#evil!lucien is here!

[velidewrites]

Lucien Vanserra has lost everything: his lover, his home, his friend. Now, on a Solstice night far too cold for the fire in his blood, he watches his mate slip away from him, too—right into the arms of another male.

He makes a promise then, to the stars who have never listened—he will no longer dream. From now on, Lucien is going to burn—and he’ll make sure the rest of the world burns with him.

Note: For @elucienweekofficial Day 6: Travel! This was going to be a long-shot but the plot ended up plotting too much and now it's a multi-chapter. I hope you enjoy this prologue!

Warnings: Sadness factory, Beron Vanserra (content warnings in later chapters!)

Read on AO3

Prologue

The Autumn woods hum a gentle song.

Elain wakes up to its melody, carried by the morning breeze. She’d never been here before—in Velaris, the season is dim and grey, even the Sidra losing some of its usual sparkle. She isn’t used to the splurge of colour, a spectrum of yellows and oranges and reds so vibrant that she can’t help but be grateful for her Fae eyesight, able to grasp it all.

The path she’d woken up on is veiled in what seems like a thousand autumn leaves, some of them bronze and trampled by hunting boots, some of them accompanied by large, heavy paws. The others, though, lay out a clear trail as they reflect the sunlight’s golden gleam.

Elain follows it without question. Without a shadow of a doubt.

She listens in to the soft crunch of the leaves beneath her own boots, strangely large and black, an unlikely fashion choice for someone such as herself. She dismisses the thought quickly, though, as a chirping bird flits past her—a new harmony in the Autumn song.

The quiet flow of a stream joins it eventually as she approaches it, each step quicker than the last. Her throat feels dry all of a sudden—as if the mere sight of the fresh, sparkling water had spurred the fire in her throat. She swallows the sensation patiently—after all, the sweet, relieving taste is within her reach.

Elain kneels by the stream and dips her hands into the water, frowning at the lack of the cool sensation she’d expected.

She tries again—and again.

The water never appears in her cupped palms, evading her completely.

Elain frowns and steps in closer, her reflection meeting her atop the flowing surface.

A gasp rips free from her throat—yet another sound joining the humming melody, sharp and unexpected compared to all the others. It does not belong here—she does not belong here, there is no question left in her mind about that.

She doesn’t belong here because the face staring back at here is not that of Elain Archeron’s.

She blinks, a golden, mechanical eye whirring with the movement. Elain gasps again, strong, powerful hands reaching to touch her face—Lucien’s face, handsome but brutally scarred as it ripples through his golden-brown skin. His full lips part in shock, his russet eye glints, and his auburn brows shoot up—the face staring back at her is, undeniably, her estranged mate’s.

Elain’s—Lucien’s hands begin to shake.

What is going on? those lips move, yet the question remains unspoken firmly in her mind.

Elain rises to her feet, though her limbs act without her accordance—they possess a mind of their own, moving wherever that song carries them. Elain realises then she is merely a bystander—she is not here to change, to enact, but to watch,

She is a Seer, and this is a vision.

Lucien’s reflection in the river ripples again, and his face begins to shift—the scars seem to sink beneath his skin, not even a faint, thin line creasing his cheek anymore. His face is smooth, as it used to be—long before she’d ever met him.

When she blinks again, the eyes change, too—they are a matching pair of russet, now, and though Elain knows these are the eyes Lucien was born with, she can’t help but feel uneasy at the sight. In their brief meetings, few of them as there had been, she had grown somewhat used to that golden eye, watching her closely even from across the room. She liked the way it caught the sunlight.

She has to make peace with Lucien’s immaculate face now, though. He looks back at his reflection one last time as he finally straightens—and Elain catches his arched ears perk up slightly, as though they’d just registered some sound before it truly even began.

He doesn’t turn, though—but Elain feels a smirk tug at the corner of his lips as the feeling of yet another presence registers for her, too. It lands somewhere behind them with a quiet thud—as though it had just fallen from high up in the trees.

Lucien finally turns, and the intruder comes into view.

The beautiful female has ivy growing from her tan skin, its stem curling around her limbs in certain places—her wrists, her ankles, parts of her exposed collarbone. The leaves of rich, blooming green offset her eyes nicely—two pools of tarnished gold, and for some reason, Elain imagines it shifts into bronze under certain angles. Her chestnut hair is a sea of untamed curls, falling down her back in loose rings, some of them tangling between the ivy stems. The veins beneath her wrists appear to be crafted from ivy, too—as if it grew directly beneath her skin. 

Her curves are wrapped in a brown dress that hugs her in just the right places—she truly looks like a goddess of the woods, having descended from the high trees to bless the world with her beauty.

And yet, when she finally speaks, her words stir confusion in Elain’s mind.

“Hey, beautiful,” she says with a wink.

If she only could, Elain would blink—but instead, she hears herself groan, a deep, male sound that seems to rumble straight from her broad chest. “Please, Jesminda—I have a reputation.”

The female steps in closer.

“Ah, yes.” She smirks. “Lucien Vanserra, the cruel Autumn Prince, feared by all.”

For the first time since Elain met him, Lucien seems bashful. “Well—”

The female—Jesminda—huffs. “No well. You know you’re the only one in your family with some semblance of a heart.” She angles her head. “You and your mother, maybe.”

A wave of sadness surges through her, one that is not her own though she feels it in her chest anyway. “I really wish you could meet her,” Lucien says.

Jesminda shrugs, though it is not carelessness that lifts her shoulders—she makes it seem like Lucien’s hopes and dreams are inevitable, like his mother is standing right behind him, waving at her with a wide smile on her face. “Maybe I will, one day.” She grimaces as she adds, “When your awful father dies and you duel your brother for the throne.”

The Autumn song seems to stop at that—even the river coming to a halt.

Lucien stirs. “You shouldn’t say such things, Jesminda. Here, even the forest listens.”

But goddesses do not fear the forest, and so Jesminda winks. “Then it’s a good thing I have my cruel Autumn prince to protect me.”

—

Elain wakes up with a jolt.

She looks over her limbs first—long and lithe, that hardened muscle nowhere in sight. Her shoulders fall slightly as her gaze moves on to land on her nightgown—definitely her own, a lavender lace she’d picked out recently while Solstice shopping on the streets of Velaris.

She looks out of her bedroom window—for a Seer, she’s not particularly good at navigating the darkness, but she can make out the plush winter snow as it gently floats down from the midnight sky, draping itself eventually over the cobblestone.

It is definitely her own bed she’s sitting on, too, the sheets a pale shade of yellow she had also picked out a few days earlier. Her racing heart begins to slow its pace when she finally makes sure she had found her way back into reality. She is a Seer, but she is also Elain Archeron.

She is a mistake.

Anger surges through her at the memory—anger, confusion and hurt—but she squashes it down immediately, too fresh to revisit just yet. Instead, she focuses on what the Sight has just shown her—on the vivid colours of Autumn, the familiar face and body she’d stepped into, and the unfamiliar presence crafted from the woods and ivy. Her visions have never felt like this—they have always been draped by a fog, the sounds and colours muffled through a wall of mist. And yet this time, she could feel the autumn breeze caressing her skin—could hear the song of the forest as though it was played by her own heart. This was not a vision—and decidedly not a glimpse into the future, considering Lucien’s scarless face and him being present in Autumn at all.

No, Elain decides. This was no future.

