets you square in the center of a bed with black silk sheets. His room, as dust covered and bare as it had been the last time.

You groan as you fall back into the pillows, all the wine threatening to come up again as you try to keep yourself upright. This position allows you to feel just how wet you are between your legs, making you stop squeezing your eyes shut to look at the damp spot you’d left on Rhys’s pants. Not that he seems to notice as he peels off his jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt, getting comfortable for the night, even as shame makes your cheeks turn bright red. What is wrong with you?

“You need a bucket over there?” He asks.

You need to drink until you can forget what you’ve been doing all night. How are you supposed to look at him now?

You hear the clink of his belt coming off before he climbs into the bed next to you and you force yourself not to open your eyes and look at what he’s wearing to bed, because you’ve made a fool of yourself enough for one night.

“That last drink was a mistake,” you lie, because what else are you supposed to say?

His body is warm as he lays down beside you. “You played your part well,” Rhys encourages. “No one will think twice about where you’ve gone.”

You’re an idiot, but you’re not quite sober enough to think better of it as you ask, “Is that all this is? A game?”

Rhys uses a bit of his power to snuff the candles out, bathing the room in utter darkness. “It’s necessary-”

You roll onto your side, finally daring to look at him, as best you can in the dark anyway. “But is that all you want it to be?” You press.

He’d been laying with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, but at your words he rolls over too, so you’re once again nose to nose, practically sharing a breath.

“Wanting anything is dangerous, Y/N.”

“So all that you said earlier, about wanting me, that was just for show? This is just a mask?”

“It keeps you safe,” he says so low it's almost a growl.

“But it’s not what you want?”

“I can’t…” he shakes his head. “I can’t. The things I love have a tendency to be taken from me, I cannot want anything other than to get out of here.”

Your eyes sting and you’re glad for the dark, glad that it hides the tears welling up in your eyes. “I can play this part, if that’s what we need to fulfill this bargain,” it’s a concentrated effort to keep your voice steady, but you mean it. If this is all it will be, then you will have to find a way to live with it, because at least your mate will be alive. And maybe, if Amarantha sees anything like what you two had been doing tonight, then maybe she’d direct that anger at you instead of him. You could find a way to use it to protect him, the same way he’d used it for you.

He’s your mate, whatever you have to do to make sure he survives, you’ll do it. Even if it tears you apart inside.

“But please, just tell me that it’s not real, that you don’t really want me, so that I can prepare, so that I don’t overstep. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable.”

His pause feels like it spans an hour, the silence ticking away like a clock in the darkness. “I…”

You stamp down the hope flaring in your chest, it’ll be easier to deal with if he is up front that he doesn’t see you as anything but a means to an end. “What do you want, Rhys?”

He growls, the sound skittering across your bones as he throws an arm around your waist and crashes his lips against yours. “You,” he says into your mind. “I want you in any way you’ll have me.”

The ink on your chest warms, feels strangely like it’s glowing beneath your skin as the solid weight of him settles on top of you, pushing you into the mattress. You're a tangle of limbs and teeth, as he kisses you like it might be his only chance to.

You drag your hands down the sharp contours of his spine, memorizing the feel of him beneath your fingertips as his tongue slides behind your teeth to taste you. This is far better than any drug, no amount of mirthroot could ever make you feel this high.

“You’re ok with this?” He pants into your lips, finally coming up for air.

“More than ok,” you confirm and that’s all it takes for him to start sliding the straps off your dress, pulling the tight fitting bodice slowly from your body. The chill in the air is only a momentary discomfort before his hands and lips chase it away as he follows the fabric down your body.

Thank the Mother for the privacy of the room, that you hadn’t managed to get your top off like you’d tried to do in the throne room, because the noise you let out when he gets his mouth around your nipple is embarrassingly loud, whole body flushed crimson. You clamp your hand over your mouth when he does the same move on your other breast, or at least you try to, that slithering ether of power snags your wrist and pins it above your head before you can cut off the noise.

“None of that,” he hums into your skin, teeth scraping your skin. “Want to hear you.”

Cauldron he’ll be the death of you!

It’s his power that whisks the glamor away from the bargain mark so he can run his lips over the ink, tracing the flower petals and vines. “We should make more bargains, you look so pretty with all this ink.”

You huff a laugh as you scrape your nails through his hair, making a mess of it. “What kinds of bargains?”

He kisses lower, pulling the dress down towards your hips, following it again. “That you’ll let me taste you like this once a day for the rest of eternity,” he suggests as he lifts your hips to get the dress lower.

“I’m not wasting a bargain on that,” you huff, though you’re embarrassed to admit the way the suggestion makes heat pool in your core.

“You’re right, twice a day is more practical,” he says as he slips both the dress and your underthings off in one fell swoop. Strong arms wrap around your hips as he settles himself between your legs and you barely have time to draw a shaky breath before he’s running his tongue up your center.

“I-” all thought and argument eddies from your mind as your body arches under his ministrations.

“More than that, perhaps?” He teases, adding a finger to the mix, even as his tongue swirls through your quickly budding arousal.

Your hand in his hair tightens, pulling his hair as you try and guide him deeper. “Rhys,” you whimper. He feels so good; so perfect. Nothing else would ever compare; he’s barely touched you and you’re fully ready to come apart already.

He adds a second finger, stretching you out as his tongue flicks over your clit, the combination making your head spin. You screw your eyes shut as your body tightens, muscles taut as a bow string as your pleasure builds too fast to prepare for. He might still be talking nonsense about bargains but you genuinely can’t hear a word he says against the white noise tearing through your head.

Mate. Mate. Mate. It’s right where the flower-what did he say it was called? Datura?-sits over your heart that you feel the bond between your souls, like a tether of glittering starlight. It’s been there, faint before, just enough of a tether to let you feel a bit of him at the other end, but now it thrums with his power, like it’s searching for your own. A call like the one he’d sent out on Calanmai, and you can’t tell if he’s testing to see if you know it’s there, or if it’s you pulling on it, begging to be closer to him as your high crashes over you.

Rhys kisses his way back up your body, lips damp with your arousal. “You know?”

The disbelief in his tone brings you back to reality. Your shields had been down and you’d just…

You push yourself up on your elbows. “You knew?” You counter.

He brushes his lips over the bargain mark again, distracting himself from looking into your eyes as he says, “I suspected, before Calanmai, but afterwards, when I saw you for real, not just as a dream, it clicked.”

“You’d been dreaming about me?”

Another kiss on your heated skin, body relaxing under his touch. “For decades,” he whispers. “And I told myself that it was enough, that I’d leave it there, where you were safe and far away from all of this, but then there were whispers in the court about at a weapon Hybern was looking for. The more she had me look into it, the more my dreams started making sense, the better I could see you.”

You brush your fingers through the hair falling over his eyes, prompting him to finally look at you. “When she narrowed down that you were in Spring, she started sending me out on Calanmia to look for you, thinking it might mask all her hunters with those coming to the party. It was my only chance to reach you and I had every intention to get you to leave Spring.”

He catches your hand and presses a kiss to your fingertips. “I never meant to let you see me, but you were so scared and she decided to come out herself for the first time in years and I panicked. I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if she got her hands on you first.”

Your eyes sting at the confession. Your selfless mate, who through all these years of trauma, had still been willing to let you go without ever getting to see you if it meant you didn’t end up here.

“I swore that I’d do everything in my power to get you out, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay away, no matter how much I tried to. You needed me and I… I need you.”

You’re not entirely sure how useful you’ve been to him in all of this, but you let him speak anyway.

“Not just this,” he says, gesturing to your bodies. “But for all of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t want you to think you’re stuck with me,” he says. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

You sit up as best you can around the weight of him over you so you can grip his face. “I’m not stuck with you. I’m choosing you. I want you, Rhys.”

The disbelief in his eyes makes your heart ache and you lean forward to gently kiss the tip of his nose. “Not just for this,” you repeat, gesturing to your bodies as he had done. “Though it is amazing.”

He grins at that.

“And not just this,” you drag his hand over the ink on your chest. “But for whatever is beyond this. When it’s all over, when we’ve won and we’ve got her stupid head on a pike, I want to explore whatever comes next with you.”

He kisses you then, eagerly, a little less frantic than before, but with no less desire, the taste of your arousal still faint on his swollen lips. You lean back into the mattress, pulling him down with you.

“I know this whole thing is twisted and terrifying, but I want to walk with you through it. Together.”

“Together,” he confirms as you wrap your legs around his waist.

A new bargain mark zaps across your skin, over your palm, where your hands are intertwined, a twin to the one on his own hand.

“I still think I made an excellent bargain offer,” he says as you tug at the waistband of his boxers.

“You’re insufferable, Rhysand,” you laugh.

“I think the word you’re thinking of is insatiable,” he counters as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“That too,” you reply as you arch your back, the tip of his cock gliding through your arousal. It’s a little more of stretch than you're used to, but the line between pain and pleasure blurs as he slowly rocks his hips into yours, taking his time to let you adjust. He really will ruin anyone else for you, not that you’ll ever want anything other than this from here on out.

“Darling,” he purrs, or tries to, the groan he lets out as he fully seats himself inside you makes shivers run up your spine. “You have no idea how insatiable I can be.”

You rock your hips, prompting him to move, to match your rhythm, to fill and take and claim you as your body has been begging him to all night long. “I think you should show me.”

The laugh he lets out sounds more like a growl as he picks up his pace, one hand braced against the headboard to give him more leverage as he slides nearly out of you and slams back in. You cling to his shoulders, nails gliding over his sweat-dampened skin for leverage, his name a whimper on your lips.

The bond between you glitters, swells with all the affection and desire he feels for you as he shoots in down to you. For all the pain and trouble it had caused, you think you still you might have come out earlier on Calanmai, just to feel this sooner.

You whimper his name again and again as your high once again draws closer, your body white hot.

“I’ve got you,” he says in your ear and judging by the frantic rutting of his hips you know he’ll be right there with you. Together in this, as you will be in the rest of it. You let yourself fall, unrestrained, as pleasure washes over you, your mate giving a shout as he follows close behind. The two of you topple into the sheets, clinging to each other as you catch your breath.

“You ok?” He asks as you cling tightly to him, even as your body relaxes.

You nuzzle your face into his chest. “I’m with my mate, how could I not be?” Whatever tomorrow holds, whatever dangers lie ahead, you can rest knowing that you’ll be together for it.

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Tag List: @mariahoedt, @lovelydove, @twsssmlmaa, @sleepylunarwolf, @judig92, @willowpains, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @annnaaaaaa88, @myheartfollower, @uniquecolorwizard, @eternallyelvish, @waytoomanyteenagefeels, @lovemesomevesey, @localfangirl09, @isa1b2h3, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @slytherintaco, @iluvewman-blog, @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife, @kitsunetori, @lilah-asteria, @dianxiaxie, @msoldier

#rhysand x reader #Rhys x reader #rhysand x reader smut #Rhys smut #acotar smut #acotar rhys #acotar fic #my writing #my fanfic #datura fic #acotar fluf #UTM!rhys #UTM!Rhys x reader #UTM!Rhys smut

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readychilledwine · 6 months

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Limbo

Summary - You would never be able to move on from your untimely death. Not while the two males you loved kept you trapped here.

Warnings - reader is unable to move on, angst, Rhysand's red flag moment from ACOFAS, Tamlin's depressed, lost mates

A/N - I was watching the Haunting of Hill House and fell in love with the concept and parallel created in the episode between two storms, and I decided to use that concept with this

Tamlin Masterlist

It really was not their fault.

How were the two males she loved the most supposed to know that spirits couldn't rest when anger involving them lingered this deeply? You sighed, watching Rhysand and Tamlin argue for what had to have been the 100th time since your death.

You held no ill-will towards Tamlin. Not now that you knew the truth. It had been a poorly planned attack from your father, hoping to remove the issue he believed Rhysand was meant to become to his place as High Lord.

Everything had been so meticulously planned by your father. Every detail had been set into perfect stone. Almost every detail, at least.

Your father had forgotten to account for you and your mother. The fool had believed the Spring Lord and his two oldest sons would find Rhysand long before they found you and Lady Night.

The rest went down in history.

Your mate was forced to watch you die, forced to carry your wings back to Spring, forced to watch his father splay them out over his desk.

You should have been allowed to rest when Tamlin burned them, mourning you with the loss of the last piece of you he had, but you couldn't.

You would never be at peace, watching them scream at each other, watching them fight, watching the love that used to burn so brightly between two friends dying out. “Enough,” your voice was a soft breeze in Rhysand's ear. “Rhys, enough.”

They didn't stop, though. They never did. Especially now that Feyre had been involved. It was another loss for Tamlin. Another goodbye. Another death. Another moment he felt the Mother had long turned her back on him.

“Ignore him,” your voice wasn't a whisper for Tamlin. It wasn't a soft breeze. It was there, in his heart, warming him. “Let him feel his rage. He has the ability to find the truth, My love.”

That phantom tug hit him, calming him as he sat broken, berated by Rhysand over a female he didn't truly want anymore.

All you could do was place your head near his, never able to fully touch him, never able to truly comfort him. “I am. I'm always here.” You just can't see me, you thought bitterly.

He tugged. He tugged knowing he would feel nothing on the other end. But the message hit you full force, I wish you were here.

It did not take long for Rhysand's anger to grow. Becoming louder and louder until it hit a boiling point. Lethal quiet came from him despite you knowing he wanted to scream, “You deserve everything that has befallen you. You deserve this pathetic, empty house, your ravaged lands. I don't care if you offered that kernel of life to save me, I don't care if you still love my mate. I don't care that you saved her from Hybern or a thousand enemies before that.”

“Enough, Rhysand!” The warning went unheard. As it always had. As it always would.

“I hope you live the rest of your miserable life alone here. It's a far more satisfying end than slaughtering you.”

“Please,” you begged. “Just, stop. Please stop.” Another phantom tug had Tamlin sighing before he shifted and walked away, leaving Rhysand there alone. “Rhys, please. I'm right here.”

“Enough!” Glass shattered on one of the windows, causing both males to jump. “That's enough!” Had they been paying attention to more than just their own anger, their own mourning, their own love clouded by hatred, they would have noticed the faint smell of lilac and starlight lingering in the air. But, as you had grown used to, neither noticed.

He winnowed away as you reached for him, ignoring the chill he felt as he did and leaving you alone again. You let out a laugh as the bond, so full of cruel life, tugged on your end again. I wish you were here, it repeated.

“I am,” you cried. “I'm right here.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys

#acotar #acotar x reader #tamlin x y/n #tamlin x reader #tamlin x you #tamlin x rhysandssister!reader

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yaralulu · 7 months

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Honestly, I’m impressed— and flattered you think I have that kind of sway with Tamlin.”

This line from the first ACOTAR book is so important to me because everybody seems to think lucien was just able to have his way with tamlin,convince him of anything—when lucien himself has said he does not have that kind of power.

Yes tamlin and lucien were friends,but above all tamlin was lucien’s highlord. There was always a certain power dynamic between them.Tamlins word was law and lucien was loyal to a fault because of his history with tamlin.

He is my High Lord. His word is law.

However,lucien did not mindlessly agree with tamlin on everything,he was not his “faithful dog”—he tried to reason with him,change his mind, stop him from making dumb decisions but tamlin never budged.lucien often had to resort to begging when trying to change tamlins mind and even then he was never listened to.Lucien ultimately had no say.

Lucien had gone on, his tone pleading,Tamlin. Tam. Just let her train, let her master this—if the other High Lords do come for her, let her stand a chance. —> Regarding feyres training,tamlin said no anyways.

I begged him for more time,but you’d already been gone for months. —> Regarding Allying with Hybern,tamlin allied with him anyways.

“I tried. I begged him for mercy.He didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen.” —> Regarding killing the sentries on guard,tamlin killed them anyways.

At the end of the day lucien was a refugee at the spring court and tamlin’s emissary.Their relationship is incredibly complicated but i think it goes without saying that lucien was doing the best he could considering the situation he was in all throughout acomaf-acowar and how difficult tamlin was to deal with 😓.

#this is not a tamlin a hate post!!!#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #pro lucien vanserra #acowar #acomaf #tamlin acotar #this is just me yapping tbh

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nickel156 · 3 months

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Someone please explain to me, how everyone blames Tamlin for the kidnapping of Nesta and Elain?

When Rice literally let the Attor live, who knew almost the exact coordinates of their Manor??

Because Tamlin did the one thing everyone praises Reece for?

He was willing to work with the evil King to get his love back? And in Acotar he was willing to risk the ENTIRETY OF PYRITHIAN to keep her safe.

But because he has his own trauma and made some poor choices, it's his own fault the Spring Court fell.

When Feyre was the puppeteer!

Feyre also tells Ianthe everything about her sisters.. Including their location. When this bitch knows not all Fae like humans.

"But Tamlin orchestrated it"

No honeybun, that was Ianthe and Hybern.

Tamlin was trying to get his love back, from the male who:

Threw a head with the NC insignia over his hedges.

Broke the minds of two dozen children.

Who drugged Feyre and made her dance for him utm.

Who killed Tamlins entire family.

Who appeared to willingly sleep with Amarantha.

Who he thought wrote a letter to him as Feyre telling him she was fine. When months ago she couldn't read 🥸

Who is told that he somehow gave Feyre wings and said she tells Lucien "When you spend so long trapped in darkness, Lucien, you find that the darkness begins to stare back"

BUT YEAH, TAMLIN IS TOTALLY UNREASONABLE!

#i'm not delusional. you're delusional #pro lucien vanserra #pro tamlin #anti rhysand #anti feysand

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bldhrry · 2 months

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The Brute and The Scholar

Chapter One | Everything Has Changed Cassian x Fem!Reader Next Chapter Series Masterlist | General Masterlist

word count: 5.8k

warnings: violence, blood, cursing

author's note: first chapter of my new series! i hope u guys like it. more chapters coming soon <3 lmk what you think!!

“Mom, stop. I can’t just ask the High Lady for a job. It doesn’t work like that!”

You had been pleading with your mother for the past five minutes to leave the topic be. You would find work some other way, but she was insistent that you speak with Feyre about a possible job with the Night Court as a diplomat.

“It does.”

“No it doesn’t,” you barked. Your mother gave you a look of reproach at your tone and you sighed. “I’m not going to embarrass myself just because I want a job.”

“Then I’ll talk to her.” Your mother was bold and fierce, a quality you had inherited despite your inept social skills. She turned on her heel and pushed through the crowd, heading straight for the High Lady.

“Mom! Oh my gods stop.” You hissed, grabbing her arm. “Don’t. I’ll do it.”

Your mother gave you a triumphant smile and you just grumbled a “be right back” and trudged toward Feyre.

She was peering inside a bakery shop with Nyx, her son, on her hip. She was pointing at the display while the child pointed too and babbled about whatever he was seeing.

You hadn’t even approached her and your cheeks were already hot with impending mortification. You could already see her pitiful smile as she gently turned you down saying that they were not looking for a political advisor.

You had graduated from the city's university months ago with the highest marks in your class, leading you to make a speech in front of the entire university about integrity and the sacrifices made to be on that stage in front of your peers. It was bullshit. You did what was expected of you and nothing more. You naturally excelled in academics and it wasn’t your fault you were better than everyone at grasping the lectured concepts and making strong, nearly foolproof, arguments in your papers. In fact, your thesis had been on the events leading up to the Second Hybern War dating the lead up to the outbreak all the way back to the First War; it was something that hadn’t been thought of or studied and you felt an immense pride of being exceptional in the way your mind worked.

You weren’t entirely humble and this was something you didn’t hide. You should’ve, but you couldn’t find yourself to diminish your intelligence and accomplishments. Why should you deny the obvious?

Nyx saw you first and screeched, waving his small hand at you. You gave him a forced smile that really felt and looked like a grimace.

Feyre turned towards you, looking at Nyx first and then at you, the brightest smile you had ever seen illuminating your face.

You nodded your head at her and took a deep breath, forcing a genuine smile. “Good afternoon High Lady. I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment.”

Feyre chuckled and extended her hand. “No need for the formalities. You can call me Feyre.”

You took her hand and shook it, nodding again. You turned your head and gave an apprehensive look to your mother who just smiled wide and gave you a thumbs up in encouragement.

“Your mother I assume?” Feyre laughed and waved at her.

“Yes,” you laughed, your cheeks growing even hotter. You swore the skin on them was going to melt. “I, uh,” you cleared your throat and bit the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry, this was my mother’s idea. She wants me to ask if you happen to have a place in your Court for an emissary or a courtier. I just graduated from Velaris University with a degree in Diplomacy and I’ve been looking for a job.” You were stammering now, tripping up over your words. You couldn’t look Feyre in the eye instead looking around her in embarrassment.

“Anyway, I know this is ridiculous because I know you probably have so many people working for you and it’s not a big deal if you don’t and-”

Before you could finish Feyre cut you off, placing a hand on your arm. “It is not a ridiculous request. Your mother was smart to have you ask directly; it shows initiative.” She gave you a wink and you relaxed…barely. “We are always looking to expand our Court and I think it would be great to have a new set of eyes. Why don’t you come for dinner tomorrow night and we can talk more.”

You gaped at her for a second in shock. Holy shit it actually worked.

“Oh, wow,” you breathed out a laugh. “That’s great. I can come by for sure. Would you like my resume? It’s not much, really, but I have it or I can bring my thesis if you’d like. It’s super long, but I think it really shows my knowledge on political stuff.” You mentally cursed yourself for using such juvenile words and for talking so much. You always over-explain yourself.

“Bring whatever. We’re not picky. I’m sure you’re just as smart as you seem.”

You beamed at the compliment. “Thank you, I appreciate that. I will see you tomorrow night.” Before you could leave you tilted your head at her. “Where exactly should I go? And what is the dress code?”

Feyre gave you a seemingly knowing smile and why she did, you weren’t sure. “You can come to the manor at six and wear whatever you feel comfortable in. It’s just dinner.”

You blushed. Yes, of course. You should’ve known better than to ask such silly questions.

“Okay.” You nodded, scanning the floor as your mind pieced together the potential outcomes of this interaction. “Thank you, Feyre. I really appreciate it.”

She gave you a smile and nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

She waved and so did Nyx as she turned the opposite direction from you. You did the same, making your way back to your mother who had an expectant look on her face.

“So?” She looped her arm with yours as you headed home.

“She invited me to dinner.” You gave her a sheepish smile. “She said you were right to have me ask.”

“I told you so.”

The next day came and you were standing in front of your wardrobe with your hands on your hips and your lips pursed. You wanted to look comfortable and relaxed but not too relaxed that it looked like you didn't care.

You settled for a thin long sleeve with a windbreaker and leggings with your everyday high tops with crew socks. Casual, a representation of your style and personality, but clean enough to show that you put thought into it. Perfect.

You worried constantly. From the minute you woke up to the minute you fell asleep you thought of your schedule and what you had to do and when you had to do it. It was exhausting, the life you lived, but it was nobody’s fault but your own. But, the fortunate thing about living in a constant state of panic was that it made you successful. You were prompt to your classes and meetings, paying extra attention to your assignments resulting in little to no mistakes and high marks.

Your parents didn't understand where this rigid mentality of yours stemmed from. While they were hard working, they were more “go with the flow” type people and tried endlessly to quell your obsessive behavior but to no avail.

It was harmful too. It sent you in waves of panic; panic so strong it darkened your vision and you’d fall to the floor gasping for breath, trying but failing to ground yourself in reality and remind you that you were safe.

“You look nice.” Your mother's voice rang from her position at the entry of your bedroom.

You looked up from where you were sitting, tying your shoe laces and gave her a smile. “Good. I don't want it to seem like I tried too hard.”

“But you did,” she gave you a sympathetic smile and tilted her head. She worried you about you; worried you wouldn't enjoy life; worried you would stop yourself from having adventures; worried you would send yourself to an early grave.

You chuckled and stood up. “It’s fine.”

Grabbing your binder you gave your mother a kiss on the cheek and bounded out the door.

The walk to the house was long, but you didn't mind. The evening was cool with a breeze making its way through your hair, ruffling your jacket. For a Thursday night there were few people on the street, many having already gone home or to restaurants for dinner.

You cut through Palace of Hoof and Leaf and across the bridge over the Sidra and to your right was the River House. It was grand in its size and decor, upholding the fact that the High Lord and Lady lived there. Despite the expensive look of the house, it looked cozy and lived in with soft lights illuminating behind windows and smoke billowing slowly out of the chimney.

You skipped up the steps and stopped at the door, giving it a three firm knocks. Stepping back one pace, you hugged the binder to your chest and waited.

You could hear muffled voices behind the door and through the panes of opaque glass you could see two shadowy figures making their way to the door. You tensed, anticipating the first interaction of the night.

“All I’m saying is that if my wingspan is 14 feet, measured, and larger than yours then yours cannot be 17 feet. It just doesn't make sense!” The door swung open, the male in front of you, not yet looking at you, yelled over his shoulder at somebody.

He looked at you and smiled and your eyes widened and your mouth parted slightly. It was the High Lord.

You had seen him from time to time but he was striking up close with violet eyes that seemed to dance with stars in them and short black hair. He was casual in a tight fitting long sleeve and slacks and funnily enough, house slippers.

He looked at you expectantly and you realized he was waiting for an introduction.

“I’m sorry,” you blushed and let out a nervous laugh. “I’m looking for Feyre; she invited me to dinner.”

Recognition flashed across his face and his smile grew. “Of course! She told me about you. Come in, we were just about to sit down.”

You nodded and followed him in as he strolled to what seemed to be the dining room. It was a long room with a table littered with various dishes and around it sat what you could only assume was the Inner Court.

“Guys, this is…” he stopped short and looked at Feyre and then at you. “I don't think we even know your name.”

Your face grew hot and you shifted your feet.

“Oh no, I never asked! I’m sorry.” Feyre exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

“It’s fine. We spoke briefly. I’m Y/N.” You gave the room a smile and a chorus of greetings hit you.

You recognized most of the faces. Feyre and Rhysand, of course, but Morrigan and Amren were there as well as Feyre’s sisters and Lucien.

Feyre waved you over and you made a beeline for her, finding comfort in the only person you knew even if it had only been during a two minute conversation.

“I’m glad you made it,” she said as you sat down beside her.

“Thank you for inviting me.” You handed her the binder you had been carrying in your arms. “This is my thesis but if it's too long I also brought a paper I did on the implications of a possible rule change in the Spring Court.”

Feyre made a face of amazement as she beheld the binder. But before she could say anything about it Lucien spoke from across the table.

“You think there should be a change in the High Lord of the Spring Court?”

The room hushed and all eyes turned to you and Lucien. His question wasn't one of malice but genuine curiosity.

You sat on your hands and weighed your options. You could be honest or you could be vague. You chose honesty.

“It’s been published in some journals that the current climate in the Spring Court is tense. Its resources were demolished by Hybern’s forces and the current High Lord essentially sold out his land and people for the sake of preserving a false sense of ownership over what he thought was his. There's no doubt he's not well liked amongst his subjects given the state of the economy and the ridiculous Tithe he does.”

Lucien leaned back in his seat, his eyes narrowing in on you and he gave you a grin. “So you think Tamlin should be removed as High Lord?”

You cocked your head and looked around the room. “I think it would be beneficial, yes. With no faith and trust in your ruler you are sure to descend into an inevitable revolt.” You paused and then continued. “You were his courtier and now emissary for here and there. Do you not think so?”

Lucien tapped his finger on the table, deep in thought. He hadn't really thought about it. Maybe because of his personal feelings and relationship with Tamlin, but he would never think of removing him from his birthright.

“No, I don't. He's made his amends.”

“Amends don't mean anything if your people are suffering.” Your words came out harsher than you intended and you shrank in your seat.

Lucien wasn't phased and instead laughed. “Touché.”

You signed, relieved you hadn't accidentally offended Lucien and his friend.

Heavy footsteps could be heard approaching the dining room and you leaned in your seat, trying to see who was coming in. But you didn't see bodies first. No, you saw wings.

Your entire body seized with panic as two very large Illyrians nearly ran in the room.

“I found it!” The larger one yelled, holding a bottle with brown liquid in it.

“Took you long enough,” Morrigan grumbled. “Give it here,” she waved to the male and he slid it across the table into her awaiting hand.

The wings were so large. The brown membrane-like skin let light pass through them, showing their muscles and veins and bones. The tips of the wings had curved talons.

You couldn't breathe. You gripped the arms of your chair and tried your best to not start shaking. These were Illyrians males; they were no threat to you. They were not that thing from all those years again. You were safe. But you couldn’t stop the way your vision was darkening, tunneling on the plate in front of you or the way your breathing was turning into pants.

This couldn't be happening. Not here, not now.

The larger male averted his gaze to you and gave you a grin. “You must be the girl Feyre told us about!” He made his way to you and you tried your best to maintain your composure but as he got closer your heart began to hammer in your chest and sweat coated your hands, making your grip loosen on the armrests.

He extended his hand and you flinched so hard the chair scooted back slightly. “I’m sorry. I don't do physical contact.” You were breathless and your eyes wide as you stared at him and then his wings and back at him.

Confusion flashed across his face and he gave you a frown but nodded. “Sorry. I’m Cassian.” He gave you a warm smile that brightened his hazel eyes and you forced your own smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Cassian. I’m Y/N.”

He grinned and took a seat two chairs away from you. His wing span was so long that the edge of it was mere centimeters from your shoulder and you cringed away.

The other male had regarded you with immense caution during the entire interaction. His face was blank but his eyes, also hazel, studied you. He glanced between you and Cassian and then you and Cassian’s wings and his mouth twitched and you couldn't figure out if he was going to give you a smile or a frown.

He was still staring at you as he sat across from you and you couldn't look away. His gaze was captivating but intimidating and you felt panic surge through your body again. He flared his nostrils, probably sensing your fear, and gave you a sly smirk and leaned back in his chair.

“I’m Azriel,” he finally spoke. His voice was deep with a tone that you couldn't quite place.

You nodded slowly and swallowed. “It is nice to meet you, Azriel.”

You were going to turn your attention back to Feyre when something caught your attention and you saw a tendril of black smoke, no a shadow, swirl around Azriel’s neck and his wrists. They moved slowly around his body and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched.

He was the Shadowsinger. But you hid your surprise and instead turned to Feyre like you had been trying to do.

She was already looking at you. Her brows were pulled together and her lips were pursed and your heart began its quick dance in your chest again.

The interaction with Cassian and Azriel had been tense and awkward and everyone had seen it despite acting like nothing had happened and continuing their conversations.

“Are you okay?” She finally asked, touching your arm.

“Yes.” You forced a smile and sighed. “I've never seen wings before. They’re more intimidating than I thought they would be.”

She laughed. “Oh I thought the same when I met them. They're not that bad though, just inconvenient.”

You chuckled. “I hope I didn't offend them. I really didn't mean to.”

She shook her head. “They'll be fine.”

Dinner went better than you expected. The group was relaxed and easy going and you found conversing with them easy and enjoyable.

Cassian seemed to have forgotten the slight blunder from your original meeting as he leaned back in his chair to look at you while he asked you questions.

You made sure to steer clear of his wing and smile.

Dinner concluded and Rhysand stood up. “Alright. Time for work.”

Everyone got up and you hesitantly did too. Feyre looped her arm with yours and you followed her and the group into what seemed to be both a study and a library.

The left wall was windows from floor to ceiling and the right wall was bookshelves filled to the brim with books and picture frames and knick knacks. In the back corner was a desk filled with papers and books and in front of the hearth were couches and chairs.

Everyone but Rhysand sat in front of the fire and you did too, plopping beside Feyre. Crossing your legs you looked around the room again. It truly was a magnificent room. It was regal without trying too hard and looked used in a good way.

Rhysand came up behind you and handed you a handful of loose papers filled with scribbles and drawings of territory boundaries.

“What's this?” You asked as you accepted the papers.

“Correspondences from Eris Vansarra.”

“The High Lord of Autumn?”

“That's the one. He wants to form a military alliance and I want to know what you think.”

You pursed your lips as you flipped through the pages, skimming its content.

You could feel everyone's eyes on you but for once you were anxious about it. This is what you were most comfortable doing.

“I don't really see the point, but it wouldn't hurt.” You shrugged. “It would make more sense to form alliances with the Spring and Winter Court. But,” you signed, “the Spring Court’s army is basically nonexistent since the war. He’s probably just looking for the numbers after expelling his father's most loyal generals.” You handed the papers back to him and met his gaze. “I'd do it. Nobody gets hurt and you gain an ally and an army. Not that you really need it between the Darkbringers and the Illyrians.”

The stars in his eyes were gleaming bright and an enthusiastic grin was plastered on his face. “You,” he started, taking the papers from you, “are awfully smart and so right.”

You smiled. You didn't want to agree but he was right; you were smart and you were right.

The rest of the night went like that: you giving your opinion on political matters ranging from alliances to the possibility of treaties and the question of what to do with the Spring Court.

To your surprise Lucien was nonchalant during that particular discussion. He defended Tamlin while also accepting the viewpoints of the group.

Tamlin had lost the trust of his subjects resulting in the total abandonment of the Tithe and the partial abandonment of the Great Right, Calanmai, resulting in a poor season for everybody.

You stayed quiet for this. You had already made your opinion known and you weren't inclined to change it.

A stronger High Lord was needed to reestablish peace and bring prosperity to the territory. You didn't think he should be banished, but stepping down would be the best choice to upbuild the territory. The only alternate solution would be for a courtier with expanded responsibilities be appointed but Tamlin had been difficult receiving advice and suggestions.

The hour grew late and the conversation came to a lull as everyone grew tired. You were exhausted, the hours spent socializing and strategizing your every move had tired you immensely and you wanted nothing more than to go home and never leave your house again.

“I’m afraid I’m going to need to leave. It's late and I'm working at my mom’s shop in the morning.” You gave everyone a tired smile and Amren seemed to pout just a little.

“And I was just starting to enjoy your company a little more, girl.”

You laughed and smiled, unsure of what to say so you just said goodnight and made your way towards the front door.

As you walked down the hallway you could hear heavy footsteps behind you and when you turned around you saw Cassian with his hands in his jacket pockets smiling at you.

“I thought I'd walk you home.”

You frowned. “No thank you.” You started walking again when his voice stopped you again.

“It's almost midnight.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for the doorknob. “That means nothing to me.”

“It means a lot to me. Let me just make sure you get home safe.”

Your frown deepened. “I will get home safe.”

“Let me make sure.”

“No, thank you.” You opened the door and Cassian reached over your head and shut it.

“It's the least I can do after I freaked you out earlier.”

You signed and looked at the floor, weighing your options. You looked up at him and looked at his eyes, trying to figure out why exactly he was pressing this so much. You could see that he was determined and wouldn't take no for an answer.

You sighed. “Fine.”

With a grin he pushed off the door, allowing you to open it and he followed you out.

It was cooler out than it had been when you first walked to the River House. The moon was bright, illuminating the streets as you walked through the various Palace districts and across the Sidra. You didn't mean to take the long way home but the night air was just too good to not appreciate it.

“Do you live far?” Cassian asked after a few moments of silence.

“No.”

With a silent utterance of “oh” he nodded his head. “Where do you live?”

“You're about to see, aren't you?” You gave him a side eye.

He snorted. “You're a joy to speak to. I’m just trying to make conversation.”

You hummed a noncommittal response. “I’m not sure why I have to tell you if we're going there.”

Cassian chuckled and looked at you. You hadn't looked at him fully the entire time nor when you were responding to him. Your back was straight, chin high, and eyes forward every step confident.

He hadn't seen you when he first walked in the dining room, but he sensed you. He knew the presence and scents of all his friends when they were congregated in the same room but the atmosphere was different tonight. It was thick and powerful and almost formidable and then he saw you and knew you were the source.

You had been talking with Lucien and your voice was strong and filled with a strong sense of belief in your statements that they came off as declarations of fact and not opinion. You sat straight in your chair, slightly leaning forward enjoying the discussion. A smile ghosted your features and your eyes danced with defiance.

He was excited to come in the room and figure out who you were but the way your face dropped and your body stiffened at the sight of him and Azriel made that hope shrivel up. Cassian didn’t need to smell the fear that radiated from your body, your face said it all. You were absolutely petrified at the sight of him and for some reason his heart sank at the sight. Cassian thought maybe him and Azriel looked intimidating so he figured to soothe your worries with a warm introduction but fear turned into terror as he got closer and he knew this was a futile move but he tried nonetheless. He appreciated your fake smile and greeting and the way you entertained conversation with him throughout dinner. But away from the peering eyes of the rest of the Inner Court, you let it be known that you were not interested in being in his presence or having any sort of conversation with him.

“Do you have an issue with Illyrians?” The question struck you and you stopped and looked at Cassian.

“No.” What kind of question was that?

“Then why did you act like that when Az and I came in?”

You sucked in a breath and swallowed it. Throughout your life you had decided to be honest no matter the circumstances but this time was not the time for full fledged honesty, so you opted for a half truth.

“The wings were intimidating.” You gave him a smile but Cassian noticed it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m sorry if I offended you and Azriel.”

“You wouldn’t shake my hand.” Accusation.

“I don’t like physical contact.” Truth.

Cassian's lips tugged downwards but he maintained his composure. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t like physical contact.”

You shrugged and turned around and started walking. Almost home.

“Have you always been like that?” You internally groaned. Why was he so annoying?

“Yes.”

“Why?” He jogged up to you so you two could walk side by side. His arm brushed yours and you scowled, moving away slightly.

“I don’t know. My mom said I’ve always been like that.”

“I wonder why.” He mused. Cassian looked up and nodded at the sky. “The moon is so big tonight.”

You looked up and couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your lips. “It’s a harvest moon.”

Cassian laughed. “How do you know that?”

“I read a lot.”

He hummed and almost bumped into you when you stopped and turned to face him. “This is my house. Thank you for walking me home and it was nice to meet you.”

You turned to walk up the path to your front door but Cassian grabbed your elbow and you had no choice but to turn and face him. He chuckled at your face but kept his grip on you.

“You’re very formal, you know that?”

You looked at where his hand was making contact on your jacket and then slowly at his face and tilted your head to the side. “I’m polite.”

“Polite people don’t say they’re polite.” He countered, smirking. He was proud of himself for that one.

Glaring at him, you yanked your elbow free and turned around, trudging up the dirt path. “Goodnight Cassian.”

He laughed and watched as you unlocked your door and slid inside, not once looking back at him.

Cassian liked you. He liked you a lot.

You weren’t sure what the fae was that swooped in front of your mother’s shop but its claws dug into the back of an unsuspecting bystander and lifted them in the air before dropping them onto the cobblestone road with a splat.

“Oh my gods!” You screamed, backing away from the window.

Your parents came running from the back and your mother screamed as more of those creatures fell from the sky and blood filled the streets. You could hear muffled screaming through the shop’s windows and you hit a rack as you kept backing away.

“Go to the back and lock yourself in the office. Now!” Your father yelled and reached behind the counter, pulling out a sword.

“What are you doing, Pyter!” Your mother screamed but your father ignored her as he stalked towards the door, pushing you behind him. “Get back here!” She screamed again.

You were stuck, frozen in place, unable to move. “Dad,” your voice came out as a whisper and he looked at you. “Please.”

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and smiled. “Lock the door behind me, peaches.” And then he left.

The sight of your father out in the street, raising and swinging his sword, striking down those things, sent you into motion.

You ran into the office, grabbing your own sword that you kept in the back corner behind the fabrics and ran to join your father.

“Y/N, no!” Your mother grabbed your arm, trying to hold you back but you wiggled free.

“We’ll be back. Lock the door!” You ran out into the street and towards your father.

Your father had served on the side of the mortals during the First Hybern War and had taught you everything he knew about fighting over the years. He always thought it was important for everyone to know the art of fighting either for a source of exercise, an outlet, or protection.

Raising your sword and with a cry, you sliced the creatures in half and in thirds, trudging through the blood and dead bodies. It was a sickening sight. The sky was swarming with winged creatures who were screaming and yelping with joy as they tore about your neighbors and friends.

Your father was holding his own with only a few cuts and little of his own blood. Black red blood, from the creatures, coated his shirt and you kept pushing towards him.

There was a cry and you turned to see your neighbor’s son being stalked and cornered by a creature and you abandoned your father for a brief minute and attacked the creature from behind, skewering your sword into its back and straight into its heart.

The child was crying and you hushed him, taking him into your arms and back towards your mother’s shop.

“Mom!” You were banging on the door, your head on a swivel as you looked around to make sure you wouldn’t be ambushed.

Your mother came running from the office, a baseball bat in her hand and despite the misery around you, you laughed at the sight. You lifted the boy in your arms and nodded towards the door and as she opened the door, you shoved him inside.

“I’ll be back.” You shut the door and made sure to hear her lock it as you turned around and ran towards your father.

He had been attacked more since you had left and there was more of his blood mixed in with that of the creature’s. You grunted as you thrusted your sword in another creature and then another and then one more until you were finally in his space.

He didn’t notice you as you moved to his side and copied his movements, taking down the creatures that flew around you. Sword up and to the right and then left, a jab to the side, and a thrust to the front, and then a withdrawal of your weapon with a puff of air.

“What are you doing here?” Your father shouted at you as you kicked a creature off your sword.

You whipped around. “I’m helping!” Why else would you be here?

“Go inside,” he said through gritted teeth and you took a step back, shaking your head.

“No. We’ll do this together.”

Your father knew it was no use in arguing with you. You were as stubborn as your mother and at times he thought you were worse than her. Sucking his teeth and shaking his head in disapproval and disbelief, he turned on his heel and moved further down the Palace Square and you followed him closely.

The fighting continued with defenses filling the skies and land and you and your father kept moving South.

You had gotten separated as you took on two of the winged creatures. You cried out as one of their talons swiped a gash into your arm and you stumbled, deflecting another blow with your sword. It took a few of those defensive blocks to regain your momentum and within a few swings of your sword, two dead creatures laid at your feet.

With a sigh you turned around and you could see your father further down the hill, looking back at you. Concern filled his eyes and before you could shout that you were okay, blood started to pour from his mouth and you screamed.

The scream followed you into reality as you were being shaken awake.

“No!” You cried out and you could hear a distant voice shout your name. No, no, no.

“Y/N, please!” You could hear the voice clearer now and you jolted awake, pushing away from the arms that you were gripping your shoulders.

“It’s me,” your mother breathed out, her hands raised slightly.

It was still dark out, the only light being from the moon filtering in through your sheer curtains.

You were panting, your eyes scanning the room. Were they coming? How many more were left? Where was your father?

Your pants turned into dry heaves as you clutched your chest, the memories hitting you like a physical strike and your mother climbed into your bed and pulled you into her.

“I know,” she murmured, rocking you back and forth. “It’s okay.”

You cried into her chest, the sobs turning into screams as you remembered that day; the day Hybern attacked, the day the winged creatures destroyed the city, and the day you killed your father.

#cassian fanfiction #cassian fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian x fem reader #cassian x female!reader #cassian x female reader #acotar #acosf #acofas #acomaf #acowar #c writes!#a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin

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coralseacourt · 8 months

Text

Broken Love 🪸by @coralseacourt

Summery: The youngest Acheron Sister gets rejected for Elain

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Azriel X O/C

He broke me.

Left me in Pieces

He took my heart away.

Held it in his hands , before squeezing it slowly.

Until nothing of it was left to be repaired.

2 months prior.

I was fae. My skin flawless with only a hint of color to my cheeks. My long ash blonde hair had turned more gold and shiny than they ever had been.

I was sitting in front of the mirror staring at myself, bright green eyes looking back at me.

So much had happened since Hybern, my life had changed completely.

No more poverty , warm nights instead of the cold rifts that had swept through our House.

A clear view of a starlit city and not the so familiar colorless woods.

I couldn’t identify myself with the person staring back at me and i had no one to share it with.

Feyre was now High lady and a mother with a lot of responsibilities.

But this meant also that she had less time to be present in my life, which I didn’t fault her for.

It also wasn’t her fault that I somehow always seemed to be invisible to everyone. Nesta and Elain had never been interested enough in me to care.

They had each other.

After all of the Events in the last months i had started to feel lonely. I had thought that with the birth of nyx I could be more involved, maybe helping feyre out with the baby.

But I only had seen him once which was weeks ago. They had invited me to Dinner I had been so excited to get out and see my nephew but the evening had ended with everyone interacting with each other and me sitting alone in a corner of the room .

That was the moment I decided I would not go again.

And it seemed I had gotten what I wanted. I wasn’t invited to another Dinner.

I couldn’t understand what I did wrong.

At the beginning I had thought Azriel would be a friend. He had offered me his favorite books to read .

We had talked. Sometimes all night long.

But then it stopped and I had noticed the looks he had given Elain.

Of course he looked at her, not me. She was beautiful. Even more since she was Fae

As much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself I had loved his attention , had loved that he had cared.

Something I never had experienced from anyone else besides Feyre.

I pulled my knees to my chest and laid my chin on them. Maybe I was a ghost , haunting everyone around me with my company.

I shook slightly my head and stood slowly up to leave for Dinner in the big Hall. No one ever joined me .

Cassian had at the beginning, before him and nesta were mated.

Now I was a third wheel and I had changed my dinner time early enough so he still would be at training while I was eating.

I entered the big hall and sat on the long empty table .

My food arrived immediately after.

Potatos ,red cabbage and a meat loaf.

It looked delicious, but it tasted like paper in my mouth.

I leaned my head on my hand while poking around in my meat.

”Is Everything alright, violet?”

I looked up , surprised to see Rhys leaning against one of the pillars that connected the flooring with the Sealing.

His entire Form screamed suspicion and my alarm bells started to ring. “Yes of course, why wouldn’t it be ?”

I tried not to look away from his narrowed eyes so cold and calculating.

”It’s been a while since you joined us for Dinner and I had to wonder why that is.” I shrugged nervously my shoulders, not sure what to say . But decided to tell the truth.

“ I wasn’t invited,” He raised his eyebrow and I continued.

“And even if I would have been invited , I probably wouldn’t have come.”

Surprise lit his face.

Possibly because he didn’t expected me to answer honestly?

I m sure he had read something in my Head.

I hadn’t practiced to build up walls around my mind, hadn’t seen the need for it.

I had no powers.

I was practically invisible to everyone especially Rhysand , who would have only cared if I had any magic.

Which i hadn’t.

“Why wouldn’t you have come? Are you not happy for your sisters? Are we not providing you with everything you need?”

I gulped at his words, sometimes I had the feeling Rhys was waiting for something.

Like a hawk with his prey.

“ Yes , thank you I do appreciate it. And I m very happy for them. “ Whatever Rhys saw in my mind seemed to satisfy him. His arms relaxed and his facial expression calmed down but was replaced with confusion.

“I don’t understand .” It seemed to bother him.

“ It’s just .” I stopped myself not sure how to explain.

So I showed him. The loneliness, the feeling of invisibility.

It took less effort than having to explain.

“Do you want to be seen?”

Was all he said , his hands tugged away in his pants pockets before turning around and just leaving.

Did I?

All night I had to think about his words. Did I want to be seen?

Did I do this to myself?

This isolation?

I planned to change everything starting tomorrow morning.

🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸

The next morning I was up early.

I put some comfortable pants on and a shirt that I could properly move in.

When I walked into the dining hall for breakfast, I had 3 pairs of eyes on me. Azriel, Nesta and Cassian were sitting together at the table.

I took my seat next to Azriel and started shuffling my food down, still feeling their stares.

“What are you doing up so early?”

Looking over to the big Illyrian that my sister was mated to I answered.

“ I was thinking that maybe I could participate in training today, if that’s ok. “

“No.”

My sister seemed to almost smoke from anger .

I couldn’t hide my surprise.

“No? Why? Everyone is allowed to.

The priestesses,you even Elain started recently.”

I was frustrated now .

I had to do something, I didn’t want to sit around and be miserable.

“That’s different, we earned it. You didn’t.”

Both males stared at nesta like she had grown a third eye.

“ Nesta I m sure we could start her on some easy warm ups.” A soft spoken voice next to me stated. Az.

“I m not helping her . If she is doing anything, she will have to do it with one of you.”

And with that she stood up and left.

“I go talk to her violet, she doesn’t mean it.” “She does, and you know it.”

He only gave me an apologetic look before leaving.

“If you like then i could train you.”

I looked at the Shadowsinger beside me and gave him a small smile .

“Alright. Thank you I really appreciate it.”

🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸

We started training immediately.

Spending daily time with each other .

It felt like it had at the beginning.

I knew he only did it because he felt bad for me but I couldn’t help falling for him .

His soft way of talking with me .

All the ways he tried to make me stronger with each training session.

It was what I had always wanted ,being useful.

Having someone that is willing to listen and understand me.

Everything was how it should be until the faithful day where everything changed.

🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸🐚🪸

“Arms up , like this.” Azriel pulled my arms higher making my position slightly straighter.

“Yes and don’t lose tension . Keep it exactly this way and don’t lower your eyes .”

I nodded.

Sweat running down my face, my breathing heavy and my muscles hurting.

“Violet , I said don’t look down.” He was standing in front of me his hair tousled and his eyes glowing with anger.

“ If you don’t listen to what I say, then this is useless. “ He pulled on my arm twisting it and throwing me on the floor with him on top of me his dagger pressed to my throat.

“ See. This is what happens if you lose tension in your arms, anyone could use your weakness against you.”

He was looking down on me.

Eyes so intense that I couldn’t look away. Could only feel his weight on me .

My stomach tightened. My heart raced. “Do better, learn faster, pay atten…”

His voice stopped mid sentence.

Nostrils flared, pupils blackened.

Oh god could he smell my arousal?

My cheeks flamed and Embarrassment grew inside of me.

“I …I “.

I didn’t know what to say he still had the knife pressed against my Throat.

Which he now threw to the side of the ring .

“Are you attracted to me?”

His voice was Shocked, completely stunned.

I bit my lip and tried not to crumble under his gaze.

What a fool I must be.

He was here. Spending his time helping me train and I wasn’t even able to keep my feelings to myself.

His eyes darted to my lip movements and he nervously wetted his own.

“Are you?”

“Yes .” It was senseless to deny it, he clearly could smell it.

My head turned to the side, looking at the training equipment.

Everything was better to look at then seeing his face in that moment .

“ You shouldn’t.”

His hand softly pressed against my cheek turning me back towards him.

But instead of taking it directly away again, he dragged his thumb slowly over my cheek towards my lips.

Touching them. Opening them slightly.

I gasped quietly.

His smell was intoxicating.

It filled my lungs with the heavenly scent of Cedar and Night Rain .

In one sudden move he turned us and i now was on top of him straddling his Hip.

I shivered, when I could feel something hard touching my core.

His hand dragged me down to him.

Our mouths so close I could feel his warm breath on my skin.

“You really shouldn’t .”

His eyes glowed darkly before he pressed his lips against mine .

I couldn’t believe it.

Was this really happening?

I kissed him back and completely surrendered myself to him.

His tongue licked slowly over my lips telling me to open . Which I happily did.

I could feel his hands roaming over me.

Touching, grabbing .

The heat between my thighs getting unbearable.

His mouth started to wander in a wild and impatient way, going down my Throat.

Biting, teasing.

I couldn’t hold the sounds back that emerged from me.

“Azriel “.

I groaned his Name when he started to move my Hips against his in a rhythmic way .

I had never felt something like this.

My heart was pounding and something was building up.

I bit my lip while still feeling his kisses on me .

But in one Moment I was in heaven and the next he threw me off.

I landed on my back a couple feet’s away from him.

Looking up the sealing and trying to catch my breath , I blinked confused.

“I need to go . Elain is waiting for me.” And with that he stood up and practically ran from the training room.

Part 2,

#acotar fanfic #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x oc #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x original character #azriel angst #sjmaas #sjm books #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #az x reader #fanfic #acomaf #acowar #acosf

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b0xerdancer-writes · 2 months

Text

Paper Faces on Parade

Tamlin x Reader

Summary: Tamlin was once mates with Rhysand's younger sister, but in his eageness to properly court her he did not see his father's deception and almost got her killed. Rhysand let him live upon realizing it was a honest clouded judgment error but that Tamlin would have to spend the rest of his life making it up to her, though when she believes Tamlin to have given up on her she begins moving on with Azriel yet Tamlin threatens to envoke a blood duel over her.

Prompt: Masquerade

Warnings: Heavy descriptions of violence, Blood duel, Wing cuting, murder, assassination attempts, depression and self deprecation. Mor x Elain because no one can stop me. Im sorry i hurt Azriel in this (not really). implied smut.

Word Count: 14,265 Yep this is a beast.

Notes: Phantom of the Opera was my inspiration from this prompt so uhhhh I nerded out a bit combining two of my favorite hyperfixations. its about 14,000 words/39 Pages of me being a phantom nerd. Msquerade from royal albert hall and Devil take the Hindmost from Love Never Dies are quoted here highly recommend those songs btw. Not proofread at all, I think i caught most of the plot holes/contradictions though.

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Hybern had finally been defeated and all of Prythian was celebrating, the high lords especially. Even with the tragic losses they were planning a ball or some kind or an event to celebrate what they had overcome. It had only been six months of peace when Rhysand suggested a masquerade ball in the court of nightmares. Tamlin was less than pleased with the idea but he knew Rhysand’s little sister, his mate would be there so he agreed to attend. As far as anyone knew he had always had a thing for her, no one was quite sure what it was, save for Rhysand; it had started as children when he had taken her under his metaphorical wing. He had taught her everything he had known about music after the female had taken an interest in it. Her presence left a throb in chest and sorrow in his heart.

In truth they had been incredibly close before her family was murdered by his father. He had been bitter at how they had left it, she had been screaming, crying, and punching his chest; he couldn’t blame her it was partially his fault, he misunderstood his father’s intentions. He had asked his father for permission to court the female and his father had requested he speak to the girl's father for permission, he had said that they were staying at an illyrian camp for several weeks.

So he replied to Rhysand that he would attend, his heart yearning for the princess of night; little did he know the princess of night had recently gotten engaged to the spymaster without telling anyone, everyone knew they were flirtatious and close but knew not of the truth behind their relationship, two that as far as anyone knew had never and would never find their mates.

The day of the masquerade approached faster than Tamlin thought possible, he had a mask of his beast form crafted and set off for the night court, he decided he would travel with Lucien who was adorned in a new fox mask that showed his mixed court lineage: gold like his own with a crown of sun rays; both males wore regal clothing. Lucien, who had adopted some of the Day Court traditions, was draped in white robes while Tamlin was in a deep emerald green suit adorned with a long one shoulder cape that dragged the ground behind him, a gift for the Night Court tucked under his arm that was tied with a velvet bow and would be reminder of the history the two courts had before the first ultimate betrayal between the two current high lords.