She had been pulled into the past.

She can’t quite wrap her head around it as what had to have been Lucien’s memory replays itself over and over in her mind, a strange feeling of dread building in her chest. Elain allows it to consume her, too curious for her own good to back out now—there is nothing else waiting for her there, anyway—only that anger, confusion and pain.

A quiet knock on the door eventually stirs her from her thoughts—she isn’t entirely sure how long she has allowed her mind to race—but she guesses minutes as her sister appears in the doorway, her own robe falling loosely over her shoulders as she wipes the sleep from her blue-grey eyes with a hand.

“Everything okay?” Feyre asks her.

Elain frowns. “I’m…not sure. Why do you ask?”

Feyre hesitates, and the pause only makes that dread in her chest intensify like a whirring mill. “Lucien just left,” her sister finally says.

A quiet oh is Elain’s only acknowledgement. When the golden thread tied to her rib tugs in protest, she adds, “Was it not expected?”

Feyre’s expression looks strange. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Oh.”

Those piercing eyes are unreadable as Feyre asks, “You…wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”

“No,” Elain’s response comes immediately and invites no further questions.

Feyre’s throat bobs slightly—as though fighting to keep back the words she so obviously wants to utter. Mercifully, she only says, “Okay. Sorry to wake you,” and begins to back away.

Before she can well and truly understand what she is doing, Elain stops her with a, “Wait.”

Feyre halts, her tattooed hand tight around the doorknob. “Yes?”

Elain looses a shaky breath. For some reason, she is certain the question will only be the beginning of her problems. “Who is Jesminda?”

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[fenharel]

saskia i am on my hands and knees begging for some ysabel info! what’s her backstory? what’s she like during the game? she’s so 🥰💖

[PERSONALITY]

Ysabel is a noble, Lolth Sworn Drow, living in Menzoberrazan and is a School of Divination Wizard

Shes an chaotic neutral ENTP, Gemini, 125 years old and 1.60m tall

Ysabel is creative and intelligent, mischievous and cunning. Some perceive her as quirky, eccentric - funny, confident with a giant ego, but also power hungry and selfish, sometimes cruel. She has always been full of ideas, always thinking of new and better ways to do things. She’s always been curious, more often than not you find her with her nose stuck in a book. Her childhood bedroom was exploding with books about fungi or tomes like “The past and present: a Scholars Guide to Divination”. 

She’s also rather extroverted and a social chameleon, excellent at manipulation and persuasion, something her mother often took advantage of, as she would often use her children like chess pieces in her political affairs.

[BACKSTORY]

The noble house of Do’Rahel is one of the 8 powerful houses in Menzoberranzan

Ysi has two older sisters (Yris, Yvory) and one younger brother (Ysmael, my warlock charlatan & very first D&D oc 😘)

Their mother (Yaelryn Do’Rahel) is a matron mother, a priestess of Lolth and a powerful and influential figure in Menzoberrazan’s affairs

As most intelligent people are prone to, Ysabel was more questioning of things like societal norms or rules and ideas than what was socially acceptable in the Cult of Lolth, something her mother often reminded her of through whipping. But her mother was also more progressive than some would believe - when her daughter showed more interest in the arcane than continuing her training as a cleric she encouraged it. She thought that having one of her daughters in the circle of the Sorcere was something that could be beneficial to her.

After a particularly nasty ambush on Ysabel (your regular weekend in the Underdark really) her mother assigned one of their warriors as her personal guard - a tiefling slave called Lucien (Side note but he’ll be romancing Shadowheart in a future playthrough 🤓)

Lucien was in his early twenties and enslaved for around 5 years at the time, he was passionate and charming, warm and strong. But he was also as cunning as he was kind. Ysabel liked him, and often would spend more time with him than was strictly necessary. He had Ysabel figured out quickly, and noticed that traits in her that might be weaknesses in her mothers eyes, could be his opportunity. That growing close to her could be his ticket to get free.

But things didn't necessarily work out for him at first as he would have thought - both of them fell in love.

He would tell her stories of his previous life, about his ideals and morals, about the world above. How children do not fear for their life where he is from, how parents love their children unconditionally, how he missed feeding the neighbors ducks before he would go to school. Ysi would laugh at him sometimes, call him weak and soft. But sometimes she would indulge in his stories. Catching herself thinking of them in bed before she go meditating. How strange it must be to live so truly carefree.

The influence Lucien had on her was undeniable. Small and meaningless at first maybe but there nonetheless. There were glimpses of true kindness in Ysabel only he got to see. Glimpses of love - real love, not just the craving for flesh or power he was accustomed to from other Drow. He saw that he had shaken her morals and beliefs, slightly perhaps, but shaken. So when she finally wanted to set him free out of her own volition, instead of running when his binding spell was broken he asked for her to come with him.

She helped him to stage his own death and broke his bonds and let him go, but she didn’t go with him. This would be a turning point in her life, something she regretted for the rest of her existence, something she kept thinking about for years on end.

For many years after, she buried herself in her tower. She never dared to think of why she said no, instead she sat in front of her mirror of memories, where she relived the time she had with Lucien. But in doing so, a part of herself, the past party in fact, was lost in it. Her present self was split in half. She was either overly good or overly evil, and she became known for being mad and for research and experiments that were even extreme by Drow standards. 

She was in this state for at least 60 years. She had short periods of time where she managed to stabilize herself through experiments, but it never worked for long. Nevertheless, she made a name for herself, she was an extremely powerful wizard, was considered one of the masters of Sorcere and had a place in their council. (Much to their dismay. Assassination attempts from her colleagues were a daily occurrence tbh.)

[GAME TIMELINE]

House Do’Rahel was infiltrated by Absolute cultists, leading to the almost death of her sisters Yris and Yvory, and the losing a handful of their staff members. Ysabel's mother also heard rumors of similar things happening in House Baenre and other houses all over the city. Sensing a bigger plot, instead of sending warbands like her colleagues, she only send Ysabel and a handful of warriors on a scouting mission. She was to gather as much information as possible. If she would see an opportunity beneficial to them - she should take it, and most importantly she was also to kill or capture any heretic or deserter of Lolth.

The trail they followed led them to the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate. She didn’t know it at the time but she was on her way to Moonrise Towers when she was abducted. When she woke up in the Nautiloid, the tadpole didn’t just strip her of her powers, but also stabilized her mind.

Being fully herself again after so long felt like having someone forcefully pushing a heart back into her. At the beginning of her journey she’s manipulative (she does a lot of the “heroic” options not because she thinks it’s the right thing to do, but because she thinks it’s a smarter way to uncover what is going on and/or because working with the Absolute would go against Lolth), she’s also selfish and a bit cruel, but a lot of things she does suddenly don’t feel the same to her anymore, and an top of that the problem with the tadpole - it forces her into introspection. 

At some point she realizes that her companions remind her of Lucien, and the time she had with him. Her development throughout the game mainly consists of her realizing that she rather wants love and friendship than pure ruthless power. She develops a consciousness, empathy. Something Lucien already built the groundwork of so many years ago. She realizes she was too much of a coward back then, that she couldn't let go of all that power and desert Lolth even though that's what she really wanted. Surrounded by her new friends, she doesn’t want to make the same mistake again. In her mind, she’ll never be truly good, much less a hero. But she doesn’t want to be what she used to be either. Seeing real friendship, love, experiencing it for herself, she realizes the only times she wasn't hollow was with Lucien - and now, with them. 