Rhysand and Cassian had spent the entire evening of the party setting up, Rhysand was dressed up as the suriel and Cassian as an attor.

“Rhys this is going to be a fucking splendid party.” Cassian cheered.

“The prologue to a bright new year.” Rhysand agreed.

“It’ll be a night, they’ll be impressed.” Cassian offered.

“Well one does one's best.” Rhysand mused and offered Cassian a drink from his desk.

“Here's to us and to the Night Court.” They cheered clinking the glasses together.

“A toast to victory, what a pity that Tamlin will be here.” Cassian and Rhys joked between each other.

The boys set off from the office to gather their dates, Nesta was dressed in a Black Gown, adorned with a silvery shawl and mask while Feyre was in a shimmery sheer black dressed made to look like bat wings with tiny ones on the back of her dress, a silver, crown and mask like Nesta’s. While the group was still gathering in the living room of the estate house the ballroom in The Court of Nightmares was beginning to flood with partygoers and performers, dressed in an array of costumes and colors, in all sorts of fabrics from scratchy tulles to shimmering satins and silks. By the time the inner circle, minus Azriel and his date that is, flooded into the ballroom. The party was in full swing with everyone excited that the wars were over for the time being and there was no looming threat in the distance for once, every face within the palace of the Court of Nightmares was a different shade and anywhere one could look another mask answered back.

Colors painted the normally dark court brilliant whether it be a flash of mauve in its pale purples or a splash of puce that echoed like a blush across its wearer, greens and blacks washed the room with the reminder of life and shadows or like that or precious onyx and emeralds, traces of rouge mixed between painted lips and intricate brilliant silks and satins, beautiful blues like sapphires or the skies offered cool tones to the room offered a refreshing sight, yellow fabrics imported from day court that could only make one beam, reds from autumn that were so rich and vibrant it could make ones head spin. The entirety of Prythian had dressed to the nines with intricate costumes and masks themselves, masks of jesters, comedically painted versions of The King of Hybern, ghouls, geese, dramatic caricatures of the human queens that one could almost find offensive, faces of beats from all across Prythian were a common sight in the ballrooms. The sheer assortment of colors and facades could leave one guessing as to who was who, to some it was a challenge or a race per say to outdo each other with the complexity and grandiose of one's own costume. Everyone seemed to be drinking up the attention and the lights, a mix of champagne glasses and civil chatter or music and a full dance floor; it could only be described as a spectacle but as much as it was a sea of smiles it was a pool for gossip, those lingering in the shadows seething with peering eyes as a male danced with a female someone else favored or those in their circles of chatter breathed lies into existence.

The inner circle had been spread out across the grand event but had finally pushed their ways through the crowds towards the throne dias, the only place that was really empty in the crowded underground palace. Rhysand who leaned comfortably against the throne in which Feyre sat finally eyed the Shadowsinger, dressed to mimic his own high lord, and his sister ,who he had a gown custom made for to look like the night sky above Velaris even her small tiara mimicked the three stars that sparkled above the city of dreamers, push through the crowd; he offered them a curt nod as the two joined the dancefloor. With the event as grand as it was in attendance it was no surprise that one would feel themselves being watched but even if you would try to run and hide from the lingering stares there was always some other pair of eyes that would find you in the new location.

Mor had offered Elain her arm as a way to escape the sheer amount of eyes that lingered on them when they stood on top of the dias. Mor had dressed herself in a spectacular red, black, and gold dress that reminded herself of the faire hosts on the continent and she had helped Elain into a more modest pink priestess like costume dress. Elain’s laugh was melodious as Mor spun her around in her arms at the base of the dias.

“What a night!” Mor had exclaimed as she had pulled Elain into her from a spin.

“What a crowd!” Elain had countered bouncing on the toes of her flats with a happy smile on her face as she looked up to Mor.

Cassian and Rhys had overheard the two fewmale’s exclamations and retorted back with their own remarks. “Makes you glad we hosted it!” Cassian exclaimed as he took a drink from the champagne flute he held in his hand.

“Makes you proud,” Rhys offered as he clinked his glass against Cassian’s own flute before taking a sip. “With all this creme de la creme.”

Nesta had snorted, offering her own two cents “They’re watching us watching them.”

“All our fears are in the past!” Elain and Mor had cheered and giggled as Mor swept Elain into a dip.

“Six months,” Rhys had started before being interrupted by the rest of the circle.

“Of relief,” Feyre had offered as a fill in.

“Of delight,” Nesta raised her glass towards Amren in silent cheers.

“Of mother sent peace.” Amren had raised her own glass back towards Nesta proud of how far the female had come.

“And we can breathe at last.” Elain and Mor had sighed happily, as Mor pulled the shorter female in for a chaste kiss.

“Here's a health” Cassian had announced before downing his glass and motioning one of the staff to bring him another glass.

“Here’s a toast to a prosperous year.” Feyre smiled, content in watching her family’s cheerful demeanor as they celebrated.

“And may its splendor never fade.” Amren had finally turned to fully engage the conversation.”

With a final round of cheers the dias emptied as the inner circle all moved to do their own things, Azriel and his darling shooting star moved towards one of the drink tables and away from the center of the dancefloor.

“Think of it!” She mused. “A secret engagement! Look, your future bride! Just think of it!” She giddily offered a champagne flute to Azriel who offered a small smile back to her.

“But why is it secret? What do we have to hide?” Azriel had countered taking a sip from his glass, pulling her close to him with a flirty smile.

“You promised me,” She whined.

“You promised me.” Azriel pouted as he leaned in to kiss her.

“No, Az, please don’t they’ll see!” She squirmed trying to pull from his grasp.

“Then let them see,” he groaned. “It’s an engagement not a crime. Starlight, what are you afraid of?”

“Let’s not argue,” She countered, trying to dismiss his questions.

“Let’s not argue.” Azriel agreed, taking a sip from his glass and releasing her waist.

“Please pretend.” She begged.

“I can only hope I’ll understand in time.” Azriel sighed.

“You will understand, in time that is.” She held one of his hands in hers with a thankful smile.

Rhysand had found the two by the table, Feyre having moved to dance with her sister, Rhysand interrupted the two with a small nod towards Azriel and pulled his sister onto the dancefloor. The pacing of the dance had changed and both Rhys and Az were separated from their starlight as she was surrounded by a gaggle of females. Azriel had begun moving through the crowd till she could see him, he offered her his hands but just as their hands touched she was spun into the arms of another dancer; Azriel groaned, pushing himself through the crowds till he reached the beverage table where Rhysand now stood pouting and began to antagonize the high lord to go fetch his own sister as everytime he attempted to they were split up again.

The music swelled and swirled as she was forced towards the front of the room, closer and closer to the dias, the music began to quicken and darken its pace, Azriel had noticed where she was heading and pushed through the crowds to catch her again after Rhys had shrugged him off. He managed to just catch her and she pulled him into the final few spins of the number, the two smiling happily between each other as Azriel lifted her by the hips into a spin as the number began to swell for a final time, the rest of the inner circle somehow having found their way to the front beside them, as the music spun into its ending and the next song was beginning no one seemed to mind or recognize the music as a darker intro played.

She had froze in place, the familiar tune echoing in her ears as the rest of the inner circle turned to chatter amongst themselves. Clicking of heeled boots made her heart race and fear began to slowly fill her chest; she was sure she was the only one who could hear the male’s gait and have it memorized so thoroughly, Rhys was the one to notice the change in his sister’s behavior and moved to question her. Though as he followed her gaze up to the dias he no longer needed an answer as to what was wrong.

Tamlin had decided to make a dramatic entrance, as he was known for now, and while it was admittedly hard for him and Luicen to set up, it was worth it now to see the faces on the Inner circle and the rest of the Prythian’s high lords. He had handed Lucien a stack of music sheets and a heavy pouch of gold to bribe the musicians into playing for his introduction, a song he knew that would only matter to her: the song they had been writing together when the mating bond had snapped in place between them, their song. It admittedly was a bold move on his part, but he was planning on sweeping her back into his arms and declaring his intentions to her in front of the entirety of Prythian. Or at least that's how he had imagined it while talking to Lucien, he planned to beg for her forgiveness for everything that had happened to her family when she was younger, make a grand reveal begging for the girl to come back to him and pleading with her to accept their bond. He had not expected for her to be on Azriel’s arm but then after all he wasn’t quite sure what he expected after all this time had passed, it was go big or go home with the gestures he figured.

Everyone had frozen as he leaned on the black stone and metal throne, a snarky smile on his face as he saw Azriel pale, saw his star’s eyes widen, saw Rhys move towards him before stalling just a few steps in front of the rest of the inner circle. They had been expecting him, just not like this, this was borderline disrespectful towards Rhysand and Feyre but he wasn’t here for them he was here for his darling mate. Feeling the tension of their high lord and his inner circle the entire gala ran quiet.

“Why so silent good messieurs?” he took a step away from the throne, straightening his stance and watched as Rhys ushered the entire room back a step.

‘Ahhh that explained it’, Tamlin considered their reactions before deciding on one reason as to why they would be reacting the way they were. ‘They don’t trust the reason I’m here, they are so used to there always being a threat around the corner that they must think I'm here to ruin their celebration of peace.’

“Did you think I wouldn’t show up Rhys? You act like I’m not one of the Lords that helped usher in this peace.” Tamlin joked, though his tone suggested otherwise.

He took a single step down the dias and while addressing the entirety of the room he opened his arms with a smile. “Have you missed me, good messieurs? I have brought you an announcement.”

It was true, he was so busy trying to figure out Hybern’s plans he had turned down countless invites to balls and galas and then after it was found out he was playing host to Hybern the invitations had stopped coming in completely. After he had helped Feyre and everyone escape Hybern’s war camp and it was made common knowledge he was playing double agent people were still hesitant to trust him and while invitations did start coming back in he often put them off to work on restoring his court instead.

“I figured it would be best to announce myself here, at such a grand celebration, where everyone could see what it means to me.” He smiled brightly, his emerald eyes glinting in the faelight gleaming from the grand chandelier.

“I advise you to hear me out, my meaning should be clear. I intend no malice here.” Tamlin raised his hands as if to calm the crowds.

Rhys seemed to relax as Tamlin made his intentions aware, Tamlin gestured for his darling star to step forward Azriel’s brows furrowed and he tried to pull her behind him but all he could do was reach out for her as she shook his hands off and stepped past Rhys to lock eyes with Tamlin. Tamlin took another step down the dias and extended one hand out for his star to take, when she complied he pulled her tight against him.

He dropped his forehead to touch hers, and he sighed as if it was the first breath of fresh air he had taken in in a very long time. “Our souls still sing as one, you never rejected me?”

She took a sharp breath in. “How could I? I only ever heard bad or negative things about you but through it all you never once closed off the bond, but you never reached out for me either.”

Tamlin tensed as he smelt the underlying cool musk scent that he was familiar with as the Shadowsinger, mix with her own soft night wind scent. “You smell like the Shadowsinger…”

Azriel reading the situation with a negative connotation rushed forward to pull her away from the High Lord of Spring. Rhysand’s eyes widened as he processed the news of his little sister and old best friend having a mating bond the two had never consummated or had never been closed off or rejected like he had assumed it had been after everything that had happened; his attention had flitted from the sweet and sincere scene on the dias to Azriel ,who’s movement was rage filled and volatile in stark contrast to his normal behavior, before the male could pass Rhys took hold of his arm. The shadowsinger turned to look back at Rhys with a pained snarl on his face that softened when he saw the look in Rhys’s eyes, a plea to not make this any worse as they both knew Tamlin was not an honorable male and she was in so much danger being that close alone that if he were to walk up there Tamlin might very well sweep her away and start the next war to keep her as his. Or that was how Azriel perceived it, Rhys however wasn’t sure the exact clarification for how he meant it but he knew it was probably a good thing he didn’t let Azriel march up there; Rhys knew Azriel fancied his little sister and just wasn’t good at proclaiming it, he knew that the chance of Az saying ‘Fuck it’ and storming up there with his rage scrambling any clear thinking would end up in one of them declaring a blood duel.

Azriel had been asking Rhys for weeks now for permission and advice on properly courting her, it was a ploy Azriel had ran by her as a way to keep the rest of the circle out of the details of their relationship, instead hiding the true nature within bedroom walls. It had been sudden for Azriel, his Starlight had been down in the dungeons on order of Rhys while he was out; he had just been coming back in from a mission and was about to start writing a report for Rhys when she was on her way out. She had stopped at the basins to wash some blood off her hands and Azriel didn’t know what quite compelled him to stop but he was glad he did so now, she had looked up at him with eyes sparkling like the stars and a happy smile on her face as she welcomed him back; his eyes widened as he took her in and his heart ached, he wasn’t sure what had changed between now and the last time he had seen her weeks ago, maybe it was the fact she was one of the only ones who genuinely responded to his letters more than the basic check ins he did with his brothers. Whatever it was though, Azriel knew he needed her close to him then and there, he had thanked her for keeping the dungeons in check for him and offered to take her out for dinner on the Sidra. That was how it had started over a year ago now, after the war with Hybern Azriel had proposed to her but confided in Rhys that he wished to simply court his sister, other than that to the inner circle they were simply flirting but did not necessarily belong to one another.

When Azriel had stormed into his office the first time begging Rhys for permission to court his younger sister and if he was allowed how should he go about doing so Azriel hadn't let Rhys get a word in before he had worked himself up and left the room apologizing profusely, it was probably for the best in the worst possible way because if Azriel had let him speak Rhys would have quizzed him on where this sudden romantic interest in his sister was coming from and probably denied the male outright. Rhys was over protective of his little sister, more so than he probably needed to be but no one was complaining so who was he to judge, Rhys had assumed Azriel was too worried and anxious to actually act on asking her out. He knew Azriel cared about her more so than was probably good for the spy master and he had every intention of telling the spymaster it wasn’t a good idea if Az ever made his way back into his office, which just hadn’t happened yet so Rhy bid his time separating them if Az ever got too close to her for his liking.

It wasn’t that Rhys had anything against Az and her being together and honestly they would have made a cute couple but Rhys knew more than he probably should have, she was his sister after all and he was the one who had carried her half alive body from the cabin where she had been left on death’s doorstep ripped apart and bloody; it was one of the only things he could never forgive Tamlin for in all honesty, she had trusted him, he had trusted him. He hadn’t thought much of it about a week before the attack on her, his mom, and their other sister, when the she had winnowed in from the spring court drunk on Spring wine way after their father had already turned in to bed for the night; she had been rambling, hardly able to fly in a straight line when she had landed on the balcony and Rhys inwardly groaned as he pulled her up the stairs towards her room.

It was only after the door had clicked shut and he had sat her on the neat padded couch and asked the house for water did he think to ask her what had led to the late night drinking spree.

“Alright fess up, what got you in the drinking spirit?” He had asked placing the glass of water in her hand before standing up and moving towards the girls dresser and sifting through it looking for a pair of the girls silk pajamas.

“Tam-” She had started but was interrupted by a hiccup as tears started bubbling in her eyes.

Pulling out the pair of black silk pjs Rhys’s brows furrowed, a growl threatening to spill from his throat. “What the fuck did he do to you?”

“No, no, no Rhys… its not like that!” she pulled her knees into the couch and turned herself around to look over the back of the couch at Rhys as he walked back over pajamas in hand.

“Then how is it?” Rhys’s voice softened. “I thought you had music lessons with him today?”

“I did,” She confirmed. “We were working on this piece together, he was teaching me how to write music and well, we just kept moving closer and closer as we worked on the song.”

“And?” Rhys prodded sitting the pajamas on the coffee table.

She shifted back to face forwards with a pout. “It was going really well, he was super proud of the progress we had made on it. Like I said we kept getting closer, well when we wrapped the song up he just. Well he just leaned forward and kissed me!” Her voice was raised in a ‘can you believe the audacity of that man’ tone.

Rhys laughed. “You decided to drink because you were upset he kissed you?”

She shot him a look that read ‘Why the fuck would I do that dumbass’ “Mother no! Let me finish Rhys!”

He had to refrain from laughing again at her attitude. “Go right ahead.”

“Thank you!” she huffed. “Well, when he kissed me I felt this like spark in my chest and I knew what it meant, he felt it too I think ‘cause his eyes widened and then he deepened the kiss and mumbled something about thanking the mother it was me as his mate. He was so excited he offered to take me out drinking as a celebration. We ended up calling it a night so I just winnowed back, took me a couple times believe me but when I finally made it back into the court I flew the rest of the way back up here. Cold Night air is not as sobering as you would think.”

Rhys smiled and patted her shoulder. “Well then congrats on finding your mate dear sister, with Tamlin of all males as well there couldn’t be a better match. Get some rest, don't forget we have to fly out to Windhaven tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yeah, yeah get out so I can go to bed.” she waved him off, grabbing the folded silk pajamas from the coffee table and making her way into the attached bathing room.

Rhys left to his own room and found himself at a writing desk he had tucked into the corner, writing to Tamlin his own form of congratulations; after all he had already considered the male a brother and now even more so if he was actually to be mated to his sister.

When the morning came she barely remembered the interaction with him, and had practically begged him to keep it a secret until her and Tam had a chance to talk. He had agreed as they flew out then winnowed into the camp grounds, Rhys wished he could have frozen those moments in time; when everything was happy and alright, when he didn’t get hung up on what could have been like those powdered icing sugar cookies he got from the bakery a block over from the river estate that had opened recently: his youngest sister would have loved those, she had one of the biggest sweet tooths around.

Five days had passed and he was needed back in Velaris, leaving the rest of his family in Windhaven but something just didn’t sit right with him like an anxious pit in his stomach. He should have told Azriel and Cassian to be on guard or something to have patrols out in the area around the cabin but for some reason he didn’t and now he blamed himself for so much.

Rhys had woken up that night as his father stormed in the air buzzing and electrified with palpable energy. “Up boy, hurry get dressed. Something’s happened. I have already sent word to Windhaven to check we will meet them there.”

Rhys paled and his stomach dropped as he threw his leathers on half haphazardly. In all honesty he had barely slept maybe ten minutes here or there, he had just drifted off for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes finally when that door had swung open; in all honesty Rhy should have been exhausted but the adrenaline pumping through his system was convincing him otherwise.

The night was a blur painted in red for him, when he had gotten there Cassian amd Az were sitting on a rock with their hands in their hands, they had been sleeping in the barracks recently in some way to show the others they belonged here just as much as they did, both males perked up when they heard the sound of Rhys winnowing back into camp. They offered him a pitiful look that worried Rhys, his eyes darted between them and the door and just as they were beginning to stand Rhys took off in a full sprint towards the slightly ajar splintered door; he heard his father’s voice call out for him but he was through the door and standing in a pool of blood before any words processed in his head.

It was a mess, the table had been flipped and chipped on the counter the chairs were thrown across the room and had splinters or pieces missing, broken ceramics and wood chunks from dining sets were scattered across the floor; the living room was a mess in its own the couch had been flipped, wood pokers strewn across the floor in front of the fireplace with one tipped in blood and tossed to the other side of the room. By the cauldron Rhys was going to be sick if it wasn’t for the adrenaline pulsing through his body right now, blood was absolutely everywhere: splatters pools, streaks, handprints, you name it; What Rhys found the worst was the two bodies slumped over in the kitchen, absolutely brutalized in gouged scratches and gaping wounds. Rhys stilled, two there was only two in here his mom and the youngest sister both of whom where half dressed and had bones sticking out and gaping gashes in their back where their wings had been, he realized how bad the attack and assault had been due to the tear tracks and the disorder in their undressed states.

An alarm was going off in his head. Where was his other sister? His eyes scanned the room as a sob bobbed in the back of his throat, they were born only a year apart and had grown up incredibly close together they acted as if they were twins despite the fact they weren’t. She had been here when the attack had been sprung he deduced, there were three plates made at the table and two others off to the side just in case Cas and Az decided to show up to eat with them instead of in the main house. She had been the person in the living room he reasoned based on the fact the bodies were in the kitchen, she would have been relaxing on the couch when they barged in and put the couch between her and the attacker she had taken the fire poker as a weapon, she wouldn’t have been able to get up to her room where her actual weapons were. Yet her body wasn’t down here and there wasn’t a significant amount of blood in the snow, only the pool right outside the doorway, then his eyes landed on the footprints leading up the stairs and the small drops of blood trailing up the stairs.

He had never booked it up a staircase faster, his eyes following the trail on the floor; had the attackers still been there he would have been a goner, he stopped as he came face to face with the slightly ajar door to his sisters room. The boys bunked together which left her to bunk with their youngest sister and their mother had her own room; A small bathing room was at the opposite end of the hallway, he had to swallow an anxious breath as he pushed the door open slowly.

He had wanted to sob, the room was barely touched except for her, laying on her stomach on her bed, like care had been taken with her; the same scene as her mother and sister in the severity of the wounds on her back, Rhys would thank the mother everyday that while he was observing her she wasn’t in the same state of undress and that he was able to catch her weak breath. Her face was looking at him and yet her eyes were weak and open a small weak smile graced her face as she let out a small bloody cough, she had tried to call his name but all that had come out was a wheeze and more coughing that swept her into unconsciousness. Rhys’s brain went from being on a stall to being in overdrive as a sob wracked his body, he hauled her up into his arms as gently as he could and took off back through the halls of the cabin and down the stairs out into that frigid cold air.

When his feet sank into the snow outside everything happened so quickly he could barely remember screaming that she was still alive, that they could still save her if they got her to Madja in time. He knew their father had taken her from his arms and was gone within the minute, his knees had given out and it had been Cassian and Azriel that had caught him. When he had finally made it back into Velaris the next night he refused to leave her bedside even when Madja advised that he should just let the girl rest, it took his father waltzing in with that dark look in his eyes that made Rhys finally step away.

The firm hand on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts, his fathers hardened steel eyes met with his own. “I found out who it was.”

“Who was it?” Rhys’s voice was hoarse; he had barely said a word in the last 24 hours and any use of his voice was from screaming or crying.

“Spring court.” His father had told him and he had to take a moment to make sure he had heard his father correctly.

“Spring court?” Rhys had double checked.

“Yes, you seem surprised, has something happened?” His father had asked quizzically.

“I just don’t understand why Tamlin would have helped do something like that.” Rhys looked down with his brows furrowed.

“Look son, I understand you both have been friends for an incredibly long time but-” His father had started before Rhys had interrupted him.

“No, it's not for that reason!” Rhys had barked out with more venom than he had intended.

“Then for what reason do you mean boy?” His fathers gaze hardened.

“Just,” He sighed. “I don’t see why Tamlin would attack his own mate at all, especially when they both came across as happy about it.”

“She's his mate?” His fathers eyes drifted to her sleeping body.

“She had just found out before we left, Tamlin was planning to ask his father for permission to court her properly.” Rhys mumbled.

“You know this how?” His father had asked.

“She was drunk the night before we left, spilled her guts about it to me. Her and Tamlin had gone out for celebratory drinks, after I had put her to bed I wrote a congratulatory letter to Tam and he had wrote back thanking me and asked me to keep it quiet, he said he was going to ask his father to properly court her and if he got permission there he was going to come to you to ask. I told him we would be up in Windhaven if he needed to find us to get your permission or if he needed to run away.” His voice was shaky as he stumbled to recall what the letter he had received from Tamlin had said.”He said he loved her and he was bound and determined to court her either way, even if he had to run away. Something had to have happened.”

“Possibly, I’m sure something happened or there was a lie somewhere along the way.” His father offered him a sympathetic nod in comfort. “Either way we head out tonight, you can deal with Tamlin and I’ll deal with his father and brothers.”

“Okay.” Rhys nodded.

“Be on the balcony just past midnight.” His father had turned to step back out of the room, his hand falling from his shoulder.

The air hung heavy as he returned to his seat beside her bed, if he stayed standing he would begin to pace while thinking about what he would say to Tamlin tonight although he knew no matter what it would end in blood and violence.

When night finally fell, Rhys was leaning in the archway of the balcony before even his father had made it downstairs; he had spent too much time being able to brood on the situation and now his entire being was pure rage, he fully believed Tamlin had been lying to him about the entire situation now, that was why he had decided to go out to drink and that he just had to pull her along with him to not arouse suspicion.

His eyes almost seemed darker than his father’s did when the older male finally had joined him down stairs, one set of darkened steeled violet eyes met another in an unspoken vow on how the rest of the night would go. His father, the only one able to winnow in and out of the mountain palace’s wards, took the male by the shoulder and winnowed them as close to Rosehall as they could without setting off the wards and silent alarms, due to the estate having frequent visitors you could walk through the wards but not winnow and it was considered a ‘safe guard’ though it was one of the weakest safe guards Rhys had seen.

Getting into the estate was rather simple, it was late enough even the servants would be asleep and they had a tendency to not lock the door, Tamlin had told Rhys that once and in turn he had made a note of that to his father; as they snuck around the side of the estate ducking under window sills in case any late night wanderers or the heir and his father decided to get up for a late night wander, with a silent nod they tested the handle on the servants quarters door and stepped inside to a silent house. The servants quarters were easy to sneak through without a care for exactly how silent they were, it wasn’t until they reached the main hall that they tested every step with a soft foot before putting any pressure on a floor board, any noise could give their position away. He felt the familiar knock of his father’s clawed hands on his mental shields and accepted him in with a questioning look.

‘You take care of Tamlin and I will deal with Verdanon and the others. We split up at the top of the stairs.’ His father’s voice was stern in his head.

Rhys simply nodded following the older male’s steps, turning down the left hall as his father went down the right hall; Rhys looked over his shoulder watching as his father passed the empty room’s of Tamlin’s long dead brothers without a second thought, he turned back towards Tamlin’s door at the end of the hallway. His steps weighed heavier and heavier as he approached the familiar oak carved door, his thoughts drifted as his hand fell to the iron door handle a scratching sound on the other side of the doors followed by a frustrated growl and the soft sound of something with scarce weight hitting the floor caused the hair on Rhys’s neck to stand on end.

He straightened his stance, he could hear the creak of his father opening the door at the other end of the hall ever so softly, turning the iron handle and inching the door open till he could see Tamlin stationed at his writing desk with his back to him and his head in his hands.

Before Rhys could take another step into the room he was startled by Tamlin calling out to him. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to show up here.”

Rhys stepped into the room, forgoing any thought of being quiet as he heard the beginning of a struggle down his father’s way. “And here I am.”

His voice was venomous towards Tamlin and in all honesty he hadn’t meant it to be so dark, he couldn’t claim to know the whole story; it hurt him more when he saw Tam flinch in his seat.The flinch had his gaze sharpening on the blonde male and he strode forward quickly, unsheathing his dagger with full intent of sinking it into the blonde.

Hearing the familiar sound of metal being wielded against himself Tamlin rose quickly from his chair, the light wooden thing clattering against the glossy hardwood floors as he turned to block Rhys’s attack with only a letter opener. It bought him just enough time to try and grab ahold of Rhys’s wrist with his free hand, even though the attempt failed miserably and the dagger had sunk against the bones in his arm. His eyes widened, and breath trembled as he took in the emotions etched into Rhys’ very being.

“Rhys!” He called out with his voice wavering. “Please talk to me about this, I swear to you I had no idea what my father was planning to do!”

“Don’t lie to me Tam.” Rhys had growled, pressing the blade hader against the bone of the blonde’s arm.

“I’m not Rhys,” Tamlin swallowed a shallow breath, the edges of his vision beginning to turn white with pain. “I promise if you ask me for all the details of what happened I won't lie to you.”

The weight of the words hung in the air as Rhys’s gaze narrowed, without removing the blade from the male under him he extended his non dominant hand in an offering. “If you do lie I won’t hesitate to kill you I can promise that.”

Tamlin nodded, dropping the letter opener and shaking the ravenette’s hand as magic sizzled in the air around them settling into a small shooting star pattern; instead of the regular black ink bargains and promises normally settled into the one that seared itself into their skin was nearly white in color looking instead like a scar on their arms, a metaphor maybe Rhys thought now for the scar the damage of that night had done on their families. Rhys ground his jaw as he pulled the sword from its spot embedded in Tamlin’s arm, the latter flinching at the grinding noise as it was pulled from the bone.

Tamlin moved to pick up the chair as Rhys sheathed his dagger and noted the fact his arm was taking a moment to seal up, probably due to the damage to the bone, as his blood dripped against the floor he offered the chair to Rhysand. Tamlin sighed and leaned against the ornately carved wooden poster of his bed letting the raven haired male adjust and fixate his violet gaze onto his own green ones.

“You know the details of how we found out so I will spare you the details of that for times sake and instead will start us with dinner the next day if that is alright with you.” Tamlin had offered Rhys a chance to rebuttal even though it was more of a statement.

“That's fine with me, get on with it.” Was the responding growl.

“Like I told you I was ready to completely flee this court if it was necessary, Rhys, please don’t give me that look.” Tamlin had looked up at the other male with a miserable pleading look in his eyes. “I love her mind you, I’d still walk out of here if I didn’t have a clue how tonight is going to end.”

“If you love her, why would you hurt her like that Tam? Can you answer that question? She still hasn’t woken up, I hope you know that.” Rhys’s gaze was hardened into a glare that had the blonde sinking against the post to drop his head defeatedly into his knees.

“I tried to protect her the best I could at that moment in time, I wish I could have done more but all I could do was carry her upstairs so she couldn't see the carnage or her mother and sister.” Tamlin had sighed, the disappointment in himself obvious as he sank to the floor.

“You were the reason she made it upstairs?” Rhys questioned and Tamlin nodded.

“Yeah, but I should start at that dinner, not in the middle of it all. Please give me this one thing, Rhys.” Tamlin asked and Rhys could see the swirl of sorrow deep in those emerald orbs.

“Get to it then.” Rhys barked and Tamlin nodded.

“I was nervous, I stayed in my room the entire day trying to think of how to ask for her to my father whilst being surrounded by my brothers.” Tamlin had rested his arms over his knees fiddling with one of the several rings on his fingers with a sad smile on his face. “When I was called down for dinner I was so nervous I could hardly sit still, we always go by birth order for events of the day or subjects we wished to discuss so I of course was the last one to get asked. Normally I turn down the invitation to scramble back to my poetry books but they all turned to look at me when I had said actually I did have something I wanted to ask about.”

Tamlin let his head fall back against the wooden post. “They were surprised but were more than happy to let me have my piece, I started it with an upfront statement, That I had settled on a female I wished to court, my father asked me who of course and I said her name that she was actually my mate and we both were aware of it but I wanted the chance to properly court her.” He broke up his sentences with a scoff. “I should have known better than to believe he would have been okay with it from the get go, should have figured there was something off when he said he'd ask your father and that should have been the end of the conversation but no I had to push it because I knew you all were not available in Night Court. I told him you all were going to be in the Illyrian mountains at the camp instead that your mother had a cabin on the far outskirts of the camp and that you all would be staying there and we needed to send the letter there instead. A couple days later he told me he had gotten a letter inviting us out there to meet with you all and that afternoon we set out to head towards your court.”

“You didn’t think anything of simply being informed of the letter and not seeing it with your own eyes?” Rhys had frowned at the blonde’s lack of consideration.

“I was too excited with the prospect of being able to properly court her and wedding bells on the horizon at the time to see the cloud of deception hanging above me.” Tamlin bit his tongue to prevent himself from getting snappy.

“Figured you smarter than that Tam.” Rhys taunted.

“We will see about that on the day you find your mate Rhys.” Tamlin countered with an eye roll, continuing with his story before Rhys could interject with another comment on his actions. “We made it out to the camp, I figured you were going to be there. Honestly I didn’t know you and your father had headed back to your estate yet so I thought nothing of it when my father simply knocked on the door. Your mother was the one to answer and my father was pushing inside with a blade drawn quicker than I realized, I stood in the doorway frozen as I realized he had lied to me. He attacked your mother and youngest sister first took their wings, and then he attacked her she had put up the most fight, had been yelling at me the entire time to step in but I could feel her fear and it doubled my own I couldn't move until my father dragged her over to me and dropped her at my feet saying I needed to finish her. He moved into the kitchen where you mother and baby sister were, when I realize what he was doing I pulled her into my arms and under the disguise I wanted her privately to myself so I could really cherish her I carried her up to her bed and sat with her, I cried and begged for her apologies told her I didn't know he was going to do what he did and that it was all my fault for not seeing through his lie. She reached out to touch my cheek, told me it was okay she wasn’t mad at me, and in turn I told her I would spend my whole life trying to find a way to make it up to her.” Tamlin’s voice quivered as he hurried to sum up the story, wiping a tear from his cheek that he hadn’t even realized he had shed.

“I mean that Rhys, even if making it up to her is staying as far away as possible.” Tamlin mumbled looking up to Rhys who actually had pity in his eyes for the male.

“You truly didn’t mean for what happened to happen?” Rhys scowled.

“It truly was not my intention, I figured by bringing her upstairs she would have the best chance to make it through, that by doing so she would have some chance to survive so that at least that way she didn’t have to watch her mother and sister be slaughtered; I knew if she stayed downstairs he would make sure her life was ripped from her, he had already taken her wings and there was enough blood on me for him to believe she was dead.” Tamlin sighed.

When no stinging came from the tattoo Rhys decided he was satisfied with the answer. “My father has slaughtered your brothers and no doubt is working on your father now. If my father survives the fight you will have to make yourself nonexistent and flee into hiding, you will never be able to see her again as long as he lives and I swear to you I will do my best to keep her from you even if the opposite is true. You have hurt her in a way I as her brother can not forgive, even if she does the second she wakes up I still will not; You will have to earn her trust all over again and until I am convinced you have redeemed yourself I won't allow you near her.”

“Those are terms I can agree to.” Tamlin looked up at Rhys hopeful.

“I will not make it into a bargain for your sake, it will simply be of my own determination if you have redeemed yourself in my eyes and I will not lay out the terms for what that entails.” Rhys stood from his chair and extended a hand to Tamlin who took it in kind to stand from his position on the floor.

Rhys pulled Tamlin into a half hearted hug, catching the blonde off guard. “For everyone's sake in this, I hope you do manage to redeem yourself. For what it’s worth Tamlin, you had always made her happy.”

Tamlin felt his heart shatter as Rhys’s words sank into his chest, that one word destroyed his world: had. Tamlin decided that one word would haunt him until he felt himself a good enough male to finally attempt to redeem himself for her. Though no words were spoken further as screaming and clattering spilled into the room from the hallway on the other side of the door, there was an unspoken acknowledgement between the two of what was to come.

It was the last time Tamlin and Rhys had really seen eye to eye on anything, Tamlin never felt like he was worthy of trying to redeem himself and then everything with Amarantha had Tamlin feeling disgusted in himself, he let his self hatred for what he had allowed of his court, of his people, of his friends, and of himself outweigh the thoughts of redemption for all of the above. He drowned himself in paperwork, in Lucien’s understanding on nights they would get drunk and miserable about loves lost to them, in Feyre so he could forget what he should have had. His distaste in himself turned him uncaring and cold, he found himself unable to care for the once human girl because she would never really have his heart. He threw himself into trying to be enthusiastic with court relations and wedding planning where he had almost snapped Ianthes head off for how pushy and annoying she got to him, he didn't honestly care about the wedding it wasn’t her, the one he really wanted to be going through this with.

When Rhys came to collect Feyre from the wedding Tamlin hated how thankful he was to the ravenette and wanted to turn in on himself for how hopeful he had gotten that Rhys might have dragged his sister along for show. When Feyre ran off to join Rhys’s side after nights of Tamlin being haunted with memories of his inability to protect dear little starlight caused him to lash out at her and seal her in the estate, Tamlin hated that he had taken his inner grievances out on her. He hated that when she had finally returned but fled with Lucien that he understood why both left him, even after everything he had been through with the day court's heir. It wasn’t until he had caught a glimpse of her after the high lord’s meeting where he had been so cruel did he remember why all of this was happening in the first place, all he had seen was a passing glimpse of her and those terrible scars on her back that his cold, calculated, purposefully arrogant, and admittedly self detrimental walls shattered again yet even more painfully this time; he wanted to call out to her to drop to his knees and beg for her to forgive him for every callous action he had taken but he couldn’t, no, he wasn’t worthy in his own eyes to have her own eyes land on him, it was the one sided interaction that had catapulted him into trying to claw his way back out of the pit he had dug for himself. It wasn’t until rhys walked through the archway she had just disappeared across that Tamlin realized he had been staring at the spot she once stood, all Rhys had offered him was a raised brow as he approached and a touch to the shoulder; Rhys knew he had seen her that her very presence had been enough to shake him at his core.

“I think I’m ready to start to redeem myself for her.” Tamlin’s voice was hoarse and it even shocked himself to feel how close to tears he was.

“Then do your best to earn it, for her at least.” Rhys nodded and patted the spot his hand rested at tamlin’s shoulder.

Tamlin moved to turn to walk back down the steps and back towards the other camp he hated so violently but could not do a thing about it, not yet, at least he had offered the plans to the other lords.

“Oh, and Tamlin,” Tamlin was caught by surprise when Rhys called out to him and he looked over his shoulder turning slightly to look back at the male who had a small smile on his face, his arms crossed, and the slightest teasing head tilt as he watched the blonde male walk away. “You were right.”

Tamlin’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“What you said all those years ago, about the idea of marrying your mate clouding your brain. I get it.” Rhys offered the oher a nod as Tamlin let out one sad, dry, laugh to himself.

“I told you so.” Tamlin had muttered as he turned away from the other male and slipped out the castle’s walls.

The two had been against each other for so long that they both had forgotten what it had been like to banter with the other. Rhys’s soft smile turned into one of sadness as the doors closed behind his old friend, he looked down at the floor before turning to join his family in the courtyard that conjoined their rooms all together. He watched his sister play Azriel in chess from a spot leaning against a column, Tamlin realizing he had to change for her was the first positive mark in his book and he knew more were to come if such a fleeting glimpse was enough to move the male the way it did.

Rhys knew she still cared about the blonde it was evident in the way she wore the emerald Tamlin had sent Rhys him home with the night they both became highlords to give to her, around her neck; Rhys didn’t think she had taken the thing off except for the one or two times the clasp had broken in the hundreds of years since.

His belief of where her affections still truly lie was only solidified the night Elain had been kidnapped and Feyre had gone undercover to return her with the aid of Tamlin. When they jumped the cliff one of Hybern’s archers had shot an ashwood arrow right into his ribcage while he was still in beast form; it had rendered him unconscious and trapped in his form. She had rushed out of her tent at the commotion and her face had paled when she had seen the great beast with laboring breaths, Rhys had frozen on his spot as she pushed through the crowds to drop to her knees and began immediately assessing his wounds; processing there was no bane in his blood she had screamed at Rhys to give her his dagger and when Rhys didn’t move she was rushing over to take it from off his waist. When medics finally caught up to the scene she was ordering them around as she rolled up her sleeves and muttering apologies to the male as he was slipping the dagger into the skin either side of the arrow to cleanly remove the barbed edges without the ash wood splintering inside of him. When she had tossed the arrow off to the side and his body finally caught up with the removal of the arrow the medics were hauling him off to the tents and she rushed off to her tent to clean the blood from her shaky hands. He had gone to check on her that night, finding her absent from her tents and instead in the private medical tents crying over the blonde male; Rhys simply sighed before turning to leave without saying a word or even alerting her to his presence.

Everything since then had been leading up to now and somewhere deep in his chest he knew it was coming and expected it but could see how violent the situation could turn at any second with two males vying for the same female's attention. Rhys would never admit outloud if he had to choose between the two males on who he would have her married off to that it would be Tamlin, Azriel was a good male and less temperamental but he had females throwing themselves at him and he liked to toy with that fact and he had no doubt that she would get hurt if he decided to take that toying a bit too far; Tamlin though had only ever held any interest in two females, her and Feyre, but Rhys, Tamlin, and Feyre all knew it was simply forced and situational with her after the truth was revealed and while he was temperamental Rhys had seen her calm him plenty of times when they were younger. Plus Rhys had seen how Tamlin had worked his ass off after that night even restoring the entire Spring Court and Rosehall by himself, he had worked for this, he had worked to keep the unspoken promise between the two.

So as the reality of the situation currently on display for anyone in Prythian to see Rhys’s mind was going a thousand miles a minute as Azriel struggled against his hand and Tamlin’s eyes sparkled sadly as his green orbs took her in that close to him yet she smelled like another male.

Rhys’s nostrils flared and his head snapped towards him as he had to bite his tongue and grind his teeth when Azriel’s voice rang out against the murmur of the crowd. “She is to be my bride, take your filthy hands off her.”

The entirety of the inner circle’s attention stilled on the aggravated male whose wings were flared in a posturing behavior to make himself seem larger than the blonde male. Rhys’s eyes flicked over to the blonde male and his sister whose eyes had dropped to the floor and carried a self disappointed sadness in them from where he stood.

Tamlin’s eyes steeled on the angry illyrian and turned to the female in his grasp, his thumb and forefinger coming to rest under her chin as his voice was soft and sympathetic. “Look at me.” When her eyes rose only to his lips he sighed. “In the eyes, darling.”

Rhys watched as her entire posture changed, Tamlin offering her a small smile as he mumbled a small bit of praise her way, “There she is.”

Azriel fought and yelled against him, even turning threats towards Rhys himself when he refused to let him pass, the two on the dias having an unspoken conversation; their eyes weren’t glazed over so Rhys knew the conversation wasn’t in their heads simply reading the others emotions in each other's eyes and over the bond, the two seeming to come to some understanding as she was the first to move.

Cupping one of Tamlin’s cheeks, the blonde nuzzling against her soft touch her voice was weak and she was clearly on the verge of crying from whatever Tamlin had shown her. “Oh, Tam…”

Tamlin simply pressed a kiss to the palm of the hand she held his face with but the action had Azriel pushing through Rhys’s hold, Cassian realizing at exactly the same time as Rhys both males struggling to get any kind of grasp on him as he surged forward. The sudden violent movements had her startling and her eyes glazed over for a split second as her pupils shrunk, Tamlin felt whatever emotion she had sent down the bond as he growled and pushed her behind him getting between her and Azriel. The Illyrian had no intention of hurting her but she was always one to easily panic at sudden violence that was directed in her general vicinity, well at least after a similar sudden wave of violence had cost her her mate and nearly killed her. The growl was a warning for the spymaster, as Rhys and Cassian managed to barely keep a hold of him, indiscernible threats and promises of violent actions fell from the winged males tongue.

Tamlin simply tucked the small female closer into his side and raised a brow above those hardened emerald orbs. “Is it to be a blood duel then spymaster?”

The hair on the back of Rhys’s neck stood up at the sincere threat that hung in the air, knowing as much as he loved Azriel Tamlin was a high lord, who was fighting for his mate and that was a monster one would not truly wish to push into a blood duel. “Azriel.” His voice was a sharp chastising warning to the struggling shadowsinger.

Something in the way Rhys had hissed his name had Azriel coming back to his senses, watching the way she desperately clung to the blondes emerald vest with shaky fingers.

He looked to the ground for a second before meeting the green eyes of the High Lord, his wings tensing closed behind him. “She looks for sympathy, I give her sorrow. She asks for honesty, I’ve none to borrow. She needs a tender kiss, begs it of me, in turn I give her ugliness so why does she love me? She yearns for higher things, things I can’t give her. The rush her song brings, the one you wrote with her, I can’t deliver that. Even when she plays and soars above me, I try to clip her wings and shut down whatever it is she's playing; can you answer me then why does she love me? I've tried to get her to leave the hurt behind even when I knew not the reason behind it.”

Tamlin sized him up with a simple rake of the emerald orbs over the muscular figure of the shadowsinger, fully ready to pounce if the other male agreed to the duel, making sure he had one hand to steady her and calm the panic that slowly rose in her chest that he could feel echo in his own like a whisper. Rhys and Cassian exchanged looks past Azriel, questioning looks between eachother as a silent question of ‘Did you know about this?’ was exchanged, only for the looks to turn worried as Azriel slowly pushed their hands away and rolled his shoulders to stand at the base of the dais.

“She wants the man I was, supportive and caring, at least she thinks she does, She needn’t bother when I was acting like she was overly fragile and would shatter at the slightest touch. In reality beneath the facade I wear for her, that's nothing like me, just cruel, protective, and obsessive in all honesty. She knows little of what I’ve done to others but knows how I allow females to flirt with me at her expense. So what about you Tamlin, what makes you so deserving of her?” Azriel hissed, with a roll of his shoulders, Rhys and Cassian ready to pull Azriel back away from the dais if he seemed like he was going to storm up the dais at the blonde.

The two offered another hiss of his name in warning and he looked back over his shoulder at them. “What it's not like he’s any wortheir of her than I am, he may be a high lord but I am not afraid of him.”

Tamlin straightened his posture, but angled his head lower like a predator would do when assessing if he should pounce on his prey now, it was clear where this conversation was going and what Azriel would decide on. He pulled her hands off him so she could take a few steps back from the possible fight that was to break out, and took a step down the stairs causing Azriel’s head to snap back in his direction.

“Not afraid of me you say, yet no one asked if you were in the first place.” Tamlin growled. “You think yourself more worthy of her, that you own more of her heart than I do?”

“She is my finance,” Azriel hissed right back at him.

“She is my mate.” Tamlin countered, that rumble deepening in his chest.

“Your bond may speak to her, but her heart will always be mine.” Azriel snapped venom on his tongue, “I was the one to help her with rehabilitation while Rhys threw himself into new high lord duties.”

“You think so?” Tamlin chuckled a dark teasing tone to it as he sneered down at the shadowmaster. “You really think that? That she would belong to you with all your… flaws. Dare I call them that instead of other things.”

Azriel straightened as Tamlin took a few steps around him down the dais like an animal circling its prey; when Tamlin had become high lord the significance of the fact that habits of a predatorial beast carried over into his regular fae form from his beast form and stuck with him more and more as the years went by and he let the savagery take hold of him, as much as he had tried to lessen the evidence of that fact some habits stuck and he couldn’t unlearn them permanently having just become instinctual.

Tamlin hissed as he circled behind Azriel and back up the stairs of the dais. “Look at you, indebted to your high lord for pitying you, a cruel torturer who makes up for the abuse he suffered in his childhood by taking it out on those his highlord orders him to torture for information, it’s almost pitiful. Answer me boy, Shall we settle this with a blood duel? Let fate and the mother guide us here and let the cauldron take the hindmost?”

Azriel tensed at the turn of phrase, he recognized it from the human/fae war as something that was said to keep armies moving together at the same pace. ‘Cauldron take the hindmost’ it sickened him to hear it again a wish for the cauldron to enact its will on any who fell behind and could not support the cause, yet it enlightened Azriel to the fact Tamlin viewed this as a declaration of war.

Azriel scoffed, Hazel eyes sharpening on the beast like emerald ones in front of him. “Look at me? No. Look at you, a foul beast, traitorous, unlovable, who hurts anyone who gets close to him because he is an unworthy feral beast of a high lord who was never supposed to even inherit the title he was given. Call the stakes then, I’ll partake. May the Cauldron take the hindmost.”

Azriel and Tamlincould hear the audible gasps and disappointed sighs around them but were too focused on one another as Azriel climbed a couple steps to stand toe to toe with Tamlin.

Tamlin, brushed the mask from his face tossing it to the dark high lord who fumbled trying to catch it all of a sudden. “Then we shall duel tonight, for the hand of the Princess of the Night Court.”

Azriel and Tamlin were getting snippy back and forth, yet Azriel nodded. “Tonight is fine. Draw the line.”

Tamlin tilted his head in a cocky manner, taunting the raven haired illyrian. “Is she yours or mine? You’ll lose tonight.”

Azriel hissed back. “I won’t lose.”

Tamlin puffed his chest out a mimic to the illyrian’s earlier wing posturing. “If you lose, you leave her be, you will never speak to her again and we will leave from here she may speak to anyone else from the night court but not you.”

Azriel agreed yet again, “Fine! And if I don’t? If I win?”

Tamlin scoffed. “The opposite will apply to me, i’ll never speak to her again and will close off the bond. I will never step foot in this court again unless strictly on business with Rhysand.”

Azriel nodded, stalking to the far side of the platform and stripping any excess accessories from his figure so they wouldn't get in the way during the fight, at least it wasn’t to the death like blood duel’s had a tendency to be. “Then let’s begin.”

Tamlin moved to shake Azriel’s hand after discarding the eccentric cape and accent pieces, signifying the rules being set in place. Both men nodded with the agreed upon statement of “May the Cauldron take the hindmost.”

Tamlin went to step away, to move to his side of the platform, looking to Rhys to signify he was to be the mediator here, but as Rhys began climbing the stairs Azriel snapped, pulling Tamlin to him with a low warning hiss. “You think fate is in your favor? You think you are in control just because of a damned mating bond? You can't cheat on this one even if you tried.”

Tamlin countered with a growl, more calm and collected than the other male. “This duel,” He scoffed. “All the rules have been rearranged, every move is riskier.”

Azriel pushed him away and rolled his shoulders, shaking out the aggravated nerves in his body with a quick stretch of his wings before they settled back against his back in a tense manner. “I will gladly bet against the bond, fuck it I’d even double down. Fate has redesigned itself before.” He had raised his voice, gesturing to Feyre.

Tamlin simply took a deep breath, letting Rhys come to stand in between them in the center of the platform as he moved to take the waistcoat off as well and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Fate is on my side, it led me to her long ago and has always continued to do so. It will do so again today.”

Azriel was getting frazzled at the blonde's simple and collected exterior. “ I’ll wager that when this duel is done, I’ll have won her from you then.”

Tamlin snapped dismissively over his shoulder as he turned back to face the male across the room from him and nodded towards Rhys. “Either way.”

Rhys looked to Azriel who gave him a frantic nod, Rhys sighed as he rolled his shoulders back and spoke loud enough for the crowd to here him. “May the Cauldron take the hindmost.”

Both males lurched forward as Rhys stepped back to let fists fly at each other, eventually Azriel had Tamlin pinned to the ground with his knees either side of the blonde’s ribcage and trying to barrel down on the blonde’s face though many attempts failed and collided with the stone and tile floor leaving his fists a bloody mess.

“Her heart belongs to me. The engagement has secured that.” Azriel had yelled only to be stunned by Tamlin’s cocky smug smile.

“Are you sure?” Tamlin had flicked his tongue over his busted lip with a cocky laugh and a knowing smile plastered on his face.

“What?” Azriel had faltered.

“Are you so sure?” Tamlin reiterated, slowing down his speech mockingly as he held Azriel’s wrists who struggled to reel back to throw another punch at the blonde.

“What do you mean?” Azriel's question was quick and clipped as if thrown off by Tamlin’s prideful ego in his questioning of Azriel and the lord’s mates bond.

Tamlin was quick to flip them, pinning Azriel under him the same way they had just been only with Azriel’s hands pinned under Tamlin’s knees. The blonde leaned back a smirk on his face as he pointed towards the girl curled into Rhys’s side, she could tell Tamlin was pulling punches, he knew he had won even before offering the duel, he could see it in her eyes and feel it in the bond.

Tamlin leaned down to grab Azriel by the collar. “The necklace that she wears, such a design is strange to see, wouldn't you agree? The color isn’t a standard one used in this court, it's representative of something else, of someone else that isn't you. Isn’t the color of your siphons and that you choose to represent yourself with a dark blue? That's a far stretch from green isn’t it?”

“No-” Azriel had started a snarl on his lips. “Rhys gave her that.”

Tamlin snarled back with a smirk. “He gave her that for me, the night we both became High Lords an unspoken promise between us solidified in the emerald she wears around her neck. Doubt yourself now boy, If I wasn’t worried about her being upset I’d have had this duel be for your life.”

Both males snarled at one another in the face of truth, yet it was Azriel who continued to taunt Tamlin even though he couldn’t get out from under the Spring lord. “I call your bluff and we will see who wins out once and for all.”

Both of them growling in eachothers faces. “He who wins, wins it all.”

Yet it was Tamlin who slammed Azriel’s head back against the tile floor by ravenette’s throat and hissed lowly “May the Cauldron take the hindmost.”

It was then as Azriel struggled to breath under the blonde’s grasp that the female the entire fight was over rushed forward. “Stop! Stop it both of you!”

Tamlin sighed, smiling and released the Illyrian’s throat as his wings thrashed beneath them both. Tamlin moved off of the illyrian, staying on his knees with his hair a mess and back straight as he looked up at her, an adoring look on his face as he caught his breath. Azriel rolled onto his stomach and into a push up as he coughed and tried to regulate his breathing head weakly lifting to watch her take Tamlin’s face into her hands.

Tamlin’s eyes sparkled as she cupped his face. “The duel in your honor has pleased you then?”

She smiled and laughed, “You always were a show off who was eager to please.” Before leaning down to pull him into a kiss.

“I’ve missed you, you asshole, making me wait so long I feared you had given up and moved on.”She chastised him.

“I could never truly do that, you are my only, you should know that my dear.” Tamlin crooned back trying to lull her to lean forward and give him another kiss, when she relented he hissed as the adrenaline wore off and the busted part of his lip stung.

She sighed running her finger over the clotting blood, watching as his brows furrowed for a split second before his magic started kicking in to heal the cut. She hummed softly, “Stand and we will leave to get you cleaned up.”

She offered a nod to Rhys who was checking on the defeated Illyrian on the ground, Rhys nodded back at her as he patted the coughing male's shoulder and back. Tamlin had rose wobbly to his feet, chest still heaving as she placed her palm to his chest an unspoken sentence asking for just a moment; Tamlin nodded and she stepped away and pulled a second necklace from its hiding spot below the neckline of her dress, slipping it off the small silver ring inlaid with the blue cobalt stone dangled on the chain and she hung it around the illyrians neck with an apologetic smile. The illyrian let a sob wrack his body and Rhys offered her a sad smile, knowing what he was about to say would probably hurt his brother more but Rhys knew the seriousness of this situation, he would be discussing matters of a wedding and a mating bond with the blond soon enough.

His eyes flicked over to Tamlin, who now had a worried Lucien rushing to his side. “You may both stay here for the night, come the morning we will discuss matters of your mateship and wedding, the town house is yours for the night and the rest of us will be at the river estate if you need us.”

The high lord had since tucked the female into his side, Lucien standing on edge with the waistcoat, cape, and mask in his arms, offering them to Tamlin Lucien dismissed himself. “I’ll be at my apartment then.” before he was trailing off down the hall to a winnow safe room.

Rhys made a gesture for the two to leave and she nodded, pulling Tamlin down the hall Lucien had disappeared into just a few seconds ago, pulling him into a small circular room the inner circle used to flit in and out of the court of nightmares. The chilly night air nipped at her collarbone and shoulders as she rushed him into the townhouse that her family rarely used anymore. Neither spoke a word, both nervous and on the edge as she ushered him through the door once the wards had unlocked to let them pass.