Her new friends act as mirrors to herself as well. She sees herself in Gale when he gets obsessed over the Crown, she sees herself in Astarion when he’s willing to kill all his former friends for power. And she sees herself in Lae’zel, Wyll & Shadowheart when it comes to the influence a God, Goddess or devil can have on you. They were all on the path she already walked on, and the guilt she is carrying with her over things she can’t change anymore is overwhelming, so she stops them all, helps them see what is truly important. 

About the reason she was in Baldur’s Gate in the first place, she isn’t honest with her companions at first, she has obviously her own agenda like everyone else in that camp. She was forced to explain herself by Wyll when she let True Soul Nere kill the Gnomes. Having a tadpole in her head made everything more personal of course, she starts going against the Absolute not in the name of Lolth or for her mother but for herself and her own beliefs in Act 2.

After the game, her mind is still hers. Going through so much change and admitting her biggest fears repaired herself, like a curse she casted and then lifted on herself. Also, she and Astarion guide the Vampire spawn in the Underdark for a while, and she also researches for ways to make Astarion walk in the sun again (and I like to headcanon that she succeeds :3)

If you want to take a peak, here is Ysabels pinterest 🥺, and since i mentioned Lucien, here is his'.

[dent-de-leon]

Lucien didn't become that horrifying monstrosity in Cognouza to become a God. He did it so that he could finally be tall 😔 /j

asksdgk ok but really!!! Lucien's first act as a newly reborn godling was to make himself 10 feet tall. Taliesin gave him the smallest tiefling body type when he made his little Molly in bg3. Even with the extra height from the horns, he is noticeably shorter than Caleb in animated Nein, which I love--

And on a much more serious and heartbreaking note, Lucien often went hungry as a child--I could definitely see that stunting his growth to some degree ;;

At least being shorter makes him the ideal height for Caleb to kiss him on the forehead and for Yasha to carry him around

[oscill4te]

IM READING AN OLD CRA/MP TWINS COMic abt i made like last year abt the twins birthday and im dying laughing atm

[yearning-for-autumn]

So, here is my humble request 👀:

Reader is afab Illyrian, got her wings clipped (because we hate this tradition that’s why and because I am too much into enemies to lovers) and the Bat Boys consider her something close to a little sister.

When Eris was making a deal with the NC to get their help to kill Beron and that shit, his bond snapped with reader.

Obviously problematic for him because he has been insulting Illyrians since his mom popped him out about 500+ years ago.

So…bonus points for: smut obvs.- go as filthy as you like, Lucien absolutely mocking Eris for FUMBLING desperately to get his charm going, reader being oblivious.

I hope this sparks some ideas and creativity 🥰🤞🏻

Would That I -- Part 1

A/n: This was too good not to make into a multi-part fic, so expect more soon. Smut will be coming!

Pairing: Eris X Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to smut, pining, mentions of mental health

Word Count: 3,638

Summary: You hate him. You hate the very thought of him. And yet he's your mate. The Mother has a cruel sense of humour.

Part 2 Part 3

Fury rippled through your body like a forest fire. You were livid. And Cassian had the nerve to laugh at you. Well, stifle a laugh. Rhysand was watching him with a worried look as he tried to give him a silent warning to stop. This progressed to warning him mind to mind when you got up from the sofa, flinging a pillow so far it almost landed into the fireplace. Azriel flinched.

“Him!?” You seethed, finally breaking the silence you had kept since your return from that damned High Lord meeting. Cassian snorted softly and you rounded on him with a deathly calm. Rhys made a small noise in the back of his throat.

“Is this funny to you, brother? I’m shackled to that evil, pompous, ginger-haired freak and you’re laughing?” His smile had dropped and a look of fear was quickly overcoming his rugged features. You stepped closer to him, your finger in his face. “Don’t sleep too deeply tonight.”

Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to accept the bond. We can make sure you never see him again.” The bond snarled through you at that and you growled.

“Sure Rhys, because you were so calm when you found out Feyre was your mate.”

His brow furrowed.

“So you want to be with Eris?” The name seemed to physically disgust him. Azriel scoffed, abruptly rising from the sofa and marching out of the room. Cassian eyed the doorway in his wake. You turned to Rhys.

“No!” You groaned in frustration, pacing up and down on the carpet like a caged animal. Cassian’s eyes darted between Rhys and you. Finally deciding to break things up he manhandled you into a hug. You fought it for a few moments, before giving up and collapsing into your brothers embrace, hot angry sobs wrenching through you. Rhys took this as his cue to leave, and winnowed—probably to his office—out of the room. Cassian rubbed soothing circles on your back, careful to avoid your wings that were ever more sensitive after the clipping.

You were clipped at thirteen, which is how you had come to live with the three brothers. In Windhaven, they clipped your wings the day you started your cycle. Once grounded there was no escaping your duties, nor any chance to leave the camp. Unless, of course, you had grown close with the High Lord’s son, who had a mother with a habit of collecting strays.

You were there through all of it, the highs, the lows, and Morrigan’s tumultuous relationship with one Eris Vanserra. The male you were now mated to.

---

In the Forest House, Eris was pacing. His throat was still sore from the memory of Azriel’s scarred hand, and his cheek burned from the slap that had earned him from his father. But all of that had been overshadowed. He knew as soon as he saw you. His heart had lurched in his chest so hard he had thought he might throw up. You were the most beautiful female he had ever laid his eyes on. And of course, you were from the Night Court. The Mother truly did have a cruel sense of humour.

You had walked in, looking as arrogant as the rest of them, sharing a secret smile with the shadowsinger before sitting down next to the High Lord. Eris, next to his mother, couldn’t rip his eyes from you. Your doe eyes, sharp and intelligent captured his attention first. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in them, to find out everything about you: What you liked to read, your favourite food, how best to pleasure you and have you screaming his name. He was pulled from his fantasies by your wings. Cauldron, your magnificent wings. Their beauty stole breath from his lungs as they unfurled, getting comfortable on the chair. You had smiled at Feyre, warm and supportive, and Eris knew he was utterly lost.

He finally stopped his pacing, locked inside his room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat there, holding his head in his hands until he heard the scratch of claws at the door. Getting up with a weary sigh, he opened it only to be knocked to the ground by his oldest and most loyal smokehound.

“Cheddar.” He chided as she licked his face excitedly. “Cheddar Biscuit.” He said, sternly, and she leapt off of him, waiting by the door expectantly.

“Yes alright, I suppose it’s time for a walk.” Cheddars tail thumped faster against the door frame and Eris couldn’t help the smile that grew. “Go and fetch your brothers and sisters then.” He said, grabbing the leashes off the wall. A walk was one way to clear his mind.

---

As you had predicted, Rhys was holed up in his office when you went looking for him. He barely looked up at you as you entered.

Rhysand’s office was always meticulously organised, but as you came up behind his chair you noticed how messy his desk had become. Letters and notes were piled on every inch of space, his childhood stuffed bat sitting atop one pile as a makeshift paperweight.

He loosed a breath.

“We are going to war, Y/n.” He said quietly, and any thoughts of Eris Vanserra eddied from your mind. Rhys looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. Guilt coursed through you for ever caring about something as trivial as a mating bond when you and your brothers were set for battle. You had only just got Rhys back from under the mountain, only to potentially lose him again.