Dim faelights lit the house in a soft yellow light fitting for the time of night, Tamlin stayed close behind her as she stepped into the memory filled living room and ran her fingers nervously over the carved wooden backing of the couch but stilled in the doorway to observe the silent house littered with some of Feyre’s paintings; taking a sharp breath she turned to look at Tamlin with a pleading look. Tamlin smiled back at her taking a few steps to close the distance, cupping her face in his hands for a change he pressed his forehead against hers and let his eyes flutter closed simply appreciating her presence.

“I can’t cook for you since we should wait till we make it to Spring to-” She had started rambling nerves getting the best of her, yet Tamlin simply hushed her with a kiss.

“I’m not worried about that right now love, It's been hundreds of years since I have simply got to appreciate you, your presence, your very being. Let me simply hold you like this for a minute.” He sighed letting his shoulders sag as any and all tension left his body. “Plus I had plenty to eat at the ball, so I'm not really hungry, rather exhausted actually.”

She nodded quickly pulling him close to her to rest his head in the crook of her neck and let him pin her against the back of the couch, the sentiment was there but it caused Tamlin’s nostrils to flare, his pupils to find themselves in a slit like state, and a growl at the back of his throat. “You still smell like him, as much as I’d love to continue this I need to scrub his scent from your body before I lose my composure, well any I still have at least.”

She straightened her back, a mix of aroused and startled at his possessiveness over her. “There's a bathing room attached to my room if you wish to follow me up the stairs then.”

He nodded, taking a slow step backwards to let her move freely towards the stairs, instead she entwined her fingers with his own and pulled him up the stairs behind her. Towards the end of the hall of doors was a door decorated in decorative ivy and faelights, she stopped to push the decorated door open and smiled as the faelights flickered to life within her room. The room Tamlin realized was decorated like how Rosehall used to look, oak walls a contrast to the normal darker wood if not stone walls that were normal in the Night Court, dark emerald green curtains covered the door to the balcony with more of the false ivy and dangling soft lights. Emerald Green seemed to be the frequent accent color in the room, the silk sheets topped with golden furs, the curtains, a throw blanket over a loveseat in the corner, even a rug on the floor was reminiscent of his court and Rosehall.

Tamlin’s brows furrowed as she moved to toss the silk shrug style stole onto the small loveseat. “You made it look… It looks like the old Rosehall?”

His eyes that had been scouring the room fell to her figure that was pushing through a door into the attached bathing chambers, they stilled at the sight of the deep scars visible due to the open back of her dress.

“Yes, I did, it just felt right. Some memory of that place before the darkness touched it needed to be preserved.” She smiled at him in the mirror as she wiped away the kohl lining her eyes.

Tamlin’s steps felt heavy as he took a few steps forward as his calloused hands fell to the small of her back and his head dipped to press his forehead between her shoulders sighing as his voice came out a weak whisper. “You are too good for me, you know that right?”

The tender touch to her back had caught her off guard, her breath hitching as his head came to rest against her. “Tam-”

He sighed, his breath brushing against the sunken scars on her back and finding her eyes on him he offered a mischievous glance from behind her shoulder. “I mean it Starlight and,” He leaned back down to pepper kisses across the indentions. “I will spend every day of the rest of our lives making it up to you.”

She turned around in his hold, pulling him down for an actual kiss; he smiled through it before sighing as he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers. “Don’t try and distract me here! I mean it and I intend to start with that promise tonight.”

Her brows furrowed in a teasing and playful manner she scolded him. “Tamlin!”

He chuckled as he scowled at her. “Not like that silly girl,” He stopped for a split second to consider his words. “Okay, perhaps like that but I should first ask if you've any body lotions. I intend to offer a massage first and then mayhaps I’ll make my downfalls up to you by devouring you for a few hours.”

#acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #azriel acotar #tamlin x reader #tamlin acotar #azriel shadowsinger x reader #mor x elain #rhysand

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shitwillnotbegiven · 4 months

Text

All of Elain mentions in Acosf 🌸

True hell, because that was Elain lying on the stone floor with the red-haired, one-eyed Fae male hovering over her. Because those were pointed ears poking through her sister’s sodden gold-brown hair, and an immortal glow radiating from Elain’s fair skin.

***

And the sound of that voice, the voice of the male who had done this to Elain …

***

The King of Hybern—he had done this. To Elain. To Cassian.

***

The Cauldron struggled like a bird under a cat’s paw. She refused to relent.

Everything it had stolen from her, from Elain, she would take from it.

***

Prologue

🌸

He sketched a bow, not daring to take his eyes off her. She’d emerged from the Cauldron with … gifts. Considerable gifts—dark ones. But no one had seen nor felt any sign of them since that last battle with Hybern, since Amren had shattered the Cauldron and Feyre and Rhys had managed to heal it. Elain, too, had revealed no indication of her seer’s abilities since then.

***

Feyre and Elain had tried to convince her to move. She’d always ignored their advice. Just as she’d ignore whatever was said today. She knew Feyre planned a scolding. Perhaps something to do with the fact that Nesta had signed last night’s outrageous tab at the tavern to her sister’s bank account.

***

It was the King of Hybern’s fault. She knew that. But it was hers, too. Just as it was her fault that Elain had been captured by the Cauldron after Nesta spied on it with that scrying, her fault that Hybern had done such terrible things to hunt her and her sister down like a deer.

***

Cassian held her gaze as he stalked for her, then reached out an arm—

And plucked the cerulean-and-cream scarf Elain had given her for her birthday this spring off the hook on the wall. He gripped it in his fist, dangling it like a strangled snake as he brushed past her.

***

Even their gods-damned father had a portrait on the wall along one side of the grand staircase: him and Elain, smiling and happy, as they’d been before the world went to shit. Sitting on a stone bench amid bushes bursting with pink and blue hydrangea. The formal gardens of their first home, that lovely manor near the sea. Nesta and their mother were nowhere in sight.

That was how it had been, after all: Elain and Feyre doted on by their father. Nesta prized and trained by their mother.

***

Like Nesta, Amren did not possess court-specific magic related to the High Fae. It didn’t make her influence in this court any less mighty. Nesta’s own High Fae powers had never materialized—she had only what she’d taken from the Cauldron, rather than letting it deign to gift her with power, as it had with Elain. She had no idea what she’d ripped from the Cauldron while it had stolen her humanity from her—but she knew they were things she did not and would never wish to understand, to master. The very thought had her stomach churning.

***

Where the hell was Elain?

***

Chapter 1

🌸

Rhys had laid a comforting hand on Feyre’s, squeezing gently before he looked at Azriel, and then Cassian, and laid out his plan. As if he’d had it waiting a long, long while.

Elain had walked in halfway through. She’d been toiling in the estate gardens since dawn, and had been solemn as Rhys filled her in. Feyre had been unable to say a word. But Elain’s gaze remained steady as she listened to Rhys.

***

Amren had suggested a few days in a dungeon in the Hewn City, but Feyre had simply said that the human world would be more than enough of a prison for someone like Nesta.

Someone like Feyre, too. And Elain.

All three sisters were now High Fae with considerable powers, though only Feyre’s were let loose. Even Amren had no idea whether Elain’s and Nesta’s powers remained. The Cauldron had granted them unique powers, different from other High Fae: the gift of sight to the former, and the gift of … Cassian didn’t know what to call Nesta’s gift. Didn’t know whether it was a gift at all—or something she had taken. The silver fire, that sense of death looming, the raw power he’d witnessed as it blasted into the King of Hybern. Whatever it was, it existed beyond the usual array of High Fae gifts.

***

“Elain needs to be able to see me—”

“Elain agreed to this hours ago. She’s currently packing your things. They’ll be waiting for you when you arrive.”

Nesta recoiled.

Feyre didn’t relent. “Elain knows how to contact you. If she wishes to visit you at the House of Wind, she is free to do so. One of us will gladly take her up there.”

***

Feyre toyed with her silver-and-star-sapphire wedding ring. “I told you: it wasn’t that I didn’t care. We—everyone, I mean—had multiple conversations about this. About you. We— I decided that giving you time and space would be best.”

“And what did Elain have to say about it?” Part of her didn’t want to know.

Feyre’s mouth tightened. “This isn’t about Elain. And last I checked, you barely saw her, either.”

Nesta hadn’t realized they were paying such close attention.

She’d never explained to Feyre—had never found the words to explain—why she’d put such distance between them all. Elain had been stolen by the Cauldron and saved by Azriel and Feyre. Yet the terror still gripped Nesta, waking and asleep: the memory of how it had felt in those moments after hearing the Cauldron’s seductive call and realizing it had been for Elain, not for her or Feyre. How it had felt to find Elain’s tent empty, to see that blue cloak discarded.

Things had only gotten worse from there.

You have your lives, and I have mine, she’d said to Elain last Winter Solstice. She’d known how deeply it would wound her sister. But she couldn’t bear it—the bone-deep horror that lingered. The flashes of that discarded cloak or the Cauldron’s chill waters or Cassian crawling toward her or her father’s neck snapping—

Feyre said carefully, “For what it’s worth, I was hoping you’d turn yourself around. I wanted to give you space to do it, since you seem to lash out at everyone who comes close enough, but you didn’t even try.”

***

“The others are waiting,” Feyre said. “Elain should be done by now.”

“I want to talk to her.”

“She’ll come visit when she’s ready.”

Nesta held her sister’s stare.

Feyre’s eyes gleamed. “You think I don’t know why you’ve pushed even Elain away?”

Nesta didn’t want to talk about it. About the fact that it had always been her and Elain. And, somehow, now it had become Feyre and Elain instead. Elain had chosen Feyre and these people, and left her behind. Amren had done the same. She’d made it clear on the barge.

Nesta didn’t care that during the war with Hybern, her own tentative bond had formed with Feyre, forged over common goals: protect Elain, save the human lands. They were excuses, Nesta had realized, to paper over what now boiled and raged in her heart.

Nesta didn’t bother replying, and Feyre didn’t speak again as she departed.

There was nothing to bind them together anymore.

***

Chapter 2

🌸

“Did you keep those fighting leathers from the war?” Cassian said to Nesta by way of greeting as he stalked into the entry hall. “You’ll need them tomorrow.”

“I made sure Elain packed them for her,” Feyre replied from her perch on the stairs, not looking at her stiff-backed sister standing at their base. He wondered if his High Lady had noticed the disappearing servants yet.

***

Nesta shoved out of his grip the moment her feet hit the worn stones. Cassian let her, folding his wings and lingering by the rail, all of Velaris glittering below and beyond him.

She’d spent weeks here last year—during that terrible period after being turned Fae, begging Elain to demonstrate any sign of wanting to live. She’d barely slept for fear of Elain walking off this veranda, or leaning too far out of one of the countless windows, or simply throwing herself down those ten thousand stairs.

***

She wouldn’t have cared where she stayed, except for the convenience of the small, private library also on her level. Which had been the place where she’d discovered those smutty books, as Cassian called them. She’d devoured a few dozen of them during those weeks she’d first been here, desperate for any lifeline to keep her from falling apart, from bellowing at what had been done to her body, her life—to Elain. Elain, who would not eat, or speak, or do anything at all.

Elain, who had somehow become the adjusted one.

***

She had nowhere to go. Elain, mourn as she might for the life she would have had with Graysen, had found a place, a role here. Tending to the gardens of Feyre’s veritable palace on the river, helping other residents of Velaris restore their own destroyed gardens—she had purpose, and joy, and friends: those two half-wraiths who worked in Rhysand’s household. But those things had always come easily to her sister. Had always made Elain special.

Had made Nesta fight like hell to keep Elain safe at all costs.

***

It wasn’t until the sound faded completely that she took in the room before her, unchanged since she’d last been in it, the connecting door to Elain’s old suite now sealed shut.

***

Chapter 3

🌸

Mor took another bite from her pastry. “Lucien can’t be entirely trusted anymore.”

Cassian started. “What?”

“Even with Elain here, he’s become close with Jurian and Vassa. He’s voluntarily living with them these days, and not just as an emissary. As their friend.”

***

My Nesta. Elain shall wed for love and beauty, but you, my cunning little queen … You shall wed for conquest.

***

Chapter 4

🌸

A brutish male face grinning as he anticipated the trophy that would be pulled forth—

She couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t save Elain, sobbing on the floor. Couldn’t save herself. No one was coming to rescue her, and these males would do what they wanted, and her body was not her own, not human—not for much longer—

***

Chapter 6

🌸

“No healer can repair them?”

Her face tightened, and Nesta regretted her question. “It is extremely complex—all the connecting muscles and nerves and senses. Short of the High Lord of Dawn, I’m not certain anyone could handle it.” Thesan, Nesta recalled, was a master of healing—Feyre bore his power in her veins. Had offered to use it to heal Elain from her stupor after being turned High Fae.

Nesta blocked out the memory of that pale face, the empty brown eyes.

***

Chapter 9

🌸

Elain had been stolen. By Hybern. By the Cauldron, which had seen Nesta watching it and watched her in turn. Had noted her scrying with bones and stones and made her regret it.

She had done this. Brought this upon them. Touching her power, wielding it, had done this, and she would never forgive herself, never—

Elain would surely be tormented, ripped apart body and soul.

***

Chapter 10

🌸

“I don’t understand why you two can’t just …” He struggled for the right word.

“Get along? Be civil? Smile at each other?” Feyre’s laugh was hollow. “It’s always been that way.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea. I mean, it was always that way with us, and our mother. She only had an interest in Nesta. She ignored me, and saw Elain as barely more than a doll to dress up, but Nesta was hers. Our mother made sure we knew it. Or she just cared so little what we thought or did that she didn’t bother to hide it from us.” Resentment and long-held pain laced every word. That a mother would do such a thing to her children … “But when we fell into poverty, when I started hunting, it got worse. Our mother was gone, and our father wasn’t exactly present. He wasn’t fully there. So it was me and Nesta, always at each other’s throats.” Feyre rubbed her face. “I’m too exhausted to go over every detail. It’s all just a tangled mess.”

***

Chapter 11

🌸

“I took dancing lessons as a girl.”

“Really?”

“We weren’t always poor. Until I was fourteen, my father was as rich as a king. They called him the Prince of Merchants.”

He gave her a tentative smile. “And you were his princess?”

Ice cracked through her. “No. Elain was his princess. Even Feyre was more his princess than I ever was.”

***

Chapter 14

🌸

“My other sister, Elain—we were forced into the Cauldron and turned High Fae.” Nesta swallowed again. “It … imparted some of itself to me.”

***

Chapter 15

🌸

At night, exhaustion weighed so heavily she could barely eat and bathe before tumbling into bed. Barely read a chapter of a book before her eyelids drooped. She’d found a smutty novel she’d already read and loved in one of the trunks Elain had packed, and had laid it on the desk.

***

Elain was in the private library.

Nesta knew it before she’d cleared the stairs, covered in dust from the library.

Her sister’s delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring, a sparkling river that she followed to the open doors of the chamber.

Elain stood at the wall of windows, clad in a lilac gown whose close-fitting bodice showed how well her sister had filled out since those initial days in the Night Court. Gone were the sharp angles, replaced by softness and elegant curves. Nesta knew she herself had looked like that at one point, even if Elain’s breasts had always been smaller.

She peered down at herself, bony and gangly. Her sister turned toward her, glowing with health.

Elain’s smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows. “I thought I’d drop by to see how you were doing.”

Someone had brought Elain here, since there was no way in hell she had climbed those ten thousand steps.

Nesta didn’t return her sister’s smile, but rather gestured to her body, the leathers, the dust. “I’ve been busy.”

“You look a little better than you did a few weeks ago.”

The last time she’d seen Elain—a week before she’d come to the House. She’d passed her sister in the bustling market square they called the Palace of Bone and Salt, and though Elain had halted, no doubt intending to speak to her, Nesta had kept walking. Hadn’t looked back before vanishing into the throng. Nesta didn’t wish to consider how poorly she’d looked then, if the picture she presented now was better.

“You’ve got good coloring, I mean,” Elain clarified, striding from the windows to cross the room. She stopped a few feet away. As if holding herself back from the embrace she might have given.

Like Nesta was some sort of disease-ridden leper.

How many times had they been in this room during those initial months? How many times had it been this way, only with their positions switched? Elain had been the ghost then, too thin, with her thoughts turned inward.

Somehow, Nesta had become the ghost.

Worse than a ghost. A wraith, whose rage and hunger were bottomless, eternal.

Elain had only needed time to adjust. But Nesta knew she herself needed more than that.

“Are you enjoying your time up here?”

Nesta met her sister’s warm brown eyes. When human, Elain had easily been the prettiest of the three of them, and when she’d been turned High Fae, that beauty had been amplified. Nesta couldn’t put her finger on what changes had been wrought beyond the pointed ears, but Elain had gone from lovely to devastatingly beautiful. Elain never seemed to realize it.

It was always that way between them: Elain, sweet and oblivious, and Nesta, the snarling wolf at her side, poised to shred anyone who threatened her.

Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. She will be an asset on the marriage market for us one day, if that beauty holds, but it will be our own maneuverings, Nesta, not hers, that win us an advantageous match.

Nesta had been twelve at the time. Elain barely eleven.

She’d absorbed every word of her mother’s scheming, plans for futures that had never come to pass.

We shall have to petition your father to go to the continent when the time is right, her mother had often said. There are no men here worthy of either of you. Feyre hadn’t even been considered at that point, a sullen, strange child whom her mother ignored. Human royalty rules there still—lords and dukes and princes—but their wealth is tapped out, many of their estates nearing ruin. Two beautiful ladies with a king’s fortune could go far.

I might marry a prince? Nesta had asked. Her mother had only smiled.

Nesta shook her head clear of the memories and said at last, “I don’t have any choice but to be here, so I don’t see how I could be enjoying myself.”

Elain wrung her slender fingers, nails kept trimmed short for her work in the gardens. “I know the circumstances for your coming here were awful, Nesta, but it doesn’t mean you need to be so miserable about it.”

“I sat by your side for weeks,” Nesta said flatly. “Weeks, while you wasted away, refusing food and drink. While you appeared to hope you’d just wither and die.”

Elain flinched. But Nesta couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. “No one suggested you either shape up or be shipped back to the human lands.”

Elain, surprisingly, held her ground. “I wasn’t drinking myself into oblivion and—and doing those other things.”

“Fucking strangers?”

Elain flinched again, her face coloring.

Nesta snorted. “You’re living amongst beings who have none of our human primness, you know.” Elain squared her shoulders again, just as Nesta added, “It’s not like you and Graysen didn’t act on your feelings.”

It was a low blow, but Nesta didn’t care. She knew Elain had given her maidenhead to Graysen a month before they’d been turned Fae. Elain had been glowing the next morning.

Elain cocked her head. Didn’t dissolve into the crying mess she usually became when Graysen came up. Instead she said, “You’re angry with me.”

Fine, then. She could be direct, too. Nesta shot back, “For packing my things while Rhysand and Feyre told me I’m a worthless pile of shit? Yes.”

Elain crossed her arms and said calmly, sadly, “Feyre warned me this might happen.”

The words struck Nesta like a slap. They’d spoken of her, her behavior, her attitude. Elain and Feyre—that was the new status of things. The bond Elain had chosen.

It was inevitable, Nesta supposed, stomach churning. She was the monster. Why shouldn’t the two of them band together and shove her out? Even if she’d foolishly believed that Elain had always seen every horrible part of her and decided to stick by her anyway.

“I still wanted to come,” Elain went on with that focused calm, the quiet steel building in her voice. “I wanted to see you, to explain.”

Elain had chosen Feyre, chosen her perfect little world. Amren hadn’t been any different. Nesta’s spine stiffened. “There is nothing to explain.”

Elain held up her hands. “We did this because we love you.”

“Spare me the bullshit, please.”

Elain stepped closer, brown eyes wide. Undoubtedly wholly convinced of her own innocence, her innate goodness. “It’s the truth. We did this because we love you, and worry for you, and if Father were here—”

“Don’t ever mention him.” Nesta bared her teeth, but kept her voice low. “Never fucking mention him again.”

She forbade her leash to slip completely. But she felt it—the stirring of that terrible beast inside her. Felt its power surge, blazing yet cold. She lunged for it, shoving it down, down, down, but it was too late. Elain’s gasp confirmed that Nesta’s eyes had gone to silver fire, as Cassian had described it.

But Nesta smothered the fire in her darkness, until she was cold and empty and still once more.

Pain slowly washed over Elain’s face. And understanding. “Is that what this is all about? Father?”

Nesta pointed to the door, finger shaking with the effort of keeping that writhing power at bay. Each word from Elain’s mouth threatened to undo her restraint. “Get out.”

Silver lined Elain’s eyes, but her voice remained steady, sure. “There was nothing that could have been done to save him, Nesta.”

The words were kindling. Elain had accepted his death as inevitable. She hadn’t bothered to fight for him, as if he hadn’t been worth the effort, precisely as Nesta knew she herself wasn’t worth the effort.

This time, Nesta didn’t stop the power from shining in her eyes; she shook so violently she had to fist her hands. “You tell yourself there’s nothing that could have been done because it’s unbearable to think that you could have saved him, if you’d only deigned to show up a few minutes earlier.” The lie was bitter in her mouth.

It wasn’t Elain’s fault their father had died. No, that was entirely Nesta’s own fault. But if Elain was so determined to root out the good in her, then she’d show her sister how ugly she could be. Let a fraction of this agony rip into her.

This was why Elain had chosen Feyre. This.

Feyre had rescued Elain time and again. But Nesta had sat by, armed only with her viper’s tongue. Sat by while they starved. Sat by when Hybern stole them away and shoved them into the Cauldron. Sat by when Elain had been kidnapped. And when their father had been in Hybern’s grip, she had done nothing, nothing to save him, either. Fear had frozen her, blanketing her mind, and she’d let it do so, let it master her, so that by the time her father’s neck had snapped, it had been too late. And entirely her fault.

Why wouldn’t Elain choose Feyre?

Elain stiffened, but refused to balk from whatever she beheld in Nesta’s gaze. “You think I’m to blame for his death?” Challenge filled each word. Challenge—from Elain, of all people. “No one but the King of Hybern is to blame for that.” The quaver in her voice belied her firm words.

Nesta knew she’d hit her mark. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t continue. Enough. She had said enough.

That fast, the power in her receded, vanishing into smoke on the wind. Leaving only exhaustion weighing her bones, her breath. “It doesn’t matter what I think. Go back to Feyre and your little garden.”

Even during their squabbles in the cottage, fighting over who got clothes or boots or ribbons, it had never been like this. Those fights had been petty, born of misery and discomfort. This was a different beast entirely, from a place as dark as the gloom at the base of the library.

Elain headed for the doors, purple dress sweeping behind her. “Cassian said he thought the training was helping,” she murmured, more to herself than to Nesta.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Nesta slammed the doors so hard they rattled.

Silence filled the room.

She didn’t twist toward the windows to see who might fly past with Elain, who’d be witness to the tears Elain would likely shed.

Nesta slid into one of the armchairs before the unlit fireplace and stared at nothing.

She didn’t stop the wolves when they gathered around her again, hateful, razor-sharp truths on their red tongues. She didn’t stop them as they began to rend her apart.

***

When Elain burst into the dining room of the House, Cassian and Rhys were shaking off the frigid air that had been howling through Windhaven.

Her brown eyes were bright with tears, but she kept her chin high.

“I want to go home,” she said, voice wobbling slightly.

***

Cassian cast the memory aside as Rhys surveyed Elain, his violet-blue eyes missing nothing. “What happened.”

When Rhys spoke like that, it was more of a command than a question.

Elain waved a hand in dismissal before flinging open the veranda doors and striding into the open air.

“Elain,” Rhys said as he and Cassian trailed her into the dying light.

Elain stood by the rail, the breeze caressing her hair. “She’s not getting any better. She’s not even trying.” She wrapped her arms around herself and stared toward the distant sea.

Rhys turned to him, his face grave. Feyre warned her.

Cassian swore softly. Nesta is making progress—I know she is. Something set her off. He added, because Rhys was still looking like cold death personified, It’ll take time. Maybe no more visits from her sisters, for the time being. At least not without her permission. He didn’t want to isolate Nesta. Not at all. If Elain wants to see her again, let me ask Nesta first.

***

Rhys held his stare, the inherent dominance in it like the force of a tidal wave. But Cassian weathered it. Let it wash past him. Then Rhys shook his head and said to Elain, “I’ll fly you home.”

Elain didn’t object when Rhys scooped her up and launched into the red-and-pink-stained sky.

When they were a speck of black and purple over the rooftops, Rhys sweeping along the gilded river as if giving Elain a scenic tour, then and only then did Cassian enter the House.

***

His heart thundered, his chest heaving as if he’d run a mile. “What did you say to Elain?”

She leaned forward to peer at him. Then rose to her feet, a pillar of steel and flame, her lips curling back from her teeth. “Of course you’d assume I’m the one at fault.” She prowled closer, her eyes burning with cold fire. “Always defending sweet, innocent Elain.”

He crossed his arms, letting her get as close to him as she wanted. Like hell would he yield one step to her. “I’ll remind you that you’ve been the chief defender of sweet, innocent Elain until recently.” He’d witnessed her go toe to toe with Fae capable of slaughtering her without giving it a thought, all for her sister.

***

Chapter 17

🌸

“What did Elain say to you?”

She couldn’t revisit that conversation, couldn’t talk about her father or his death or any of it. So she shut her heavy eyes. “Why don’t they sign up for training?”

***

Chapter 18

🌸

Azriel chuckled, shadows skittering. “Did you listen at all last night?”

“No.”

“At least you’re honest.” Azriel smirked. “You and Nesta are wanted down there.”

“Because of the shit with Elain?”

Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. Cassian blew out a breath. “I take that as a no regarding the meeting topic, then.”

“It’s about what I discovered. Rhys said he requires you both there.”

“It’s bad, then.” Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?”

His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him.

Cassian knew it was a lie, but didn’t push it. Az would speak when he was ready, and Cassian would have better success convincing a mountain to move than getting Az to open up.

***

Chapter 19

🌸

Nesta said nothing, unable to speak with the churning in her stomach. Who would be here? Which of them would she have to face, to endure them judging her so-called progress? They’d probably all heard of her fight with Elain—gods, would Elain be present?

***

Rhys and Feyre sat on the sapphire couch before the window. Azriel leaned against the mantel. Amren had curled herself into an armchair, bundled in a gray fur coat, as if the nip in the air today were a blast of winter. No Elain, no Morrigan.

***

“But Briallyn is Made,” Amren said. Nesta’s mouth again went dry. “When Briallyn was Made, it likely removed from her the Dread Trove’s glamour, for lack of a better term. Recognized her as kin. Where she might have glanced over a mention of the items before and never thought twice, now it stuck. Or perhaps called to her, presented itself in a dream.”

All of them, all at once, looked at Nesta.

“You,” Amren said quietly, “are the same. So is Elain.”

***

Cassian shifted in his seat. “So we track down the Dread Trove—how?”

Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.”

***

Chapter 20

🌸

Nesta’s head went silent as Elain’s words finished sounding in the room. Feyre had twisted in her seat, face white with alarm.

Nesta shot to her feet. “No.”

Elain remained in the doorway, her face pale but her expression harder than Nesta had ever seen it. “You do not decide what I can and cannot do, Nesta.”

“The last time we involved ourselves with the Cauldron, it abducted you,” Nesta countered, fighting her shaking. She found the words, the weapons she sought. “I thought you didn’t have powers anymore.”

Elain pursed her lips. “I thought you didn’t, either.”

Nesta’s spine straightened. No one spoke, but their attention lingered on her like a film on her skin. “You will not go looking for it.”

Amren said coolly, “So you look for it, girl.”

Nesta turned to the small female. “I don’t know how to find anything.”

“Like calls to like,” Amren countered. “You were Made by the Cauldron. You may track other objects Made by it as well, as Briallyn can. And because you are Made by it, you are immune to the influence and power of the Trove. You might use them, yes, but they cannot be used upon you.” A glance to Elain. “Either of you.”

Nesta swallowed. “I can’t.” But to let Elain involve herself, jeopardize her safety—

Amren said, “You tracked the Cauldron—”

“It nearly killed me. It trapped me like a bird in a cage.”

Elain said, “Then I will find it. I might require some time to … reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“Then go off on adventures,” Nesta said. “Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron.”

Feyre said, “It is Elain’s choice, Nesta.”

Nesta whirled on her, ignoring the warning flicker of primal wrath in Rhys’s stare. “Keep out of this,” she hissed at her youngest sister. “I have no doubt you put these thoughts in her head, probably encouraging her to throw herself into harm’s way—”

Elain cut in sharply, “I am not a child to be fought over.”

Nesta’s pulse pounded throughout her body. “Do you not remember the war? What we encountered? Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern’s camp?”

“I do,” Elain said coldly. “And I remember Feyre rescuing me.”

Roaring erupted in Nesta’s head.

For a heartbeat, it appeared that Elain might say something to soften the words. But Nesta cut her off, seething at the pity about to be thrown her way. “Look who decided to grow claws after all,” she crooned. “Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.”

Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.

Elain’s eyes brightened with pain. Something imploded in Nesta’s chest at that expression. She opened her mouth, as if it could somehow be undone. But Elain said, “I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”

Nesta blinked, everything inside her hollowing out.

But Elain turned on her heel. “Find me when you wish to begin.” The doors shut behind her.

Every awful word Nesta had spoken hung in the air, echoing.

Feyre said to her, gratingly gentle, “It wasn’t an easy choice for me to ask Elain to endanger herself like this.”

Nesta twisted to Feyre. “Can’t you find the Trove?” She hated each cowardly word, hated the fear in her heart, hated that in merely asking, she’d exposed her preference for Elain.

***

Nesta said to Feyre, “Did you tell Elain?”

Before Feyre could reply, Azriel said, “What about Mor?”

Feyre smiled. “Elain was the only one who guessed. She caught me vomiting two mornings in a row.” She nodded toward Azriel. “I think she’s got you beat for secret-keeping.”

***

Rhys winked at her. Feyre rolled her eyes. But then she said to Nesta, “Elain will need time to dust off her powers to try to See the Trove. But you, Nesta … You could scry again.”

***

“What choice do I have?” Nesta asked.

If it was between her and Elain, there was no choice at all. She would always go first if it meant keeping Elain from harm. Even if she’d just hurt her sister more than she could stomach.

***

“How did he know?”

“I don’t know,” Feyre admitted, her hand again drifting to her stomach. “But I didn’t realize how much I wanted a boy until I knew I’d bear one.”

“Likely because having sisters was so horrible for you.”

Feyre sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

Nesta shrugged. Feyre might say that, but the feeling was no doubt there. Everything that had just happened with Elain—

Feyre seemed to sense the direction of her thoughts. “Elain was right. We’ve become so focused on how her trauma impacted us that we forget she was the one who experienced it.”

“It was directed at me, not you.”

“I’ve been guilty of the same things, Nesta.” Sorrow dimmed Feyre’s eyes. “It was unfair for Elain to level that truth only at you.”

Nesta didn’t have an answer to that, didn’t know where to start. “Why not tell Elain about the baby’s sex first?”

“She discovered the pregnancy. I wanted you to know this part before anyone else.”

***

Chapter 21

🌸

“I hope so,” Cassian hedged. He couldn’t stomach the thought of Nesta putting herself in danger, but he understood her motivations entirely. If he’d had to pick between sending one of his brothers into danger or doing it himself, he would always—always—choose himself. Though he’d winced at every harsh word that had come out of Nesta’s mouth to Elain, he couldn’t fault the fear and love behind her decision. Could only admire that she had stepped up—if not for the good of the world, then to keep her sister safe.

***

“Nesta isn’t up for a scrying,” Cassian said. “We don’t even know what power she has left.”

But Elain had confirmed it for everyone: both sisters still possessed their Cauldron-gifted powers. Whether they were as powerful as before, he had no idea.

“You do know, though,” Azriel countered. “You’ve seen it—even beyond when it glows in her eyes.”

Cassian hadn’t told anyone about the step he’d found with the clear finger holes burned into it. He wondered if Azriel had somehow learned of them, the news brought to him on his shadows’ whispers. “She’s volatile right now. The last time she did a scrying, it ended badly. The Cauldron looked at her. And then took Elain.” He’d seen every horrific memory flash before Nesta’s eyes today. And though he understood that Elain had spoken true, claiming the trauma of that memory, Cassian knew firsthand the lingering horror and pain of a loved one stolen and hurt.

Azriel stiffened. “I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.”

Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.

***

Chapter 22

🌸

Seeing them spar had been overwhelming. Their beautiful forms, tattooed and scarred and carved with muscle, gleaming with sweat as they fought with a viciousness and intelligence she’d never seen … She’d been sweating herself when they’d finished, wondering what it’d be like to be between those two male bodies, letting them turn all that lethal attention on worshipping her.

Elain would faint to hear such thoughts. And to hear that Nesta had already had two males in her bed not once but twice, and had enjoyed every second of it. But the males Nesta had shared herself with hadn’t looked like Cassian and Azriel. Hadn’t been Cassian and Azriel.

***

Chapter 24

🌸

Nesta had only felt relief when the old beast had died. Elain, who’d been spared the cruelties of Grandmamma’s tutelage, had wept and dutifully laid flowers at her grave—one soon joined by their mother’s stone marker. Feyre had been too young to understand, but Nesta had never bothered to lay flowers for her grandmamma. Not when Nesta bore a scar near her left thumb from one of the woman’s nastier punishments. Nesta had only left flowers for her mother, whose grave she had visited more often than she cared to admit.

***

Nesta had told herself that day that Tomas would take her in, if necessary. Maybe even Elain, too. But his family had been hateful, with too many mouths to feed already. His father would have refused to feed her, without question. She’d been prepared to offer the only thing she had to barter to Tomas, if it would have kept Elain from starving. Would have sold her body on the street to anyone who’d pay her enough to feed her sister. Her body had meant nothing to her—nothing, she’d told herself as she’d felt her options closing in. Elain meant everything.

***

“I always forget how similar human ideas of propriety are to the Illyrians’.” Emerie took another bite. “Would you have wanted to see the world, if you could?”

“It was half a world, wasn’t it? With the wall in place.”

“Still better than nothing.”

Nesta chuckled. “You’re right.” She considered Emerie’s question. If her father had offered to bring them on one of his ships, to let them see strange and distant shores, would they have gone? Elain had always wanted to visit the continent to study the tulips and other famed flowers, but her imagination had stretched no further. Feyre had talked once about the glorious art in the continent’s museums and private estates. But that was all the western edge of it. Beyond that, the continent was vast. And to the south, another continent sprawled. Would she have gone?

***

Chapter 25

🌸

Nesta around Gwyn was a wholly different creature than who she was with the court. They didn’t tease or laugh with each other, but an easiness lay between them that he’d never witnessed, even when Nesta was with Elain. She’d always been Elain’s guardian, or Feyre’s sister, or Cauldron-Made.

***

Chapter 27

🌸

“Bad things happened the last time. The Cauldron looked at me. And took Elain.” She couldn’t stop her body from locking up. “I can’t endure it, risk it. Not even for this.”

***

“Helion is a last resort,” Rhys said, sipping his wine. “Which we may come to in a matter of days if Nesta does not at least attempt a scrying.” The last words were directed toward Cassian. “I’d have Elain try her hand before we approach him, though.”

Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie’s garden. Cassian didn’t exactly know why he suspected this wasn’t true. There had been some tightness in Elain’s face as she’d said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around, but the male remained in the human lands with Jurian and Vassa.

***

Cassian countered, “Nesta will do it, if only to keep Elain from putting herself at risk. But you have to understand that Nesta was deeply affected by what happened during the war—Elain was taken by the Cauldron after she scried. You can’t blame her for hesitating.”

Amren said, “We do not have the time to wait for Nesta to decide. I say we approach Elain tomorrow. Better to have both of them working on it.”

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

“But Nesta should?” Cassian growled.

Everyone stared at him.

He swallowed, offering an apologetic glance to Az, who shrugged it off.

Amren drained her wine and said to Cassian, “Nesta has a week. One more week to find the Trove with her own methods. Then we seek out other routes.” She threw a nod toward Azriel. “Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.”

Cassian and Azriel looked to Rhys, who merely sipped from his own wine. Amren’s order held. As Rhys’s Second in this court, short of Rhys overruling her, her word was law.

Cassian glowered at Amren. “It’s not right to wield Elain as a threat to manipulate Nesta into scrying.”

“There are harsher ways to convince Nesta, boy.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair. “You’re a fool if you think threats will make her obey you.”

Everyone tensed again. Even Varian.

Amren’s lips spread in a sharp grin. “We are on the cusp of another war. We let the Cauldron slip from our hands in the last one and it nearly cost us everything.” Amren’s new Fae form was proof of that—she’d yielded her immortal, otherworldly self to remain in this body. No gray fire glowed in her eyes. She was mortal, in the way that High Fae were mortal. Varian’s fingers tangled in the blunt ends of her hair, as if to reassure himself that she was here, she’d remained with him. “We must head off this potential disaster before we lose the advantage. If we need to manipulate Nesta into scrying, even by using Elain against her, then we’ll do what is necessary.”

His stomach tightened. “I don’t like it.”

***

She’d failed at everything. But she could do this.

She’d failed her father, failed Feyre for years before that. Failed her mother, she supposed. And with Elain, she’d failed as well: first in letting her get taken by Hybern that night they’d been stolen from their beds; then by letting her go into that Cauldron. Then when the Cauldron had taken her into the heart of Hybern’s camp.

“You don’t have to like it,” Amren said. “You just have to shut up and do as you’re told.”

***

Chapter 29

🌸

Nesta said, “The Trove. And what happened the last time I scried.”

Feyre said, “We won’t allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times.”

“Eyes can be blinded,” Nesta said.

“Not the ones under my command,” Azriel said with soft menace. Nesta met his stare, knowing he was the only one aside from Feyre who could truly understand her hesitation. He’d gone with Feyre into the heart of Hybern’s camp to save Elain—he knew the risk. “We won’t make the same mistake twice.”

She believed him. “All right.” She scooped up the stones and bones. They were ice-cold against her fingers.

***

Chapter 31

🌸

Rhys sighed to the ceiling. “Shall we?”

Nesta glanced up the stairs past Feyre. Elain had again opted to remain in her room when Nesta was present, which was just fine. Absolutely, utterly fine. Elain could make her own choices. And had chosen to thoroughly shut the door on Nesta. Even as she fully embraced Feyre and her world. Nesta’s chest tightened, but she refused to think of it, acknowledge it. Elain was like a dog, loyal to whatever master kept her fed and in comfort.

***

Chapter 32

🌸

What would Elain think, to see Nesta here with a friend? The thought bubbled up from nowhere. As if in opening her mind, it had rushed toward her. Would Elain be pleased, or would she feel the need to warn Gwyn about Nesta’s true self?

***

Nesta did so, focusing on the breaths and not Elain. I acknowledge this thought about my sister, and I am letting it go.

She was on her seventh breath when her sister appeared again. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.

Had Elain been right? Feyre had admitted she was guilty of it, too, but—Feyre hadn’t known Elain as Nesta did. Or, it hadn’t been that way before. Before Elain had chosen Feyre.

***

Chapter 39

🌸

“Why are you here?” Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. “Where’s Elain?”

“I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort. “And I came up here because Feyre said I should. I need to kill a few hours before I’m to meet with her and Rhys. She thought I might enjoy seeing Nesta at work.”

***

Chapter 40

🌸

Amren shook her head, hair swaying. “Nothing is a fluke. The Cauldron’s power flows through Nesta, and could use her as a puppet without her knowledge. It wanted those weapons Made, and thus they were Made. It wanted Rhysand to have them and thus the blacksmith brought them to you. To you, Rhysand, not to Nesta. And do not forget that Nesta herself—and Elain, with whatever powers she has—is here. Feyre is here. All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match your own. Feyre alone doubles your strength. Nesta makes you unstoppable. Especially if she were to march into battle wearing the Mask. No enemy could stand against her. She’d slay Beron’s soldiers, then raise them from the dead and turn them on him.”

***

Chapter 42

🌸

“I hate this place,” he muttered, flushing. “Allergies.”

Nesta swallowed a laugh. “You don’t need to hide it from me. In the human realm, I used to get so itchy I had to take two baths a day to get rid of all the pollen.” Well, before they’d gone to the cottage. After that, Nesta had been lucky to bathe once a week, thanks to the hassle of heating and hauling so much water to the lone tub in a corner of their bedroom. Sometimes, she and Elain had even shared the same bathwater, drawing straws for who went in second.

Nesta’s throat constricted, and she surveyed the swaying cherry blossoms overhead. Elain would love this place. So many flowers, all in bloom, so much green—the light, vibrant green of new grass—so many birds singing and such warm, buttery sunshine. Nesta felt like a storm cloud standing amid it all. But Elain … The Spring Court had been made for someone like her.

Too bad her sister refused to see her. Nesta would have told Elain to visit this place.

And too bad the lord who ruled these lands was a piece of shit.

***

She’d never forget that beast. How it had broken down the door of their cottage and terrified her to her bones. How all she’d been able to think of was shielding Elain while Feyre had grabbed that knife to face it. Face him.

***

She held his emerald stare, knowing silver flames flickered in her own. “I went into the Cauldron because of you,” she said softly, and could have sworn thunder grumbled in the distance. Cassian and Eris faded away into nothing. There was only Tamlin, only this beast, and what he had done to her and her family.

“Elain went into the Cauldron because of you,” Nesta went on. Her fingertips heated, and she knew if she looked down, she’d find silver embers flaring there. “I don’t care how much you apologize or try to atone for it or claim you didn’t know the King of Hybern would do such a thing or that you begged him not to do it. You colluded with him. Because you thought Feyre was your property.”

***

Chapter 43

🌸

“Valkyries?” Feyre asked from across the dining table in the river house, fork half-raised to her lips. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Cassian said, sipping from his wine at dinner that evening....

“We never heard of them in the human lands,” Elain said. She’d been as riveted as Feyre to hear Cassian tell of it: first of Nesta and the others’ interest, then of the brief history of the female fighters. “They must have been fearsome creatures.”

“Some were as lovely as you, Elain,” Rhys said from beside Feyre, “from the outside. But once they set foot into the arena of battle, they became as bloodthirsty as Amren.”

***

...Cassian added after a moment, “Nesta would have fit in well with them.”

“I always thought she was born on the wrong side of the wall,” Elain admitted. “She made ballrooms into battlefields and plotted like any general. Like you two,” she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel.

Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from. Cassian tucked away his puzzlement. Lucien was certainly not here to snarl at any male who looked at her for too long.

Feyre at last took her hearty bite of food. “Nesta is a wolf who has been locked in a cage her whole life.”

“I know,” Cassian said. She was a wolf who had never learned how to be a wolf, thanks to that cage humans called propriety and society....

Elain leaned forward. “You only think you know—you haven’t seen her on the dance floor. That’s when Nesta truly lets the wolf roam free. When there’s music.”

“Really?” Nesta had told him once, when he’d dragged her out of a particular seedy tavern, that she’d been there for the music. He’d ignored her, thinking it an excuse.

“Yes,” Elain said. “She was trained in dance from a very young age. She loves it, and music. Not in the way I enjoy a waltz or gavotte, but in the way that performers make an art of it. Nesta could bring an entire ballroom to a halt when she danced with someone.”

***

“She wouldn’t have gone into much detail about it,” Elain said. “Nesta was only fourteen at the last ball we went to before—well, before we were poor …” Elain shook her head. “Another young heiress was at the ball, and she positively hated me. She was several years older, and I’d never done anything to provoke her hatred, but I think …”

“She was jealous of your beauty,” Amren said, an amused smile on her red lips.

Elain blushed. “Perhaps.”

It was definitely that. Even though Elain would have been barely thirteen at the time.

***

“Nesta spent a small fortune on her gown and jewels for that night. Our father was always too scared of her to say no, and that night … Well, she truly looked the part of the daughter of the Prince of Merchants. An amethyst silk gown with gold thread, diamonds and pearls at her neck and ears …” Elain sighed. Such wealth. Cassian had never realized what wealth they’d possessed and lost.

“The entire ball stopped when Nesta entered,” Elain said. “She made an entrance of it, perfectly cool and aloof, even at fourteen. She barely glanced the duke’s way. Because she’d learned about him as well. Knew he grew bored of anyone that chased him. And knew that the wealth on her that night dwarfed anything that heiress was wearing.”

Amren was grinning now. “Nesta tried to win a duke out of spite? At fourteen?”

Elain didn’t smile. “She lured him into asking her for a dance with a few well-placed looks across the ballroom. The same waltz that heiress wanted for herself, had boasted would be all she needed to secure his marriage bid. Nesta took that dance from her. And then took the duke from her, too. Nesta danced that night like she was one of you.”

“If you’ve seen Cassian’s dancing,” Rhys muttered, “that’s not saying much.”

Cassian flipped off his High Lord as Feyre and Az chuckled.

Elain continued, voice hushed with near-reverence, “The duke was vain, and Nesta played into that. The entire room came to a standstill. Their dancing was that good; she was that beautiful. And when it ended … I knew she was an artist then. The same way Feyre is. But what Feyre does with paint, that’s what Nesta did with music and dance. Our mother saw it when we were children, and honed it into a weapon. All so Nesta might one day marry a prince.”

Cassian froze. A prince—was that what Nesta wanted? His stomach clenched.

“What happened to the duke?” Azriel asked.

Elain grimaced. “He proposed marriage the next morning.”

Rhys choked on his wine. “She was fourteen.”

“I told you: Nesta is a very good dancer. But that was what my father said—she was too young. It was a graceful exit, since my father, despite his faults, knew Nesta well. He knew she had taunted that duke into making a marriage offer just to punish the heiress for her cruelty toward me. Nesta had no interest in him—knew she was far too young. Even if the duke seemed more interested in just … reserving her until she was old enough.” Elain shuddered with distaste. “But I think some part of Nesta believed she would indeed marry a prince one day. So the duke went home with no bride, and that heiress … Well, she was one of the people who delighted in our misfortunes.”

“I’d forgotten,” Feyre murmured. “About this, and about her dancing.”

“Nesta never spoke of it afterward,” Elain said. “I just observed.”

Nesta was wrong, Cassian realized, to think Elain as loyal and loving as a dog. Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.

***

Elain nodded, folding her hands in her lap. “So I’m very pleased to hear of this Valkyrie business. I’m happy that Nesta finds interest in something again. And might channel all of … that into it.” That, Cassian knew, meant her rage, her fierce and unyielding loyalty to those she loved, her wolf’s instincts and ability to kill.

***

Chapter 44

🌸

“I walked away because you chose my sister.” Just as Elain had done. Amren had been her friend, her ally, and yet in the end, it hadn’t mattered one bit. She’d picked Feyre.

***

Chapter 46

🌸

She had been born wrong. Had been born with claws and fangs and had never been able to keep from using them, never been able to quell the part of her that roared at betrayal, that could hate and love more violently than anyone ever understood. Elain had been the only one who perhaps grasped it, but now her sister loathed her.

***

Chapter 49

🌸

A wave of words pushed themselves out of her. “I should have found a way to save us before then. Save Elain and Feyre when we were poor. But I was so angry, and I wanted him to try, to fight for us, but he didn’t, and I would have let us all starve to prove what a wretch he was. It consumed me so much that … that I let Feyre go into that forest and told myself I didn’t care, that she was half-wild, and it didn’t matter, and yet …” She let out a wrenching cry. “I close my eyes and I see her that day she went out to hunt the first time. I see Elain going into the Cauldron. I see her taken by it during the war. I see my father dead. And now I will see Feyre’s face when I told her that the baby would kill her.” She shook and shook, her tears burning hot down her cheeks.

***

Chapter 50

🌸

Cassian straightened before Rhys could even speak. “You’re not going to use her.”

Feyre glanced between them, and after a second, as if her mate had spoken into her mind, she demanded, “Really, Rhys?”

Rhys leaned back, and Nesta frowned, the only one of them apparently not aware of what this meant. Rhys said to her, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t wish to. But Elain mentioned that you have particular skill on the dance floor. Skill that once won you the hand of a duke in a single waltz.”

***

Nesta crossed her arms, ignoring Cassian’s pointed glare, silently demanding that she dismiss this notion entirely. “You really think my dancing with Eris will solidify his loyalty?”

“I think Eris is our ally, and will expect to dance with a lady of this court at the ball no matter what. I won’t let Feyre within five feet of him, Mor might kill him, and Amren is more likely to scare him off than win him over, so you and Elain are the only options.”

“Elain doesn’t go near him,” Feyre said. “And you won’t let me near him?”

Rhys threw her a charming smile. “You know what I mean.”

***

Nesta shrugged, unable to find the words. She and Elain had rehung the door after Tamlin had broken it. Their father, his leg wrecked beyond repair and unable to bear weight, had watched them, offering unhelpful advice.

***

She nodded. They’d eaten here, some meals in silence, some with her and Elain trying to fill the quiet with their idle chatter, some with her and Feyre at each other’s throats. Like those last meals they’d had with her in this house.

***

Cassian ran a hand over the painted dresser, marveling. “She really did paint stars for herself before she knew Rhys was her mate. Before she knew he existed.” His fingers traced the twining vines of flowers on the second drawer. “Elain’s drawer.” They drifted lower, curling over a lick of flame. “And yours.”

***

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

***

She studied the calluses already building across her fingers and palms. “The debtors seemed gleeful when they came here—like they’d resented him all this time and were more than happy to take it out on his leg. I spent the entire time more terrified for what they’d do to me and Elain. Feyre … She tried to get them to stop. Stayed here with him while we hid in the bedroom.” She made herself meet Cassian’s gaze again. “I didn’t just fail Feyre by letting her go into the woods. There were plenty of other times.”

***

Chapter 55

🌸

Both sisters wore black. Both walked behind Rhys and Feyre, a silent indicator that they were a part of the royal family. Had mighty powers of their own. They’d planned it that way, wanting Eris to see for himself how valuable Nesta was. Cassian wondered if Elain and Nesta had broken their silence while waiting for their entrance. They hadn’t spoken to each other for months now.

Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed. So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court … It sucked the life from her.

***

Feyre and Rhys took their thrones, and Nesta and Elain came to stand at the foot of the dais, between him and Azriel. Cassian didn’t dare say a word to Nesta, or even glance at her, at the body on display—the body he’d tasted so many times now it was a miracle no imprint of his lips lay against her neck.

***

Feyre nodded as Rhys took the box and set it beside his throne. “Use it well.” She smiled softly at Eris. “Ordinarily I would ask you to dance, but my condition has left me unwell enough that I worry about what so much spinning would do to my stomach.” It was the truth. Feyre had bolted from dinner three nights ago to find the nearest toilet. Now she made a show of looking between her two sisters. Elain gave a passable impression of appearing interested. Nesta just looked bored. Like they hadn’t just given away the dagger she’d Made.

***

Feyre noted the direction of Nesta’s stare. “My oldest sister shall take my place.”

Nesta barely glanced to Eris, who pulled his assessing gaze from Elain to stare at the eldest Archeron sister with a mix of wariness and intent that set Cassian’s jaw grinding. Or it would have been grinding, if he hadn’t mastered himself in time to keep his face blank as Nesta began walking toward Eris.

***

By the time Nesta and Eris finished their first rotation through the dance floor, Cassian had the growing feeling that Elain had rather undersold her sister’s abilities.

***

He twirled her again, the waltz already coming to a close. He whispered in her ear, “They say your sister Elain is the beauty, but you outshine her tonight.” His hand stroked down the bare skin of her back, and she arched slightly into the touch.

***

Chapter 57

🌸

“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. Gone was the ill-suited black dress from the ball, replaced by a gown of amethyst velvet, her hair half-up and curling down to her waist. She glowed with good health. Except …

Her brown eyes were wary. Usually, that look was reserved for Lucien. The male was definitely in the family room, since Nesta knew Feyre and Rhys had invited him, but for that look to be directed at her …

They hadn’t spoken of their argument in the few minutes they’d had together before the ball’s procession, and then she’d avoided Elain entirely until the event was over. She didn’t know what she’d say. How to make it right.

Nesta cleared her throat. “Cassian said it might be … good if I came.”

Elain’s eyes flickered. “Did Feyre pay you, like last year?”

“No.” Shame washed through her.

Elain sighed, glancing over Nesta’s shoulder to the open doorway across the entry. The party within, only for their small inner circle. “Please don’t upset Feyre. It’s her birthday, first of all. And in her state—”

“Oh, fuck you,” Nesta snapped, and then choked.

Elain blinked. Nesta blinked back, horror lurching through her.

And then Elain burst out laughing.

Howling, half-sobbing laughs that sent her bending over at the waist, gasping for breath. Nesta just stared, torn between questions and wanting to throw herself into the icy Sidra. “I— I’m so sorry—”

Elain held up a hand, wiping her eyes with the other. “You’ve never said such a thing to me!” She laughed again. “I think that’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

Nesta shook her head slowly, not understanding. Elain just linked her arm through Nesta’s and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it.

“I was just checking on dessert,” Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.

***

And that was that. Nesta ignored the collective sense of relief that filled the room and pivoted, finding herself peering up at Lucien, who greeted her with a wary dip of his chin. Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get. Azriel remained in the doorway. “How’s the Spring Court?” Nesta asked. The fire crackled merrily to her right, and she let the sound ripple through and past her. Acknowledged the crack and what it did to her, and released it. Even as she concentrated on the male she’d addressed.

***

Nesta had been better tonight than last year. Another person entirely. She didn’t laugh freely like Mor and Feyre, or smile sweetly like Elain, but she spoke, and engaged, and sometimes smirked. She saw everything, heard everything. Even the fire, which she seemed to ignore. Pride filled his chest at that—and relief. It had only increased when he’d noticed that she’d cared enough about Az’s aloofness to go up to him to chat.

***

Cassian’s gifts were the usual odd medley: an ancient manuscript on warfare from Rhys, a bag of beef jerky from Azriel—I literally couldn’t think of anything you’d enjoy more, Az had said when Cassian had laughed—and a hideously ugly green sweater from Mor that made his skin look jaundiced. Amren had given him a travel set of spices—so you don’t have to suffer whenever you’re in Illyria—and Elain gave him a specially designed ceramic mug with a lid that he could travel with, bespelled against breaking, to keep tea warm for hours.

***

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

Cassian could feel Nesta watching him, but when he looked, her face was unreadable. No one had gotten her presents except for Feyre and Elain, who had together given her a year’s worth of book-buying credit to her favorite bookshop in the city. It was capped at around three hundred books, which they seemed to think would be more than she could read in a year. Five hundred books’ worth would have been a safer bet, he knew.