“Is it certain?” You asked, leaning down to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Is Cass--?”

“Leaving for Windhaven by first light.” He answered.

“Ok.”

Rhys turned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He knew what you were thinking, though you wished you weren’t.

“Eris is an awful male, Y/n. You know I could never support the bond between you. Azriel is...well, I’m sure you already know.”

You did. The moment he had stormed out of the room you had known this was the beginning of a negative spiral for Az. Not to mention the upcoming war. You stood up straight.

“That being said.” Rhys continued. “Eris is ensuring Autumn allies with us against Hybern. There is a certain political advantage to the match.”

You scoff.

“Like there was with Mor?” Rhys turned green. “What did Eris bargain for in return for Autumn’s support? What did you trade away, Rhys?”

Rhysand looked every bit five centuries old when he turned to you.

“Our support in his bid for the throne. Whenever that may be.”

Hatred for the male burst anew in your gut, fiercer still now that you were mated to him.

“That power hungry bastard.” You spat.

Rhysand sighed.

“He could never deserve you, starlight. I will make sure that he never sees you again. I will not lose another sister.”

---

It wasn’t until midnight that you saw Azriel. The last of your brothers to approach you. He let himself into your room, waking you, tattered blanket draped around his shoulders. Rhys’ mother had sewn it for him years ago, before you had come to live with them. It had helped him through many hard nights. So much so that it was threadbare and faded. Rhys had enchanted it not to break further as a solstice gift one year.

You sat up worried.

“Az? Are you ok? You didn’t—”

“No,” He assured, and you relaxed against the pillows, “I’m ok.”

You shuffled over in your bed to make space for him, and he laid next to you, blanket over the both of you.

“I hate him.” He said into the darkness. “I hate what he did to Mor. I hate everything he stands for. I will not let him have you.” He declared.

You snuggled up to your eldest brother.

“I don’t know why you all seem convinced I’m going to somehow fall for this prick.” You said, and he snorted. “I hate him as much as you do.”

Azriel tucked you under his arm.

“I know.” You smiled tiredly, somehow understanding the words Azriel left unsaid. The words Rhys had been able to express. Azriel’s shadows settled over your heart, confirming, and the two of you fell asleep.

---

Months later, Eris sat in a tent, head between his legs to stop from throwing up. Thousands were dead. Thousands more were surely destined to die. Two of his brothers, and his mate, fought on the battlefield.

He only had a moments warning before he was violently sick into a bucket.

Asher, his youngest brother before Lucien, chose this moment to enter his tent unannounced, scowling at the sight of Eris hunched over and retching.

“Can’t handle the bloodshed, brother?” He teased, though he sat next to Eris and put a warm hand on his shoulder. The gaping wound on his neck was healing quickly, as it should with the High Lords power coursing through his veins, but the sight of it set Eris off again. He heaved into the bucket, choosing to ignore the gagging sound Asher made.

“Eris you need to pull yourself together. Father is only a tent over.”

Eris rolled his eyes.

“Just show me your plans, Ash.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m better off keeping them to myself, seeing as you’re battlesick.” Asher grimaced when Eris finally sat up and pushed the bucket away from him.

“Asher.” Eris’ voice held all the command of General, and eldest brother. Asher groaned petulantly as he handed over the plans.

In Eris’ opinion, not that Beron took any heed, Asher should never have taken on as much responsibility in this war. After Ceres had died, Ash had taken over as Eris’ right hand. Ceres had been more naturally suited to the role, Beron’s bloodlust had run as deep as his bones, and he had a sharp mind for strategy. Eris still mourned the boy he had raised—a quick witted, chess loving, boisterous child—but he had to accept, he had lost Ceres long before he had died. And Eris wasn’t keen on losing anyone else. Asher wasn’t comfortable with a sword, the gash in his neck clear evidence, and he had a wife and child that weakened his resolve. This is what Eris had to work with. And he had a job to do.

He let Asher discuss his plans, though he was unable to rip his mind from providing a hundred different ways that he could die, that Ash or Lucien could die, that you could die.

It took every ounce of training ingrained in him not to falter in his attack the moment he had caught sight of you, fighting your way through the onslaught, Mor by your side. Cauldron, you were ethereal. Your silken wings were spread as if they could carry you into the air, though he had long since guessed that they could not. You cut through your enemies with a frightening ease. Catching his eye, you hesitated just a second, then your face had turned to rage and the next Hybern soldier to cross your path had been beheaded so brutally that even he had to avert his gaze.

When he had looked back up, you were gone, lost in the chaos.

Asher sighed,

“You’re not listening.” He said, and Eris had the decency to feel bad. He looked at Ash wearily.

“Come back in the morning. I’ll be more attentive.” Ash just peered at him over his notes.

“It’s her isn’t it. It’s Y/n.”

“Yes.” Eris said, lacking the energy to lie.

“She’s Night Court. She’s not one of us. One day you’ll find a nice Autumn girl to marry and when you’re High Lord she can pop out a few Autumn court babies.”

“She is my mate.” Eris growled.

“Mate’s aren’t always meant to be Eris. It’s only a biological match, not a political one. When you find an Autumn Court lady you’ll wonder why you ever spent time worrying over some Night Court harlot.” Eris snarled, despite himself. His brothers words were wrenched straight from Beron’s throat and he wouldn’t stand for it. Not from Asher. Not from his kind, loving Ash.

“Get out.” He said. Asher looked surprised, and—Eris was pleased to see—ashamed. He made no moves to leave, so Eris repeated himself, sharper this time.

“Get out.” He snapped, “Come back in the morning with more sense.”

Asher, chastised, fled from the tent, and Eris buried his head in his hands. What use was there protecting you from his brothers when it was certain your own said the same about him. There was no denying the cruel twist of fate the Mother had pulled on the both of you, destined to crash and burn. He imagined you in your own tent, laughing at the thought of him speared on another males sword. Mor sat next to you whispering all the terrible things he had done that day, terrible things to twist your mind and poison the very notion of him. He was too late, he was nothing but soot in the deep pit of your heart, choking the both of you.

He felt blindly for the bond, and found it, rotten.

---

The war was over, but the scars it had left were red raw and bleeding. Rhys had died. Your brother. The one who had sheltered you, loved you, given you a home and a family for a few agonising minutes had been gone. Gone. And yet that Cauldron damned bond had been chafing in the back of your mind. You sat in your bedroom riddled with guilt as it plagued your mind. Eris. Eris. Eris. He infested your mind, your senses, you were consumed by the very thought of him.

Walking through the streets of Velaris had started to feel claustrophobic, being around anyone beginning to suffocate you. You felt safer on your own. Recently you had taken to sheltering in your room, only emerging to eat. Your brothers eyed you with poorly concealed worry every time you walked, ghostlike, through the house, shuffling to the kitchen to fix a plate of leftovers then retreat hastily to your safe space.

Nesta was struggling too, after the war. It had left its scars in all of you. You could feel Cassian’s heart breaking the day Rhys sent her away with him, but all you could think about was whether your brother would do that to you. You thought you knew the looks he gave you.

Disgust.

What use was a flightless Illyrian female, who couldn’t train, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. He was dead. Rhys was dead. And then he wasn’t. Why were Seren and your mother not afforded the same luxury. You grieved, and cried, and screamed. It truly was a sick thing, to use to the miracle of Rhys’ living to guilt yourself into believing there was hope for them. But then, everything in your mind had twisted of late.

Nesta began training. Nesta began healing. And you were stuck in your room.

Every morning without fail, Azriel came to check on you. He stroked your hair until you woke up, then retreated when you once again rejected his invitations to join them. The Valkyries, they were calling themselves. You would have been proud of Nesta if you could feel anything anymore.

Occasionally, you could feel a light tug on the bond, on the shackles that kept you bound to Eris. The first few times you had thrown up. Now it was little more than an annoyance. You were his dog, disobediently pulling your leash as you fell further and further into nothingness. His face in your mind was as cold as it had been on the battlefield as he yanked you back, choking you. You spluttered. Standing weakly, you made your way down to the kitchen, setting water on the stove to boil.

“Sister.” Cassian’s voice rang out behind you and you flinched, dropping your teaspoon. He bent to pick it up and set it down on the counter. “Azriel says you’ve been ignoring him. You’ve been ignoring all of us.”

You shrugged, the familiar pang of guilt squeezing your chest, making it difficult to breath. You braced both hands on the counter top, taking a ragged breath. Cassian was beside you in a heartbeat, holding you in his arms.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you. We all are.” He squeezed you closer to him, closer than you had allowed anyone in months. “Come and stay with Nes and I. Az is a terrible chaperone, and I need to see you. You could be wasting away down here and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

You shook your head, though you no longer knew why you resisted him. Your body melted against him, muscle memory taking over as he enveloped you in his wings. You swore you heard him sniffling as you hugged him back.

“Please, y/n.” He said, voice shaking. It didn’t take much more convincing.

A few days later, Rhys was helping you unpack your bags in your new room in the House of Wind. You took the room next to Azriel, who—Cassian had explained—was falling into bad habits again: Not eating, not sleeping, waking up in a cold sweat when he did finally drop off. Cassian wasn’t doing as well as he wanted you to believe, either. Twice in the following week you woke up to find him taking things from your room. And once, when you had floated downstairs in a miserable haze, you found him throwing up in the kitchen sink, an empty plate that had once held a batch of Elain’s cookies sitting on the table.

Nesta had dragged you to Valkyrie training a few times, and whilst you were beyond their current skill level, it had taken your mind off of things. Cassian’s eyes gleamed with pride everytime Nesta mastered an attack or a block. He touched her affectionately, he teased her, he lingered as she passed to breath in her scent. Watching them together was as painful as it was sweet. How simple love could be.

Would that you could be half as lucky.

Slowly you were emerging from your shell. You could smile again. Nesta invited you to read with her and the Valkyries, and in the silence you found firm friendship. Emerie was a gift from the Mother herself. You bonded instantly, both of you clipped, grounded, but neither broken. Many late nights were spent talking, about books, your brothers, or about Eris. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn knew little of the Autumn prince, but you appreciated their outside perspective on the bond. It was still a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was becoming more bearable with each passing week.

---

There was a ball approaching in the Hewn City and Rhys had asked Nesta to attend. Not long after, she asked you to join her.

“I can’t do this alone, Y/n, please.” She said one night, sitting at the end of your bed. You bit your lip, unsure.

“Eris will be there.” You said.

“I’ll be the one dancing with him. Rhys wants him falling madly in love with me. He won’t look your way, I promise.” Nesta said. You knew she meant well by that. You had never wanted him anywhere near you before. But something about her oath left a sting. You frowned, which she took to mean you were still unconvinced.

“Please, Y/n. My sisters will be there, Rhys will be there. I’m not ready to face them all on my own, not yet.”

And so you found yourself stood atop the stairs the following week, draped in a black dress with a slit so high up one side your whole leg was practically exposed. The back scooped so low the dimples at the bottom of your spine peeked over top. You were devastating. Death in midnight silk. Rhys’ smile was that of pure brotherly pride as you walked down the steps, your hair pinned in braids and curls.

Nesta stole your breath away as she appeared in the hallway, but it wasn’t your gaze she sought out. You looked towards Cassian and could have sworn he was drooling. Eris would be blind-sided by her, of that you had no doubt.

In the Hewn City, they danced like lovers. Nesta as dangerous in the ballroom as she had become on the training grounds. Every move was calculated, every parting of her lips a dance of the mind, designed to ensnare Eris in her dastardly web. Eris was caught. And you burned.

Standing next to Azriel, heat rolled off you in waves. He took a step towards you, perhaps to offer you a drink, but found something in your eyes to make him change his mind. You hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eris all night. He was sinful. A courtier and a Prince. His hair pooled over his shoulders, one strand to the front neatly braided. You reminded yourself that this was the male that left your cousin for dead at his Court border. Biting your lip, your mind wandered to see yourself lying prone beneath him as he stood, smile widening, cock hardening in his—

“Get me a drink.” You ordered Az. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the magic word.”

“Azriel.” You growled, and he turned on his heel. Your eyes stayed pinned on Eris as he led Nesta across the dancefloor in a tantalizing waltz. His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a fraction of surprise before his emerald eyes darkened. He licked his lips, eyes locked with yours as he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Nesta’s neck.

A/N: I have to thank @fandomsmultiverse for talking to me and giving me about 100 ideas to flesh this story out, I really hope you like it! There will be a part 2 coming soon! I wouldn't just leave you on a cliffhanger like that. We will see more of Eris and Reader interacting, and maybe.....some smut...

[arson-09]

Tamlin is actually such an underrated character in acotar. Because of feyres very biased narrative she forces readers to ignore the complexity of his character and man. its sad

Tamlin is a character who is genuinely GOOD at his core. He changed so much of the spring court for good, eliminating slavery within the spring lands and mortals having more protection. Hes a morally good character that made a few mistakes and is boiled down to just those mistakes. Locking feyre in the house and the magical/emotional blow up, which are both pretty decent fuck ups (i dont think siding with hybern fully counts as he was a double agent all along and tamlin was decently justified in thinking feyre was being kept against her will. lets be fr here) and even after he’s extremely fucked over by the nightcourt, his lands and court burned to shit, he still saves rhysand. Saves rhysand and tells feyre to be happy, even when he has every reason to NOT do that!

Hes a character that clearly holds himself to a higher standard. throughout acotar he puts lucien and feyres safety above his own, even sending feyre away when she was the only one who could save him. Even though what he did to her wasnt great its not completely irredeemable, rhysand did much worse things to feyre and other people but hes living his best life while Tamlin seems to find himself unworthy of being a person (acosf wheres hes been in beast form for roughly over two years) hes a perfectionist who now doesnt even think he deserves anyone because he accidentally hurt the people he loves most.

Sjm accidentally created a beautifully rich and morally righteous character who is so extremely fucked by the narrative. Which doesnt even work half the time as sjm cant seemingly commit to making him a full villain (seemingly by accident again she gave him quite a reasonable explanation to everything he did ‘wrong’ but still chooses to make him a punching bag)

If Tamlin was genuinely a morally evil character he wouldnt have NEARLY the amount of fans as he does. Hes a character that requires the minimum amount of media literacy and comprehension to understand and i LOVE him.

[bloomingdarkgarden]

Happy December, here’s every male from ACOTAR showing up at your door on Solstice.