***

Chapter 58

🌸

She had a vague sense of Cassian and Mor and Azriel nearby, of Feyre and Rhys and Lucien, of Elain and Varian and Helion. Of Kallias and Viviane, also swollen with child and glowing with joy and strength. Nesta smiled in greeting and left them blinking, but she forgot them within a moment because the stars, the stars, the stars …

***

Chapter 61

🌸

A hand slid into Nesta’s, and she found Elain there, shaking and wide-eyed. Nesta squeezed her sister’s fingers. Together, they approached the other side of the bed.

And when Elain began praying to the Fae’s foreign gods, to their Mother, Nesta bowed her head, too.

***

“Go into her mind to take the pain away,” Madja said to Rhys, who blinked in confirmation, then cursed, as if scolding himself for not thinking of it sooner. Cassian looked across the bed, to where Elain was holding Feyre’s other hand, and Nesta held Elain’s.

***

But Death hovered nearby. Nesta felt it, saw it, a shadow thicker and more permanent than any of Azriel’s. Elain sobbed, squeezing Feyre’s hand, pleading with her to hold on, and Nesta stood in the midst of it, Death swirling around her, and there was nothing, nothing, nothing to be done as Feyre’s breathing thinned, as Madja began shouting at her to fight it—

***

Death lurked near Feyre and her mate, a beast waiting to pounce, to devour them both. Nesta pulled her hand free of Elain’s. Stepped back.

***

Chapter 76

🌸

The room was a tableau of frozen movement, of shocked and horrified faces twisted toward her, toward Feyre and all that blood. Nesta walked through it. Past Rhys’s screaming, straining body, his face the portrait of despair and terror and pain; past grave-faced Azriel; past Cassian, gritting his teeth as he held Rhys back. Past Amren, whose gray eyes were fixed on where Nesta had been, pure dread and something like awe in her face.

Past Mor and that too-small bundle in her arms, Elain at her side, frozen in her crying.

***

Chapter 77

🌸

But none of the others were present on a warm day a few weeks later, when Nesta joined Feyre and Elain for a walk outside the city. Even a glance at the sky revealed no sign of Cassian, who had been keeping Nesta up until dawn with his lovemaking and had become utterly obnoxious about calling her mate any chance he got, except at their continuing morning training with the priestesses.

***

Nesta had stared and stared at her portrait, hung between one of Feyre and one of Elain, and hadn’t realized she was crying until Feyre had held her tightly.

***

Her heart thundered, and she kept a step back as Feyre knelt before the grave marker, showing Nyx to the stone. “Your grandson, Father,” she whispered, voice thick. And then Feyre bowed her head, speaking too low for Nesta or Elain, standing at Nesta’s side, to hear.

After a few minutes, Feyre rose, letting her tears run, as holding the babe kept her hands occupied. Elain went forward, whispered a few things to their father’s grave, and then both sisters looked to Nesta, smiling tentatively.

***

She found Feyre and Elain waiting halfway down the hill, Nyx now dozing peacefully in Elain’s arms. Her sisters beamed, beckoning her to join.

And Nesta smiled back, her steps light as she hurried down the hill to meet them.

***

Chapter 80

#elain #elain archeron #pro elain archeron #elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elain will always be loved by me 🥰

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jdeclerc · 1 year

Text

meet my eye & vow to be true

pairing: cassian x reader

summary: what is sent through the bond is sacred, the most honest of all things - isn't it?

author's note: based on a request made by @horneybeach1, the first one i have ever received - i hope i did your request justice, and i apologize for the delay <3

warnings: brief description of injuries

word count: 2,789

As you pull your blade from the body in front of you, the nameless male falling to the ground, you see the end. The end of the carnage that has filled this camp for countless hours before the sun began its descent in the sky.

All that surrounds you now is the slow movements and utter quiet of the army that had defeated those laying at your feet. A combined Night and Autumn Court unit, formed for the destruction of one of the last of Hybern’s holdouts.

You instinctively begin searching for your family, scanning the area around you for some reassurance of their safety. You had seen Azriel and your mate hours before, both with their siphons ablaze, carving a path through your enemies.

In the time since, you had tugged at the bond, seeing to the safety of your mate. Cassian responded to each of your tugs with one of his own, conveying what you needed from him; he was safe and unharmed.

You had only caught glimpses of the other members of the Inner Circle and knew you would only settle once you had seen for yourself that they were safe.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that none of them remained close, you had ended up on the far edge of the battle, one of the last areas to cease fighting. It is your name that pulls you from your forming list of possible locations of your family.

“Lady Y/N, what a relief! When you didn’t show up at the healers’ tent everyone became worried. The High Lord sent us in search of you.” It is one of Cassian’s captains approaching you. Thalien, a loyal male you had known for centuries.

“The healers’ tent?” You give him a puzzled look. “Why would you expect me to be there?”

“The entire Inner Circle is gathered ‘round it, no one knows any exact details about what happened to him.”

“Thalien, out with it. Who is so injured that it has the entire leadership of our court concerned?” The worry and anger replacing your curiosity leaks into your response and has the captain stumbling over his words.

“It’s…I thought you would have known…The General M’Lady, he was injured during the battle. No one knows how long it was before he was found.”

“Anything else?” Your words are grated, anger moving solely to the forefront of your emotions.

“That is all I know, I swear it.”

Although you know the captain is not at fault, you can’t help the look of contempt you throw his way as you take off past him without another word.

----------

Nesta is the first you see as the healers’ tent comes into view. You can tell by the way she steps into your path and raises her hands that your emotions can be clearly read.

“Y/N…he needs calm. They’re doing everything they can for him. Wait out here with us, it’ll be better that way, I promise.”

“Nesta…please.” Your voice breaks as you say the words.

You can tell by the way she looks at you that she knows there is no stopping your entering of the tent. She exchanges glances with her sisters, Mor, and Amren, all remaining vigil with her outside of the tent. After a moment Nesta steps to the side, the two of you having always understood the stubbornness of the other.

You move past her and pass through the opening of the tent. As it closes behind you, your breath is stolen form you.

Cassian, the imposing force of a mate that he is, is laying unconscious on a table in the center of the tent. His wings having fallen slack on either side, resting on the dirt floor. Blood covers the floor surrounding the table and you trace it to a wound on his abdomen so massive it would have meant death for any one other than an Illyrian.

The upper half of his leathers has been removed. Madja and several other healers work in tandem in what could only be described as controlled chaos.

You feel a hand grip your elbow and you realize for the first time that Azriel and Rhysand stand inside the tent with you.

You meet both of their eyes and see your worry reflected back at you. Rhysand knows the question that lays in your eyes and moves to put his arm around your waist.

“He was found in the woods; it would appear he was going after a group of fae being held captive. From what we gathered the men holding them captive ambushed Cas…they’re weapons laced with faebane. We don’t know how long he had been out there before he was found.”

You gave him a silent nod, doing everything you could to keep your tears at bay.

“What of the captured fae?”

“Already on their way to Velaris, Eris has also offered them sanctuary should they choose it.”

Venom leaks into your voice with your next question.

“And the men?”

It is Azriel who answers as he comes to stand at your other side and brings his arm across your shoulders.

“They’re dead. Somehow Cas remained conscious long enough to tear them down, allowing the captured fae to escape.”

You expect no less from your mate. His heart had always been his greatest attribute, his role as protector outweighing all others he donned.

The three of you fall into a tense silence, clinging to each other as you watch the one male you never thought you would see fall fight for his life.

---------

You aren’t sure how much time passes before Madja steps back and approaches the three of you.

“He is a fighter; he is only still with us because he willed it.” She meets your eyes and ensures you hear her words. “Your General will rise and fight another day. Give him time, he will wake.”

You can’t help the tears that fall with your next words.

“There are no words of thanks I can give you Madja that would repay what you’ve done today.”

“Your thanks would be wasted on me, my dear. You lot are more important to me than you could ever know…no matter how neglectful you all are in following my advice.” She pins the three of you with a glare but can’t help the small smile that crosses her face.

You return her smile, knowing that she is a vital part of the foundation on which your family stands.

A moment of silence falls between the four of you before you find the courage to ask her your small hope, grasping Madja’s hands in your own as you voice it.

“Can we…can we bring him home? He’ll want to be at home when he wakes.”

Madja glances behind her at your mate and you can see her considering her answer before she voices it.

“For you, my dear Y/N, I will make it so. Give us time to prepare him.”

---------

Cassian can hear the questions Rhys is asking Madja about his recovery, can hear the shit Az is giving him about letting mere mortals get the best of him, but all he can focus on is his mate. His strong, fearsome, beautiful mate, standing at the edge of their bedroom like a stranger, as though she doesn’t belong right by his side.

He has been looking past his brothers and the healer since he awoke, hoping to catch your eye. Only when Madja ends her examination, and you offer to escort her out do you finally meet his gaze. What he sees in your eyes outweighs any physical pain he has ever experienced.

He watches the door as it closes behind you, feeling nothing as he reaches out to you through the bond.

“Cas, she’s –”

“Az, don’t. I’m the one that fucked up, she has every right to feel how she does.”

“And how exactly did you fuck up brother? By almost getting killed?”

“I lied…through the bond.”

Both males fell silent, waiting for Cassian to continue.

“We had been sending waves through the bond throughout the battle, making sure the other was safe. After…After what happened, happened, I may not have let her know the extent of my injuries.”

“You made her think everything was fine, didn’t you?” Cassian’s failure to respond was answer enough. “You absolute dickhead, how foolish can you be? I could kill you myself, I certainly wouldn’t blame Y/N if she did.”

Rhys let out a low whistle from where he stood, his eyebrows raising higher than Cassian has ever seen them do so before.

His expression hardened a moment later.

“Never have I seen Y/N so terrified Cassian. For three days she hasn’t left your side, no matter how often we begged her to eat, to sleep. You’re right, you fucked up. Fix this or injuries inflicted by mortals will be the least of your problems.” The room began to darken with each word spoken by the High Lord. “Do. You. Understand. Me?”

Cassian could do nothing but nod, words failing him.

The two males gave him a look of disdain and turn to leave.

“Will you two at least help me up so I can find her?”

---------

It doesn’t take long for Cassian to find you.

The library at the House of Wind had always been the place you found solace. You found peace within the stacks of books.

He comes upon you in the furthest corner of the library, returning a book and undoubtedly searching for a new one.

Cassian knows by the whitening of your knuckles around the book you are holding that you hear him approach.

“Y/N/N, I know –”

“Cassian, don’t.” The anger in your voice is anchored by the tears he sees in your eyes as you look up at him. “There is nothing you could say that would excuse what you did. So please, do us both a favour and go back to bed. Then maybe you’ll actually be okay the next time you tell me you are.”

“Let me explain.”

“Explain what? How you used what connects us at our cores to deceive me? Or how you almost died, alone, in the woods because of your refusal to tell me the truth?” Cassian can’t help but recoil at your words, knowing each one is truer than the last. “There is no explanation you could give that is good enough. No reassurance you could give me that what you did was right. Leave, now, for both our sakes.”

As you turn away from him, he can’t help but reach for you, letting out a cry of pain as he does, having overextended his injuries.

Your hands are at his sides in an instant, helping him remain stable.

“You damn fool. You’ve likely undone Madja’s work, and you’ve only just woken up.”

Cassian can’t help but hold his breath as you begin to undo the buttons of his shirt; the two of you having been in this exact position under very different circumstances.

You both grow quiet as your hands skirt across his abdomen, checking the state of his bandages, refusing to meet his eye the entire time.

You let out a disapproving noise, “You’ve split your stitches. Our bathroom…now.”

You put his arm across your shoulder as you lead him out of the library and up the stairs.

---------

Cassian settles on the bathroom vanity as you gather the first aid supplies you both decided long ago to keep close at hand.

You step between his legs as you bring a cloth to clean the blood from his wound. He can tell that even in your anger you are as gentle as you can be.

And it’s your quiet apologies as you fix the stitches he tore, that he realizes it’s not your anger he should concern himself with.

Cassian grabs your hands to halt your movements.

“Y/N, please. You can yell, scream, say whatever vulgar words I undoubtedly deserve, but please, my love, at least look at me.”

You don’t make any movement, Cassian takes your chin between his fingers and tilts your face upwards, so your eyes meet his. He finds no trace of anger, finds nothing but immense pain. His next words come out broken, barely above a whisper.

“Talk to me…please.”

Cassian watches as your eyes search his.

“I was so scared, I thought…I thought I’d lost you.” Your voice breaks and he can see you give yourself a moment before you continue. “The thought of losing you steals the breath form my lungs, turns my world black. You were okay, you told me you were okay, and then I see you on that table…”

You choke back a sob as Cassian’s hands come to settle on either side your neck, resting his forehead against yours.

“What do you feel Y/N?”

Your hands come to rest atop his.

“Your hands, the…the callouses from training.”

“Good, what do you smell?”

“You, my mate. The coolness of the winds coming off the Illyrian mountains, and the crackling embers of the fire inside the cabin.”

“And what do you feel?”

“Safety and love, my home.”

“I am here Y/N, I am real. I’m not going anywhere, not now and not any time soon if I have anything to do with it. I will fight the Mother, the Cauldron, anyone, or anything to stay by your side.” He pulls back enough to look directly into your eyes. “I will spend the rest of our days showing you how truly sorry I am. I swear to you, never gain will I use our bond to deceive you. Never.”

You both wince at the same time with the voicing of his vow. Cassian watches as the mark appears on his lower sternum, knowing the same is appearing on you.

“Cauldron boil me, that definitely could have waited until my other injuries healed.”

You both let out a small laugh at his words.

“This doesn’t mean I’m not angry, you have a lot of groveling ahead of you General.”

“Hmmm…trust me when I say I will be on my knees before you the first chance I get.”

Cassian leans forward and captures your lips with his, quickly deepening the kiss as he leans your head back.

You rest your hands on his thighs and press further into him. Cassian breaks the kiss with a hiss of pain.

You’re quick to check him over, worrying about causing him further pain. Cassian once again takes you hands in his and leans in to kiss you again, pulling away a few moments later.

“As much as I would enjoy continuing our current activity, I think Madja was right when she said I need rest. Lay with me?”

You look up at him though your lashes as you give him a nod. You keep a hand on his arm as he stands from the vanity, and you help him slowly make his way to your bed. Helping him settle against the headboard.

“You know, if I could, you would be on top of me, gripping the headboard…it’s oh so lonely here by myself.”

“You’ll just have to make it up to me some other time, now, won’t you?”

He makes sure the look he gives you shows that he means to live up to your challenge.

“Let me change and I’ll join you.”

He gives you a small smile as you enter your shared closet and can’t help but push love and adoration down the bond when you emerge in the red silk pajamas he had gifted you on your latest name day.

Cassian watches as you grab your book off your nightstand and settle into your side of the bed.

“Read to me?”

---------

It isn’t the first time Cassian has asked this of you, and you know it won’t be the last. He had said once that your voice brought him comfort like nothing else. The wonder in which you fell into books being his favourite.

You motion for him to rest his head in your lap. He moves as slowly as possible, wincing only once as he settles his wings on either side of you.

You brush your hand through your mate’s hair and stare down at him, giving him the most loving of smiles, him giving you one of his own in response.

You lean down, ghosting your lips across his forehead and begin reading, watching as he quickly falls into a much-needed sleep.

You realize, in that moment, that your anger has dissipated, knowing nothing is as valuable as moments such as these with your mate.

The General needn’t know of this realization though.

For he is oh, so good at earning your forgiveness.

#cassian x reader #cassian #acotar #acotar x reader #night court #autumn court

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separatist-apologist · 7 months

Text

Traitors Never Win

Summary: When Feyre Archeron's father promises she'll marry notorious crime boss Rhysand Moreno, Feyre will do anything to get out of the arrangement…including framing him for murder.

Rhysand isn't about to let her go so easily.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Now I get to write nessian

Rhys knew he was on borrowed time.

Never more so than when Cassian and Azriel crossed into Wisconsin to track down the newly reunited Nesta and Elain. The sisters were officially out of custody and it was only a matter of time before someone went to check on Feyre. Rhys was no closer to making her his wife that morning than he had been when he met her.

It occurred to him that he could force her. Drag her home, tie her up, gag her, and call someone willing to overlook her distress. He wanted a more auspicious start for them rather than repeat his own mothers marriage. She’d never been happy with his father despite his fathers obsession with her.

Rhys rolled to his side where Feyre lay, her back facing him. Gently, he ran his finger over the soft ridges over her spine and considered his next move. He needed her—and refused to give her back. He was out of options, though.

For the two of them, it was now or it was never. If he told her, though, Feyre would dig her heels in. Stubborn to a fault, Rhys believed she’d refuse to marry him on principle, even if she wanted him. It had to be a conclusion she came to on her own, even if he manipulated her into thinking she wanted it.

Staring at his phone, Rhys reread the message Cassian sent that morning.

Get home if you can. Koschei is on our trail and if he’s found us, he’ll find you.

Oh, no doubt he was sending one of his little soldiers out to Rhys. It was fucked up and he knew it…but maybe a little danger was what Feyre needed. Just enough adrenaline to see him clearly, make a decision she wouldn’t normally, and see it finalized before she could change her mind. Rhys could keep her distracted with his body if she agreed, trapped in a rose colored haze for the next few weeks.

And then it would be too late. There was no divorce for them.

Besides, if that didn’t work he could always just get her pregnant, assuming she wasn’t already. He’d been too nervous to ask if she was using birth control, unwilling to admit any part of his fucked up plans. He’d been poking around her cabinet looking for them—but maybe she used an insert.

Maybe he ought to stop obsessing over her body, he reminded himself. Everything was fine—case and point, Feyre was naked in his bed and he hadn’t had to force her to do it. And while she had kicked him in the stomach once, she’d also flipped herself onto her stomach and raised her ass in the air when she felt his cock pressed against her tailbone.

And he’d take it.

“Hey, pretty baby,” he whispered, brushing his lips against the back of her neck. It was fun to see goosebumps rise on her shoulders, to feel her stir against the morning light pouring through the windows. “Are you hungry?”

Feyre was always hungry—if Rhys didn’t know what she wanted, he could always start with food.

“Do you ever sleep in?” she mumbled.

“Would you like to?” he questioned. Rhys loved to be up early, with a cup of coffee in one hand while he sat outside and watched the sun rise. It reminded him that he was alive and Rhys knew too well how much a gift that was. Especially for someone like him, forever hunted. Even then, Rhys could feel Koschei getting closer and closer.

Not the man himself, of course. He’d let people like Hybern do the work for him, venturing out only if everyone around him failed. If he hadn’t been so focused on Feyre, Rhys would have been working on drawing them out and setting his little traps.

Maybe he still could.

“Yes,” Feyre interrupted, unaware of the slant of his thoughts. “Until at least noon, but maybe all day.

“A whole day in bed?” Rhys practically purred, trying to imagine it. In his daydreams, they were somewhere tropical and isolated, surrounded by warm water and open skies.

Feyre rolled onto her back, making him painfully aware of her perky breasts staring up at him. “Yeah, Rhys. You never spend a day just rotting in bed?”

“No,” he admitted. He got up, he went to the gym, and he went to work—always in that order. Even when he was sick, Rhys thought it was better to get up and power through than to stay in bed doing nothing.

Still, if Feyre was in his bed, the thought of nothing suddenly seemed exceptionally appealing.

“Never?” she questioned, blue eyes focused on his face.

“I could be tempted,” he told her, trying—and failing—not to look at her naked breasts.

“Today?”

This was what he needed—Feyre, inviting him to stay in bed with her where the activities were fairly limited and he was positive she’d have sex with him at least once.

“Why not,” Rhys agreed, sliding his phone onto the table next to the bed.

Feyre settled among the pillows once she’d reached over the edge of the bed for his shirt—he was letting her wear them despite losing access to her body, if only because he liked the sight of her in his too big shirt.

She wore it like a dress, drenched in his scent. There was something primal about it, he decided. Rhys liked the way she looked in his clothes, his bed, his everything.

“What now?” Rhys questioned, hoping she was going to let him slip beneath the blanket and have his wicked way with her.

Feyre considered his question. “Now we just…lay here. We could watch something, or—” “Or we could talk,” he suggested. Feyre raised her brows.

“Is that a euphemism?”

“No. I like the sound of your voice,” Rhys admitted. “Tell me about your life.”

“What part?” she questioned.

“All of it,” Rhys said, greedy as ever. “Tell me all of it.”

Feyre balked a little—did he want to know about being a baby, she wondered? Yes, he’d declared. Start from the beginning, tell him everything. And Feyre, for her part, did. It wasn’t linear, but she told him stories about her life while Rhys listened, absorbing it all. He did get up to make breakfast, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and nothing else while Feyre trailed after him.

She was less prickly that morning, answering his questions when he asked. And Rhys had a thousand questions—a million, really—that he wanted answered. He brought the food into the bedroom, tempted to feed her fruit from his fingers though he abstained. No need to ruin what was turning into a perfect day.

“Why did you kill him?” Rhys heard himself asking later in the day. She’d danced around her father, omitting him from most of her stories.

Feyre drew her knees to her chest, back resting against the wooden headboard. “I was angry,” she admitted. “I’d been angry for a long time.”

“Why?”

She grew silent for a moment, contemplating her feelings. “I guess…after our mom died, he just became something of a shell. He was spending money recklessly, he was making decisions without telling anyone…”

That explained her anger about their engagement, he supposed.

“All he wanted to do was hole up in his office. He left everything else to me and my sisters and we just…we weren’t accustomed to taking care of his household. Elain was taking care of him and Nesta was just so mad all the time which caused us to fight…I was just tired. And when he came home and he informed me he’d decided to marry me off, I guess I just snapped.”

“You know, I was at home when I heard the news he was dead,” Rhys told her, wondering if she cared about him at all. Feyre looked over, eyes bright again.

“Were you angry when they told you what I said?”

Rhys smiled. “No. I had a good laugh about it, though. If I was going to kill your father, I would have done a far neater job.”

“Were you? Going to kill him, I mean?”

“No. His debts would have killed him eventually without any help from me. I was merely a bandaid for his bigger problems. If you wanted him dead, you should have come to me.”

“And what? You would have done it? Just like that?” she asked skeptically, snapping her fingers to illustrate her point.

“Just like that,” Rhys agreed easily.

“Why me? Why not Nesta or Elain?”

Rhys couldn’t even remember what they looked like. He just shrugged. “Would you hate me if I told you that you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen?”

“No,” she replied with the pinkest cheeks he’d ever seen. “I’m starting to think its not possible to hate you.”

“I’m growing on you,” he said with a grin.

“Like a fungus,” she agreed. “You should hate me, you know.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why. If I were in your position, I might have done the same.”

“I don’t think I’d be so forgiving,” she informed him, looking over to drink him in. “I don’t know if your face is that tempting.”

“What about the rest of me?” Rhys questioned, running a hand down his bare torso. “Maybe I should have sent you a picture of my cock—”

“That would not have helped!”

“You don’t know that,” he replied good naturedly. “It’s a nice cock.”

She didn’t argue, and Rhys didn’t push her. He knew the truth and besides, there was no point in ruining what was shaping into being a perfect day. She was in his bed, telling him about her life and for once they weren’t arguing or snapping. It was a little peek into the life he wanted—domesticated Feyre purring in his lap like a house cat.

“I didn’t plan it,” she finally said, eyes glazed with memory. “It just happened.”

“I don’t judge you for it,” Rhys told her, unwilling to admit that he couldn’t remember everyone he’d killed.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. I wasn’t thinking about you at the time. I planned to turn myself in—”

“Foolish,” Rhys hissed, immediately frustrated by the thought. Even with all his money and influence, Rhys didn’t think he could have kept her from prison.

Feyre offered him a small smile. “You sound like my sister.”

“You did the right thing,” he praised, not wanting her to feel an ounce of guilt on his behalf. “They’ll never tie me to it.”

“I said you did it,” Feyre reminded him.

Rhys tapped her nose with the tip of his finger. “You didn’t see me, little love. And just as soon as Azriel gets back, there will be no evidence tying you or me to that death.”

“Why do you say that?” Feyre asked, her face paling.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said quietly. “The less you know, the better.”

“I thought we were equals—”

“We would be if you were my wife,” Rhys shot back before he could stop himself. Feyre crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing.

“Why? So I can’t testify against you—”

“So I don’t have to testify against you,” he snarled, suddenly furious. “You committed the crime, Feyre—not me. And one of these days some overzealous agent looking for a promotion is going to reexamine the scene, the evidence, and who was standing in that house that day and they’re going to realize what you’ve done.”

She took a breath. “They won’t.”

“They will,” Rhys replied. “Trust me—putting away a mobster is the dream of every cop. They write your names in books for that kind of take down. They’ll be looking for me…but they’ll find you. And then they’ll send some nervous, sweaty asshole to my door offering to look the other way if I tell them what happened when I tracked you down. That’s a tempting offer, Feyre.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

Rhys didn’t think about it. “If I have to. Though, I’d prefer you willing.”

Feyre stood abruptly, her face unreadable. “I need a minute.”

“Take your time,” he replied, climbing out of bed himself. He let her walk toward the back of the cabin, assuming she was going to his office to think. Let her think about the day she’d sat on his cock while he worked, he thought sullenly. Rhys went to the living room so he could stare moodily out the window.

Nothing ever went the way he imagined. It was hard to celebrate fucking her when she didn’t like him or trust him. Would he blackmail her into being his wife? Rhys wanted to be the kind of man who would say not…but he knew he would. He knew if he couldn’t get her to agree in the next two days, he’d be tying her up again and threatening to turn her in.

“Rhys?” Feyre’s voice asked from behind him. He twisted to look at her, stepping to the left to keep balance.

“Ye—”

The glass behind him shattered and something threw him forcefully to the ground as Feyre screamed, arms up over her head.

“Get down!” he roared, terrified another bullet would silence her. He’d been shot, he realized—though rather than hitting him dead center, he’d been shot through the shoulder. It wasn’t ideal, but it was workable.

Someone was coming—Rhys could hear boots crunching against snow. Twisting, he turned to make his way to Feyre only to find she was gone. Fuck. Now he had two problems—a killer at his front door and a runaway wife out the back. He didn’t have time to grab a gun before the door kicked open.

He knew the bitch standing in front of him. He’d recognize that bottled red hair from space—Amarantha.

“Rhys,” she said, flashing him a vicious smile. “You’re getting sloppy.”

He forced himself to his feet, refusing to die on his knees. “Your aim is as good as it's always been.”

Amarantha shrugged, gloved hands holding her rifle firmly. “You know, I usually love our banter but today I just don’t have time. You’ll forgive my—”

A shot fired, sending Amarantha flying to the ground like a doll who’s strings had just been cut. Rhys looked up to find Feyre, barefoot and pantless, standing in the doorway holding a gun. He expected to see fear—or maybe shock—but all he found on that beautiful face of hers was grim determination.

“A friend of yours?” Feyre questioned, dancing back into the house in an attempt to avoid the snow.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Rhys replied. Feyre came to him, stepping over Amarantha’s body like it didn’t exist.

“You’re hurt,” she said, reaching out to touch the blood before pulling back.

“I’ll survive,” he replied, grateful adrenaline was keeping the pain at bay. This was what he’d wanted, right? A little danger to soften her? Maybe not like this—Rhys had assumed they’d have more of a warning and less bullets coming at them.

Still.

“We need to go,” Rhys told her, steering Feyre toward the bedroom. He’d kept her clothes from that first night specifically for this reason. He couldn’t drag her naked across the country, afterall. Rhys pulled out the jeans, t-shirt, and jacket before tossing it to the bed.