Rhysand keeping it regal || Cassian keeping it slutty

Azriel is ready to be helpful || Lucien Vanserra is ready to be cheeky

Eris classy af Vanserra || Beron Vanserra stops scheming for the night because presents

Kallias bout to next level snowball fight || Tamlin obviously being emo on the holidays

Tarquin side eyeing the tomfoolery || Thesan drinking 12 artisan espressos a day by the fire

Helion ready to make akward sex jokes at family dinner || Papa Archeron finally in his helpful era

Jurian shows up extra as always || Varian dressing in solidarity with Amren

Keir ready for his eggnog

Hybern why show up evil when you can show up fabulous || The Bone Carver judging you for not eating his homemade peppermint bark

Koschei, the big bad daddy himself, shocks everyone not only by showing up but by being a solstice fanatic. He makes everyone sit by the fire while he reads holiday fables and does all the voices.

sorry not sorry, happy holidays you filthy animals.

[readychilledwine]

Edgeplay

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

Welcome to the side of BDSM most people are very nervous about. Edgeplay is an umbrella of play types that tend to push the limitations of safety and emotional and mental well-being. This type of play can be triggering, so consider from here forward a trigger warning for this one-shot.

Edgeplay is not for the faint of heart. The types of play in this umbrella include consensual non consent, blood play, knife play, fire play, more extreme forms of rope play, breath play, impact play with implements that are faster to draw blood (studded paddles, kendo sticks, whips, canes, etc.), fire play, gun play, extreme temperature play, orgasm wrecking, and one of my very hard limitations, scat play and water sports. It is not uncommon for these play types to leave permanent reminders of play for years to come.

This type of play requires a very deep connection and level of trust between dom and sub. Some of these activities can kill you, and in recent years, the excitement behind that statement has been romanticized to the point that they began their own subgenre of the spice and romance literature world: Dark Romance.

I will be honest, I was SHOCKED and gagged and then felt evil with how I planned this out, to have our sweet baby LuLu requested for this. It is more mild than had I gotten Azriel because I can not see Lucien being super into play that could leave him potentially scarred and I could not see him being the dom in a situation that would potentially scar his play partner. I hope you all still like it, though!

💕Peep the Valentines Day List Here💕

As always, NSFW below the cut

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

Warnings - male sub dynamics, mommy kink, wax play, rope play, orgasm wrecking and edging, breathplay, use of safe word.

Something about Lucien was just so pretty when he begged. 

Maybe it was the pouty full lips. Maybe it was the whispered desperation. The soft look in his eyes was a plus, too. “Mommy,” you had denied him seconds away from an orgasm again. Lucien's chest had splatters of wax across it, his hair a tangled mess from pulling it constantly.

He has asked you to push him limitations. You were happy to oblige. “What color are you, baby?”

Through wet lashes, Lucien looked up at you, lip trembling slightly. “Yellow.” You began stroking his head. “Just need to cum.”

You tutted him. “Yellow means we slow down,” you began straddling his waist, holding the candle again. “Do you not remember your safe colors, baby?”

“I remember, mommy,” his hands moved to your thighs, gripping them tightly as that first drop if wax hit his abs. He hissed and squirmed, a whimper leaving his throat. 

“Did you forget your safe word?”

Another drop had him groaning, “No, mommy.”

You smiled, spare hand tracing his fingers, “Did you forget the rule about touching me?” He only whimpered in response as you flicked your wrists, and his hands were tied above his head. You had taken his one comfort and knew that limitations were about to be further pushed and possibly broken. “What's your safeword, baby?” You had set the candle down, sinking in to him inch by slow inch, watching the rise and fall of his chest before picking the candle back up.

“Red or Beron.”

“Do you need to use them?”

He shook his head, “Not yet.”

You leaned in kissing His pouty lips softly. “Would you like to start again?”

“Yes, mommy. Still yellow.”

You nodded, beginning to ride him slowly and tenderly while dropping wax on him occasionally. You were purposely aiming for spots that were already covered, so he didn't feel the full effect. You watched as he physically relaxed, whines becoming moans of your name, pleading for more. 

You bounced faster, hips moving in a rhythm you knew he loved. You began pouring the wax on exposed skin while your hand went to rest on his throat. 

You were watching Lucien closely, ensuring he was okay as you began to bring him back to his high. His beautiful face began to switch every so often, pleasure mixing with pain, and fading back to bliss. He was so close, and you wanted to give him a reward, allow him to fill your aching clenching cunt with his seed and then snuggle him and clean up. 

But something was preventing him from finding that bliss, from tipping over the edge. Your hand had moved from his throat, resting on his chest instead, but he didn't relax, falling back into whines and whimpers below you, begging softly. 

You went to set the candle down, one last drop of wax falling onto his collarbone area as you did, and it happened. “BERON!”

You  felt the room shift, stopping all motion. “I'm going to get off of you, okay?”

Lucien nodded, tears forming in his eyes as he did. “I'm sorry-”

You hushed him gently, moving to sit beside him and reaching to untie him. “Do not apologize to me. We tried a few new things, and it was too much. You never apologize for needing to stop, Lucien.”

“I just kept waiting for you to rip it away again, to stop and.. and you didn't.. but-” 

You began playing with his hair as his hands found your bare skin, feeling for comfort, squeezing plush flesh to regroup himself. 

“It's okay, Lu. You're safe.. I'm so sorry.”

He shook his head. “I wanted to try.”

You began peeling the wax off, praising him as you did. “What can we do to make you feel better?”

“A bath.”

“Then let's go take a bath.” You pulled him off the bed, walking him to the bathroom, and began running the tub. “Let's get this wax off. I love you, Lu.”

He smiled down at you. “I love you too. Also, never realized how quickly my father's name could kill a mood.”

“So fast,” you laughed.

He smiled harder, glowing softly at the happiness flowing from both ends of the bond. “So fucking fast.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb

@justasillylittlegoofyguy @avajustreads

@littlestw01f @azriels-shadowsinger @acourtofladydeath

[robinette-green]

TW: Blood/nose-bleeds

How would Sun and Moon (both human and animatronic) feel/react to the reader having nose-bleeds?? Especially when it’s the first time they see reader have ‘em. As someone who has a lot of them, and quite frequently too, I have wondered about this, quite a lot

And I’ll completely understand if you don’t want to answer, this is (in many ways) a weird question, I’m just curious is all

I don’t think it’s a weird question! (I used to get nose bleeds a lot when I was younger so I know how it goes 😅)

Human Sun (Solaris): He’d panic. Depending on the AU, Solaris usually has a handkerchief on him and would fumble for it frantically before gently taking MC’s face into his hands and holding the kerchief to their nose all the while babbling about how everything would be alright.

“A-AH! Hold on! I have a-! Here it is! Here! Keep your head down! It’ll be okay! Promise! Did you hit your nose? What happened? Everything’s going to be alright! W-we’ll get the bleeding to stop and then get you cleaned up! Oh dear.”

(Meanwhile MC probably had it handled and is bemused at Solaris’s panic.)

Animatronic Sun: This Sun would also panic. Rays shooting out in shock before pulling in in destress. He’s got tissues for when the little ones have runny noses and would scramble to get them.

“DEWDROP! Y-you’re bleeding! I’ve got- I have! Where did I put them! Here! Oh! Try not to get any blood on the floor! Tilt your head forward! Come sit over here! It’s okay! Are you okay? It’ll be okay!”