“What about your arm?” Feyre asked, gun still in hand. “Shouldn’t we dig it out?”

“You’re a doctor now?” Rhys asked, hating that he needed her to do this for him. Feyre shrugged.

“I’ve done it before. For my dad, I mean.”

“You’re a good girl, Feyre,” he murmured, wishing he had the time to bend her over the bed. Rhys could still fuck her, injured or not. In fact, he thought the sight of his blood smeared over her tits would send him into a frenzy. “My good girl.”

“I thought she killed you,” Feyre whispered as Rhys sat on the edge of the tub. “I thought…”

“I’m fine,” he told her, heart thudding in his throat. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yeah,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Rhys couldn’t take his eyes off her while she worked, swallowing his pain so he didn’t upset her. Maybe, in another life, Feyre would have been a doctor—she certainly had a soft touch. She managed to get the bullet out in one go while he was lucky it hadn’t shattered into a million little pieces.

His arm burned by the time Feyre got to suturing, and all he wanted to do was lay down. Dried blood coated his upper half and stained his shorts, the towel beneath his feet, and likely the white tile, too.

“Can you stand?” Feyre whispered, brushing her fingers against his jaw.

“Of course,” he lied. “Go get dressed.” But he couldn’t. Rhys wobbled the moment he tried, flinging out his hand to hold the wall so he didn’t fall backward. His whole body trembled from the dull, throbbing pain from his wound that seemed to echo in his skull.

He didn’t know how long he stood there. Only that Feyre returned, more blur than woman, and led him out.

“You can go,” Rhys whispered as he collapsed to the bed, too heavy to move. His eye lids were iron, unwilling to open once they’d shut. “You should go.”

The blackness ate away at him before he heard what she said in response.

And then he was lost.

FEYRE:

Rhys was a big man.

She’d never really thought about it before he’d collapsed onto the bed, shirtless and bloody. A dull roaring filled Feyre’s ears as panic threatened to consume her. They couldn’t stay—someone else might be coming. So Feyre forced herself to swallow her fear so she could dress him in a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. She packed him a few things, unsure what he’d want to wear when he woke, and then began the arduous task of dragging his muscular body out to the car.

She did it, though. She put him in the back, her guns in the front, and then herself in the car. “We did it,” she said with a grin, turning toward the road with unrestrained glee. His car had a navigation system and after she thought she was far enough from the cabin, Feyre quickly typed in her destination.

And then she drove. It was strange to be in a car again—for the last five years, Feyre had biked everywhere she went. Tamlin had kept her isolated, perhaps to her benefit at the time. Now, though, Feyre finally felt uncaged. Free, somehow.

Feyre drove through the night without stopping, terrified that she was being tracked at first. After she was certain she wasn’t, Feyre worried about leaving Rhys’s unconscious body in the back of her car. The last thing she needed were the cops pulling them over and realizing who they were.

Sheer will alone would keep Rhys from dying.

He was a predictable man. Rhys woke with a start just before the sun began to rise, peering first out the window before looking between the seats at her.

“You’re still here,” he rasped. Feyre smothered her smile.

“Did you think I’d leave you to die?”

“Expected it, actually,” Rhys replied with a grimace. “Where are we?”

“Nevada,” Feyre replied with a grin.

Rhys blinked. “Why?”

“Oh, are you coy now?” Feyre half teased. “Why else would I be here?”

“Feyre—”

“I realized something,” she interrupted, uninterested in his attempts at nobility. It was too late now. “When you were down and I thought you were dead, it occurred to me that I didn’t want you dead. I want to keep talking to you, Rhys. And I know this whole situation is a mess, but I think I might be falling in love with you.”

“Oh, thank God,” he panted, resting his chin on the seat of her chair.

“Plus, I figured this was the only way you’d agree to take me home.”

“You know me so well, darling.”

“Now it's your turn,” Feyre murmured, needing a distraction from the decision she was about to make. “Tell me about your life.”

Rhys settled back against the seat with a soft groan and began to talk. Feyre half listened, mind occasionally wandering to her sisters. She could bring them all back together…though what would they say when they realized the last five years had been for nothing? She trusted them not to betray her, but didn’t trust they wouldn’t shun her.

Nesta, at least.

“What happened after your sister died?” Feyre questioned, wincing at the story of how she’d been shot in the back after his mother had been executed by a rival family.

“Dad went berserk,” Rhys murmured, eyes dark. “He wanted revenge which made him reckless. He died to a bullet, to…and I took over.”

“That must have been hard.”

Rhys shrugged. “Not as hard as you’re imagining. I miss my family, but I was groomed for this. Work is easy.”

“The last five years have been easy?” she questioned.

Rhys smiled. “Frustrating, I suppose…but I found you, didn’t I? Was it all worth it, Feyre?”

“Yeah,” she replied, unsure if that was true or not. There was no reason to give him the satisfaction of being right. “I’d do it all over again.”

Rhys liked that answer, murmuring something about foreplay. It was the perfect time to stop, get a marriage license, and then have a quick, quiet courthouse wedding. Rhys swore up and down he didn’t want anything flashy or big which suited Feyre more than fine. She hated to be the center of attention.

“I want to fly home,” Feyre whispered to him later that night when they were alone, pretending like neither one of them wanted to peel the other out of their clothes. “And I want you to tell your friends to let my sisters come home.”

“What else do you want?” Rhys asked her, fingers laced with hers as he kissed her fingertips.

“If you ever step out of this marriage, I’ll have your balls.”

Rhys chuckled. “I think that’s reasonable.”

There was no question if he needed to issue the same threat. Feyre wondered if Rhys was merely willing to tolerate her indiscretions or if he merely assumed she never would. Feyre knew Rhys well enough to assume if he ever caught her, he’d execute the unlucky man without sparing a second thought.

It should have bothered her and yet it didn’t. Maybe, she thought, she was just as messed up as he was. Maybe worse, because Feyre found herself rolling over to look at him.

“How is your shoulder?” she questioned.

“Fine,” he lied, eyes sharp with hunger.

“Oh? I guess you don’t need me to take care of you, then?” she asked, sliding her leg over his waist. Rhys swallowed.

“You ah…could check,” he said. Feyre straddled him, pushing the hem of his shirt upward over his chest before gently pulling it over his head. She was careful with his injured shoulder, removing that sleeve last so he didn’t have to raise it over his head.

Rhys merely watched, eyes wide while he waited to see what was about to happen. Perhaps this was the moment Feyre would pull out her knife and kill him. Feyre didn’t have a knife on her and the guns she’d stolen were hidden in the hotel room they were staying in, far out of reach.

She merely kissed the wound.

“You can be sweet when you want to be,” Rhys breathed, his good hand resting on her hip.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Why not?” he replied, arching her neck as she pressed a kiss against the hollow of his throat.

“I want to see you live to old age, which means keeping you sharp.”

Rhys sucked in a shuddering breath, relaxing as she crawled down his body. It felt good not to pretend anymore—to just give in to the life that had always been waiting for her. Maybe she’d regret this in another five years.

But maybe not.

She didn’t right then, as she licked a path down his stomach toward the erection she knew was waiting for her. Rhys seemed to be perpetually aroused and today was no exception.

“Feyre,” he breathed as she pulled his cock from his shorts. “Come back here—”

“Stop talking,” she ordered, just before licking a stripe up his shaft. Rhys moaned, lifting his hips in the air. It was tempting to stop and ask him how often he’d fantasized about this. She didn’t. He’d tell her when they finished, if only because Rhys loved to talk more than he loved anything else. He told her his every thought, sometimes as he was thinking them.

Feyre liked that about him.

“Is this what you want?” she whispered, teasing the blunt head with her tongue.

“Yes,” he all but pleaded.

Feyre took him in her mouth like she’d done the first time, though she wasn’t hanging upside down. Stretching her jaw to accommodate him, Feyre watched through half lidded eyes to gauge his pleasure. In turn, Rhys watched her. He gathered her hair up in his hands, wincing from his wound. It clearly wasn’t painful enough to stop him and Feyre wasn’t going to demand it of him, either.

She wanted to make him feel good, easing her own mind after the day she’d had. She hadn’t told him how she’d had to drag him out to the car, assuming he understood how he’d gotten there. It didn’t make the experience any less harrowing.

Feyre worked on taking him deeper, until his cock was lodged in her throat as she softly gagged around him. Rhys swept his thumb over her jaw before moving his hand to her throat as she took him again, feeling himself through her skin.

“Fuck,” he whispered, keeping his hand loosely wrapped around her. He should have let her continue given how much he was obviously enjoying himself, but he didn't. Rhys tugged her, pulling her mouth off his cock so abruptly that strings of saliva came with her.

“Rhys,” she protested as he lifted his hips, trying to line himself up with her own body.

“Please,” he said in response, finding his target. Rhys slid into her with a fluid motion, both hands on her hips to guide her. “Take off your shirt.”

It was all she was wearing. Feyre had become used to wearing Rhys’s shirts and rather liked it, though she’d never admit it. In that moment, Feyre was happy to comply. She tossed her shirt to the floor as Rhys’s hands slid up her body to cup her breasts.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby. Do you know that?”

Feyre only moaned, rocking her hips against him. While Rhys tried to touch her everywhere all at once, Feyre merely dug her nails into his broad chest and continued moving against him. Every time Feyre and Rhys met, her clit brushed against his skin causing her to tighten around him.

“You feel so good,” Rhys whined, arching his back. “This is my pussy now.”

It was an absurd thing to say and only a man like Rhys could pull it off. Rising up so Feyre was fully in his lap, Rhys pressed them chest to chest.

“You’re my wife,” he whispered against her neck. “Tell me you love me.”

“Rhys—”

His teeth grazed her throat. “Say it.”

“I love you,” she gasped after a particularly brutal thrust that left her brainless. Rhys kissed her, hands bracing her ass so he was doing most of the work. Somewhere in the very back of her mind, Feyre knew his arm must have been killing him.

Gripping the back of his hair, Feyre pulled Rhys back just enough to force him to look at her. “Now you.” He moaned, “I love you.”

That was enough to send them both careening over the edge, gasping and kissing long after her orgasm had faded. If they had neighbors on either side, they had surely heard everything…and would hear more as they night went on. Who needed sleep, anyway?

Who needed anything at all, beyond the man in front of her.

“Rhys?” she murmured, chin resting on his uninjured shoulder. “Will you do something for me?”

“Anything. Just name it.”

“Take me home.”

Rhys smiled, face pressed to her hair. “You got it, baby.”

#feysand #i literally finished this so i could start working on nessian seriously #also warning for egregious use of the word baby #and for rhys saying something i had to look away from as i typed #it embarrassed me hahaha

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fieldofdaisiies · 7 months

Text

azriel x eris | 3,6k words | warnings: mentions of something close to a panic attack, sad thoughts | masterlist

He can’t breathe. The walls of the dimly lit room are moving in on him, the air is thick, hazy, he needs to catch a breath, but he can’t. His lungs won’t open, won’t fill.

His heart is hammering against his ribcage, his wings feel like a burden on his back, the blanket draped across his body suddenly resembling a vice that is wrapped around his torso, cutting off his blood circulation. His chest feels too tight. He trembles and a gurgling sound slips through his dry lips.

I don’t know why I kissed you, but I know it was a mistake.

I was a fucking huge mistake - the biggest mistake he could have ever made. Why did he kiss Eris? Out of everyone in Prythian, why did he have to choose Eris for his first kiss with a male.

Or any kiss.

Why Eris? Why this damn huge asshole? Why did he have to kiss him?

It is all Eris‘ fault,” Azriel groans under his breath. “He tempted me. He seduced me.”

Azriel knows this is only half the truth. Of course, Eris somehow tempted him – his scent, his looks, his closeness, the things he said, but still Azriel made the first step and he can’t make sense of it. Eris is just…everything Azriel now imagines in the depth of night. Everything he thinks of every minute of the day. His body, and the possible things the heir of the Autumn Court could do with it, the only fantasy sparking in his mind once his shadows are asleep.

Eris is…everything he loathes and wants at the same time and it doesn’t make sense.

He has felt himself drawn to Eris, more than to any male ever before, but he hates him. He can’t stand him, and yet his heart beats a little faster whenever someone mentions the Autumn Court prince‘s name. And when they are in the same room, or only within a short distance, his soul starts to sing the sweetest melody. The kind of melodies Gwyn sings in the services.

It all started after the High Lord‘s meeting. It was the first time he started to question…things. But with the war with Hybern and everything that followed, he clamped down on these thoughts, tried to focus on something else –someone else– until…

Until Eris was taken by Briallyn. Azriel’s alarm bells had rang non-stop and deep within his soul he had felt the powerful urge to save the Autumn Court heir. He couldn’t have stayed in the Night Court, it would have destroyed him. He needed to move, to act, to help Eris, no matter what it meant for them.

Since then Azriel has been left confused. Utterly and completely, because his whole body yearns for the heir, but his mind tells him it is bullshit.

And then there was the kiss. This stupid, fucking kiss. Some people might not even call the first one a kiss. Their lips merely brushed but…they met. He kissed Eris; and no one will ever be able to change anything about that. He kissed him. It wasn’t Eris who kissed him. But it was him who kissed Eris. Azriel kissed the Autumn Court heir. Out of pure desire.

Eris kissed him back the second time their lips met and he tasted of fire, passion and longing. His lips were too soft, too plump – Azriel has never felt anything like that before.

Quite a few nights after the kiss he found himself with his hand wrapped around his hard length, imagining what it would feel like to have Eris’ lips fastened around him. Feeling his tongue lick over his skin. Each morning, he woke covered in sweat and absolutely bewildered about letting his thoughts stray into that direction.

“I can’t like him,” Azriel groans into the back of his hand, eyes squeezed shut.

Early morning sunlight filters through the curtain-framed window, bathing the room in a soft, white glow. It is winter, Velaris most definitely covered in snow, appearing beautiful this early morning, but Azriel has no motivation, no energy, to get up. He wants to stay in bed all day where he can allow his thoughts to be loud and fill his entire brain.

But he needs to get up. He needs to do some work for Rhys and later go to training with the Valkyries or whatever is planned for today. He has no idea what is actually on the schedule today. He doesn’t really care much about anything lately.

Azriel’s throat is still too dry and he knows he needs to drink something, but his body feels too heavy to move. So damn heavy. His chest still feels too tight, his heart still beating rapidly.

Did yours see you for the bastard and asshole you are and got rid of you when you were still in your diapers?

Azriel slams his palms onto the mattress, tears lining his hazel eyes.

“This fucking bastard!” He shouts and punches his pillow a few more times.

What Eris had said, had hurt Azriel massively. But he had also pushed him to it, had evoked this reaction in the Autumn court male.

Azriel is not without fault, but he would never apologise. Not to Eris. Never. Eris doesn’t deserve an apology from him…

The situation is so messed up – why did he kiss his nemesis? If he hadn’t kissed him, it—

He can’t like him. And even if he did, Eris would never like him back. He hates him just as much as he does.

A shout leaves the shadowsinger and with the last ounce of energy left in him after a whole night of training, alone, on the rooftop, Azriel pushes up on his hands, eyes immediately falling to the marred skin of his hands.

Azriel sucks in a sharp breath and sits back on his heels, throwing his head back. “How could Eris like someone like me?”

His eyes close when more tears start to burn in them.

Eris Vanserra will be the future High Lord of the Autumn Court, a noble, his style immaculate, just like his manners, his demeanour, his whole appearance. He is gentle and polite while Azriel is—

“Eris could never like a fucking brute,” Azriel breathes. Eris would never like a brute. It wouldn’t suit him. It wouldn’t fit. They wouldn’t fit. Maybe he would fuck him, but nothing more. And Azriel is tired of only fucking. He wants love. He wants tenderness, passion, gentle love making…

Azriel shakes his head, finally climbing off the bed, naked as the day he was born, strolling to the adjoining bathroom.

The face that appears in the mirror looks even worse than he had imagined; dark circles are beneath his eyes, the skin of his lips is choppy and he needs to shave. So that is what he does and he takes his time doing it.

He remembers that he needs to go to the Riverside Estate in the evening, decorating for Solstice and the content of his stomach already sours at the thought of it.

He hates keeping things a secret from his family, especially from Cass. He wants to talk to him about it, tell him what he has found out about himself — Cauldron boil him, he even wants to tell him about the kiss with Eris, but he can’t.

He can’t look Cass in the eye and tell him he kissed Eris. Eris Vanserra out of all people. The person also his brother hates the most in the world.

And then there is the thing about him being alone while everyone else is there with a partner, their family, happily displaying their joy and bliss. And he, he will be alone again – like every year.

He has no one. No one he can bring to such celebrations and it makes him sadder than he could have ever imagined. He always dreamed about bringing his mate to the Solstice celebration, to Starfall, spending time with them. He bever thought that after 540 years he would still be attending those celebrations alone.

Azriel wipes at his tears, hoping his eyes don’t look too puffy and swollen in addition to the dark circles beneath them.

How wonderful, Azriel thinks, another day he finds himself crying, although he has told himself to never cry again. Never show weakness again. Never be vulnerable again. Another thing he failed at apparently.

Azriel exhales a deep breath and straightens up. He looks into his eyes through the mirror, and once again the spark in them is missing. In them, there is nothing but darkness. A void. A mirror of the emptiness deep within his heart.

Did yours see you for the bastard and asshole you are and got rid of you when you were still in your diapers?

And maybe Eris was right after all - he is a bastard, an asshole and a failure.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Az, come on.” Cassian chuckles. He kisses Nesta‘s cheek and lifts a bottle of wine, waving it around, nearly splashing wine onto the luxurious carpet. “Don‘t be a broody shadowsinger for once. Have some fun.”

Azriel chuckles coldly. Then his gaze lowers and without another word he turns away, leaving the family living room. He heads for the adjacent terrace and regrets it immediately.

It overlooks the large garden, which appears to be absolutely immaculate even in winter due to Elain‘s skilled hands.

He hasn’t seen her today, she hasn’t appeared downstairs yet. He has no idea where she is. And he actually doesn’t care. As long as she is safe.

Azriel braces his broad hands on the small and in snow-covered railing, the cold like balm against the inside of his hands. His biceps flex when he rests most of his weight on his hands, and finally exhales a long breath. Tendrils of warm air dance in front of his face, mingling with his shadows.

The happenings of the morning still cloud his mind like a thick haze. His eyelids feel heavy from a sleepless night.

“I’m sorry.” A broad hand clasps his shoulder and it startles Azriel. He freezes, eyes bulging when he whips his head towards his best friend – his brother.

Why did his shadows not warn him? Why did they not alert him that someone was coming?

Cassian wears a sympathetic look on his face, his hand a warm press, a comfortable weight on Azriel’s shoulder. He finds comfort in it.

“I didn’t mean to…bother you.”

“You always bother me.” The corners of Azriel’s mouth twitch and also Cassian chuckles a little, but then the look of worry and empathy returns to his face.

“What is going on?” Cassian asks in a tone he rarely uses, soft and gentle.

Azriel shrugs a shoulder. “I‘m just tired.”

Cassian’s thick brows curl, and he shakes his head. “Maybe you are tired today. But this has been going on for weeks now, Az. What is on your mind?”

Azriel doesn’t know how to explain, because he doesn’t even know exactly what is going on. What he is feeling. Too much. Too little. Nothing at all.

There is a void inside of him. A void that has always been there, but lately it seems to grow faster, stronger, until – what he fears most – one day swallows him wholly.

Both males stare out at the garden, smaller and larger snowflakes dancing on the breeze that blows over the landscape. Tufts of dead grass poke through the endless white that sunlight sparkles on.

Cassian blows out a long breath, then clears his throat. In a careful tone, he asks, “Is it about Elain?”

Azriel draws in a deep inhale, the fresh crispy air filling his lungs. He could lie now. Say that it is. But he decides against it.

Cassian is his longest and closest friend. He loves him like a brother. A good brother. Not the kind of brother he had by blood. The kind of brothers Eris had by blood.

His throat works on a swallow and he turns his head.

“I need to tell you something.” Azriel meets Cassian‘s gaze, but immediately wants to look away. It is not easy, this next step is not easy. Revealing what only he himself and Gwyn know about so far…is not easy.

Cassian was raised in the same environment he was and the Illyrians have prejudices. Have a certain perspective of how things should be. What a relationship should look like.

A relationship between a male and a female and a male and a female only.

What if he— What if Cassian will think differently about him from now on?

A single snowflake lands on the back of Azriel’s hand and the shadowsinger watches how it melts, a single droplet sliding down the side of his hand, next to the cobalt siphon.

Cassian is calm, knowing he needs to give Azriel time to reveal whatever is on his mind.

“There is something I haven’t told you.” Azriel’s gaze lowers. “There is a part of myself that I have hidden for a long time. I spent a lot of time away, working. I was alone a lot and had time to think and figure things out.”

Cassian dips his chin. He moves a step closer.

“I don’t want you to think differently about me when I—”

“Don’t worry about that.” Cassian clasps his shoulder again. “You are my brother, Az. We‘ve been through so much already. I don’t think anything you could tell me would make me think differently about you.”

Azriel isn’t so sure about that. Cassian has a kind, big heart but…Azriel has no idea what he will think about his revelation.

Gratitude fills his eyes, and a small smile nevertheless tugs at the corner of his mouth when he looks at his best friend.

“I figured out that I find both females and males attractive. And lately I definitely feel a stronger pull towards males.”

There it is. His secret, the part of himself that he has hidden for so long.

The revelation hangs in the air, heavy, thick. Or not? Maybe it is as light as a summer breeze, Azriel thinks when he sees the kindness, the understanding on the general’s face.

Cassian’s eyes widen slightly and then he grins. “And you thought I would think differently about you after you told me this.” The general shakes his head, his tone slightly reproachful.

“Az, there’s absolutely nothing wrong about that and I’m incredibly happy you shared this part of yourself with me.” He lunges forward and pulls the shadowsinger to his chest, hugging him tightly. “You are my brother, and I am proud of you for telling me this and becoming clear of what you are feeling.”

Azriel’s own arms wrap around Cassian, his chest heaving with a deep breath of relief.

“Thank you.” Azriel’s tone is lighter. A weight has been lifted from his chest and somehow he can breathe a little easier now.

When they part, Cassian pats his shoulders. “There’s also something I need to say.”

Azriel’s forehead furrows and he slowly dips his chin.

“I’m sorry for not being here as much as I used to be. You mentioned being alone a lot and I’m sorry for that. I know we used to spend basically every living minute together before, but—”

“Never apologise for spending time with your mate, Cass.” Now Azriel is the one to pat Cass‘ shoulder. “You deserve this. This time and joy with Nes.” A rarely-there smile blooms on Azriel’s face, sincerity lacing every word he says.

“But it is true, I felt alone a lot. But that is your fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault. But definitely a fear that I have.”

Azriel averts his gaze, eyes following a single snowflake that drifts down from the sky, slowly landing atop the railing.

“I am scared I will one day be alone. What if I never find someone. What if no one will ever love…”

“You?”

Azriel’s chin dips the slightest bit.

“You have a full house of people here that love you. You are part of our big family, you will never be alone.”

“But–”

“But, I also understand your concerns. You can’t force love between two people. You can’t force a mating bond, you only have to be patient. I know there is someone out there for you and they might even be closer than you know. Than you realise.”

There is hope and honesty etched upon Cassian’s features. “I know that love will find you, Az. And until then you have all of us who will shower you in it.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Cassian was right, Azriel realises. The void inside his heart about wanting a mate and a mating bond won’t fade or close, but he has people in his life who love him and who he can call his family.

People who bring him something very close to joy.

The little boy bounces on his thigh, playing with his thumb and when Azriel lowers his gaze, a small tear slides down his cheek. Well, this is joy.

“A-aaf.” It’s the best version of Azriel –rather Az– little Nyx can produce, but it warms a part of Azriel’s heart he thought to be long dead.

A shadow swirls around the little boy's head, sometimes brushing over his ear or his nose which elicits the most lovely sounds from the little boy and also makes Azriel chuckle; no, laugh, actually.

“Aaf, Aaaaafi, Aaaaaf!” Nyx bounces up and down, trying to catch the shadow, tiny wings flapping behind his shoulders, a grin spreading from one ear to the other.

“Happiness suits you.” Nesta sits down in the arm of the couch, her attention on her mate, although she addresses the shadowsinger.

Azriel turns to her, eyes slowly running over her.

There is a soft smile on her face, in her hand a cup, on her ring finger a wedding band.

“I can only say the same.”

She turns to the shadowsinger with a now big and beautiful smile.

Other than him, Nesta has truly found happiness. In Cassian. In Emerie and Gwyn. She is contented and joyful, and it shows in her appearance and in her demeanour.

Azriel wants to reach that level of happiness as well. He wants to manage it, to not fail again, but it is so damn hard.

At the moment, Azriel thinks, he finds himself in a hopeless place, living day by day without real joy, only small moments of it.

Of course, little Nyx makes him happy. But only for a moment, and that moment is always fleeting, over way too quickly.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“We decided to invite Eris to another Solstice Ball.” Rhysand moves his hands into the pockets of his pants. “In Keir‘s name.”

Azriel’s breathing catches, arms slacking to his sides. He hasn’t expected to see Eris so soon again.

And in addition to the shock another emotion bubbles up inside of him. Jealousy lies thick on his tongue – who the hell is we when Azriel only learns about it now?

Formerly, we always used to be them, Rhysand‘s inner circle - Mor, Amren, Rhys, Cass and himself.

But Azriel wasn’t involved, so who is we now?

Probably Rhys and Feyre…obviously because he has a mate now. A mate who he can consult with.

“It is a good opportunity for a meeting; one that does not have to happen in secret.”

Cassian grimaces and expresses a loud “och”. But Rhys ignores him, obviously, and once again addresses his family.

“He might want to dance again. Either with my wife, or—”

“Not Nes!” Cassian lifts a protective arm in front of Nesta, and Azriel almost wants to laugh at his territoriality. But it is the jealousy boiling inside of him at the thought of Eris and Nesta dancing, the sudden envy that blazes through his veins and leaves him utterly confused, that makes him stay calm.

No, Azriel thinks, his insides convulsing, his hands trembling lightly, I can‘t have feelings for him. Not for someone like him. Not for Eris Vanserra.

He can’t allow this. Can never allow this.

“Is it for show or because he wants to dance with me?”

“For show, of course. He knows you are mated now. But I can dance with him as well, if you’d prefer that. It would be proper that the guest dances with the High Lady of the other court.”

Nesta‘s takes Cassian’s broad hand into hers, her slim fingers naturally intertwining with his. “I love you, Cassian, more than anything and a spoiled, polished princeling won‘t change that.” She leans in to kiss—

Azriel turns away, eyes closing for a second. Fucking jealousy. He clamps down on the feeling, or tries to. But it is so hard.

Once again his chest feels too tight, his heart heavy with emotion, his lungs like they don’t get enough air. He wants to leave, catch a breath of air. Just get away, be alone.

But he needs to stay. Needs to listen. Needs to hear what will be decided on, so he can prepare himself for the ball.

“I will dance with him.” Nesta smiles. “If it makes him kill Beron a little faster.”

A chortle leaves Feyre at that and gratitude fills her eyes. "Thank you Nesta, you can always change your mind, if you don’t feel comfortable anymore. It is still a few days until the ball.”

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general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

#acotar #acosf #azriel #azriel x eris #azris #eris vanserra

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