(Sun’s biggest worry is you but he’s also a little concerned about any blood that gets on anything. It is a bio hazard)

Human Moon (Lucien): He’s panicking but doing his best not to let it show. Lucien would probably take MC’s face into his hands and look for any damage or distress before finding something to stanch the flow of blood.

“What have you done to yourself. Come here, let me see.” He’d use a calm voice and if MC was upset he’d provide forehead kisses and murmur reassurances.

Actually he’d probably provide forehead kisses anyway. His silly little starlight started to bleed out of nowhere.

Animatronic Moon:

I wrote a little bit about Animatronic Moon handling a Reader nose bleed in A Door You’re Unable to Close (though it’s brought on by MC slamming face first into a play structure)

I’ll slip that down below.

I cowered on the floor, hands clamped over my ears as Sun struggled and screamed, his shift over to Moon a painful one as Sun fought to prevent it.

It took longer than I would have liked to kick myself to move. Sun's scream turned into a growl as I forced my legs underneath me and scrabbled at the floor to pull myself into a run.

"You're up past your bedtime."

I didn't chance a look as I ran for the closest play structure. Moon's voice was as raspy and creepy as it was in the game. There was a faint red glow behind me, then with an evil giggle, it was suddenly gone as Moon, presumably, using his cord to lift into the air.

Dashing across the floor to the nearest play set, Moon dropped in front of me, and I had to skid to a stop and change directions.

I could barely see the padded floor before me in the dark, so I didn't see the kiddie chair set to the side until I'd tripped over it.

I was sent flying into one of the plastic walls of a play structure with a yelp. Smacking into it face first, pain rocketed up my nose accompanied by a metallic smell.

This was pathetic. I was going to be caught, and I hadn't even made it into a structure.

Slowly, I sat up, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as pain radiated from my poor nose.

A whimper left me as I lifted my hand to my nose and found that hot, sticky liquid was trickling down my face. Was that blood? Had I broken it?

Then Moon landed next to me, and I panicked, scrambling away with a pathetic panicking noise.

On my hands and knees, I dove for one of the tubes at ground level but got stuck, back hitting the top of the tube. I'd have to slide through on my stomach if I wanted to get any further, but I wasn't given the chance.

"Stop. You'll hurt yourself more."

Large hands easily halted my escape, snagging me around the middle and lifting me out of the tube and into the air.

"N-NO!" I yelped, covering my nose and squeezing my eyes shut.

Moon had caught me so easily. There'd been no chase; I'd just immediately put myself out of commission. Would he kill me now? Choke me to death like he did in some of the fan fictions I'd read? Maybe he'd take me to Vanny, and she'd kill me.

Tears were pouring down my face now, body trembling, blood dripping into my hands from my throbbing nose, convinced that this would be my end. I'd lost the game so quickly, and there were no save files I could switch to.

Carefully, the hands holding me set me down on the edge of the security desktop.

My eyes flew open, and I looked up, confused and scared, into red eyes. With a soft, comforting noise, Moon carefully pulled my hands away from my face. I struggled, but the animatronic was much too strong.

"Let me see what you've done," Moon murmured, his red eyes flicking over the tears and blood.

A flash of blue light blinded me in the dark, leaving me squinting with an afterimage left in my eyes.

"You didn't break it, but I'm sure it hurts."

I was having a really hard time processing what was going on. Moon wasn't trying to kill me. Instead, he was caring for me as though I was a small child who had had a tumble.

I did have a rather nasty tumble, but I wasn't a child.

Though I am crying like one… and my nose really hurts.

"I-if you're not going to hurt me, t-then why aren't you allowed to come out anymore?" I asked, voice muffled from my messed up nose.

Moon just stared at me. That was probably not what he'd expected me to say in this situation.

"Stay." He instructed before vanishing into the dark.

He didn't answer my question.

If Moon wasn't dangerous, why had Sun tried so hard to keep him contained? Or maybe switching between the two hurts, and that was all that was to it? But Sun seemed too nervous about the lights for that to be the only thing. I was missing something. Had something happened that made Faz co. forbid Moon from coming out with anyone in the daycare? That would explain the generators. But what had happened?

Hugging myself, I trembled on the desktop, adrenaline still coursing through my body as I came down from my scare, blood dripping onto my knees as I let it flow, not wanting the hot red gross to flow down my throat.

"Here." A paper towel was gently held to my nose, and I flinched, having not seen or heard Moon's approach.

"Head down till the bleeding stops, then we'll use a cold pack on your nose for a bit to help with the swelling."

Holding the paper towel to my nose, I did as instructed and tilted my head down. Moon was standing just to the side of me, crouched slightly, his face plate level with my head, as he reached up to rub my back with one of his massive hands comfortingly. The stars on his puffy jester pants and the little nightcap on his head were glowing faintly in the dark.

"Thanks…" I mumbled.

Moon said nothing, continuing to watch me, hand still on my back. We sat there in silence until my nose stopped bleeding, then Moon brought me the cold pack I'd been using on my shoulders.

[acotarfrustrations]

An ongoing list of ACOWAR grievances I'm keeping track of while I read (because there's too many to make a post about all of them) pt. 2

I'm on chapter 15 now and feeling the urge to complain again so here we go

1) the writing is way too overdramaticized. Like every other paragraph is some remixed version of feyre going "I wondered whether it would be eggs or bacon for breakfast. But when I looked at Rhys I realized that he was giving me my own choice. My mate, my high lord. In our home. With our family. Every thing was always my choice" and its CONSTANT, LIKE OH MY GOD GIRL SHUT UP

2) every thing about Lucien's plotlineand the elain mating thing. I HATE this subplot with a PASSION

3) feyre immediately fucking rhys when she got back instead of going to see her sisters

4) feyre and rhysand acting like they've ben separated for forty centuries instead of a month

5) the contradictions about how the high lord thing works. Like it was established that its a government position given to you through basically fate and being chosen by the cauldron or whatever which is why siblings kill each other for a chance for the throne and yet they just went to a priestess and swore feyre in as high lady?? It makes her title not feel real like it's purely ceremonial. It doesn't even make sense that she would be able to be HL of the night court as she has no more ties to that court than she does any other court. Is it because she's mated to Rhys? I don't understand the HL lord at all, it just keeps changing

6) the fact that Feyre, Rhys, and Cassian tell Lucien about their tragic backstories and everything that's happened to feyre at the NC and he just immediately does a Feyre™️. Like he's suddenly "Oh yeah you had a horrible childhood and took feyre into your found family without letting her explore relationships outside of the IC, that totally makes up for all the evil shit THAT IVE SEEN YOU DO WITH MY OWN 2 EYES. wow i cant believe youre not evil even though you killed 50 winter court children and sexually assaulted your mate and mind raped her constantly to get her to like you"

7) the way they're treating Nesta. It has been a MONTH since she was stolen from her home, brought amongst a race that she is terrified of and THAT ENSLAVED HER PEOPLE, and was forcefully turned into ONE OF THEM and the IC is acting like she's being unreasonable for not wanting to talk to them or to mate with Cassian. WHY THE HELL WOULD SHE EVEN BE THINKING ABOUT CASSIAN RIGHT NOW?? WHY THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL BAD FOR HIM? Instead of him worrying about how his mate is doing regardless of his own comfort he's like WOE IS ME, SHE DOESNT WANT TO FUCK ME?????? GET OVER IT ASSHOLE?? WHY IS FEYRE EVEN LETTING CASSIAN COME NEAR HER AND ANTAGONIZE HER?? DOESNT SHE LOVE TO FLAUNT HER HL STATUS AROUND?? THIS IS THE TIME TO USE IT, PROTECT YOUR GODDAMN SISTER FROM HIM? ITS SO OBVIOUS THAT SHE DOESNT GIVE NEARLY AS MUCH OF A SHIT ABOUT NESTA AS SHE DOES ELAIN!!

8) the fact that sjm didn't keep cassian's wings shredded. Him learning to live with that would have been a badass character development but now sjm doesn't want me to have good things

9) the mating bond in general. I think it could be a potentially good plot device but no one ever employs it well and sjm is definitely the most egregious with it

10) the fact that the ic never gave consequences for their fucking actions. Feyre dies in acotar? Turn her into a fey and give her ALL of their powers. Stealing a precious artifact that they didn't even end up needing and getting a bounty on their head in the summer court and then getting that court invaded? That's fine because feyre is SOOO brave and says things that are common fucking sense which makes her SOOOO smart so we obviously need her as an ally so we'll just rescind the blood rubies. Getting the spring court sacked? That's fine we didn't like them anyway. Rhys and feyre's bond gets snapped? Well they didn't know about our super secret mating bond that is actually the only thing that gives our characters chemistry so we still like each other. Rhys causes irreparable damage to every court for 50 years and kills 50 kids? Well that's fine he was being held hostage and hey! We don't know he actually killed those kids 😡 Feyre, a 20 year old girl who's been fae for like 6 months and training for even less goes up against thousands of years old beings? She beats them effortlesslessly! Rhys gets sexually assaulted for 50 years! Well he planned all of it so it has no negative consequences on him. Cassian gets his wings shredded? Well he worked really hard and they're fixed now 🥰. Rhys FUCKING DIES?? Well that's no problem, tamlin can just resurrect him, nvm the fact that there's no reason why he WOULD. like no harrowing situation is ever interesting cause we all know sjm isn't actually going to do anything to the ic

11) "my mate" STOP SAYING IT PLS IM BEGGING

12) "males and females" STOP SAYING IT PLS IM BEGGING pt. 2

[crazy-ache]

SJM is a Zutara Shipper? That sounds like Elucien....let me explain

It was recently brought to my attention that Sarah hinted in 2017 at being a Zuko/Katara shipper in the Avatar the Last Airbender series. This was exciting to hear as I was in the ATLA fandom over a decade ago and Zuko/Katara was my first OTP and introduction to fandom. I have loved them a long time and they will always hold a special place in my heart. I want to explore why Sarah shipping Zutara is really important when it comes to Elucien because there are a lot of great parallels.

Note: if you know anything about the ATLA shipping fandom/wars...you immediately know what she means by this. Zutara is a fanon ship that was often baited by the writers. Her disappointment is a shared, common reaction to the ship.

A very long, detailed analysis is below the cut. This NOT for ATLA discourse. This is intended to focus SOLELY on Elucien. Read below if you are a fan of Zutara/Elucien....

ATLA Characters vs ACOTAR Characters

Let's start with the characters themselves.

We have Prince Zuko, the exiled and scarred prince of the Fire Nation, who was banished after his evil, power-hungry father (the Fire Lord) horribly punished him for embarrassing him with his kindness (not wanting innocent soldiers to be used as bait in war), which he viewed as morally inferior and weak. It is implied his mother, a gentle-hearted woman, was abused in the marriage. She disappeared when he was young to maintain her husband's political power, only so that her children would live. The loss of his mother is his greatest trauma, along with his desire to go back home and gain his honor and father's acceptance.

Then we have Lucien Vanserra, exiled and scarred son of the Autumn Court, who had to flee after his evil, power-hungry father (the High Lord) horribly punished him for embarrassing him with his relationship with a lower-Fae female, which he viewed as repulsive and below their High Fae status. It is implied his mother, a gentle-hearted woman, was abused in the marriage. His lover was brutally murdered by the hands of his father/brothers and he had to flee, never having the chance to see his mother again. Losing Jesminda is his greatest trauma, likely along with losing his home, Court, and family.

Let's also not forget...they BOTH WEILD FIRE! I do think the Lucien/Zuko comparison is quite obvious and direct, where the Elain/Katara is a bit more symbolic.

For our ladies, we have Katara, master waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe. She is the youngest daughter of the Chief. She begins the journey as someone untrained and incapable of bending her own element, in a small, impoverished village due to the effects of war and destruction on their nation/culture by the Fire Nation. Her mother was tragically murdered by the Fire Nation in order to save her daughter's life. This is singularly her greatest trauma. Throughout the show, we see Katara become a powerful and master bender.

Finally, we have Elain Archeron, who was once human and is the middle sister in her family. She was the daughter of a once-successful merchant. She also loses her mother and is very close to her father, who she also tragically loses in the war. She loses her humanity and her fiance, Graysen, in one fell swoop when they put her in the Cauldron. This is singularly her greatest trauma, one that we see she has trouble letting go, even becoming practically comatose when it first happens. We later learn Elain possesses magic and is a seer.

A little less here, but I am not surprised. Katara and Elain, personality-wise, are very different. However, I will add that both Elain/Katara are often associated as symbols of HOPE in the narrative. But this brings me to my next point which is where I believe SJM was influenced by Zutara when writing Elucien....

Shared Grief as the Catalyst

Every Zuko/Katara shipper knows the crux of their relationship is from their shared trauma. Despite being on opposite ends of the war, they both carry an immense grief in losing their mothers to the war. It is the first thing they realize they have in common, the first moment they share a genuine, sincere connection, enough for them to reach out and open up to each other.

Elain and Lucien also have a shared trauma. They both lost their first loves/fiances. Lucien lost her tragically. Elain lost him in a brutal rejection. It broke both of their hearts, and they both carry grief and complicated emotions around it.

The hurt and pain brought Zutara together. As a result, they understand each other in ways others can't. I have no doubt that Elucien will spark from a similar place of understanding.

Complimentary Symbolism

One of the most beautiful parts of Zuko/Katara is the use of opposite/complimentary symbolism. Two halves of a whole. Balance and unity.

Zuko= Fire and Sun and Blue Spirit Katara= Water and Moon and Painted Lady

Lol can you believe we got the line below...I couldn't come up with a more romantic symbolic line if I tried and that's canon folks

Lucien = Day and Fox and Spring/Loss

Elain = Flowers and Fawns and Spring/Life

Elain, often associated with gardens and flowers and roses, was asked what she needed at her lowest point. She said "Sunshine." Enter Lucien, the secret heir to Day Court and Helion, whose name means Light. The Fox and the Fawn. Elain "Made for Spring" Archeron and Lucien "Spring Court Emissary and Courtier" Vanserra. I wrote Spring/Loss and Spring/Life because Lucien had to see Spring become ruined/flee the one place he called home. There is strong foreshadowing that Elain will help in some way to revive spring and possibly bring it back to life, hopefully with Lucien's help.

Let's also not forget that Elain was formerly human and now living as a High Fae in the Night Court. Lucien is a High Fae who looked down on humans and now lives in the mortal lands. It's an interesting dynamic!

Betrayal

Okay buckle up. This one is important. The feeling of betrayal is important to the development of both ships. Let me break this down.

Katara is a victim of the Fire Nation. Zuko is the prince of the Fire Nation who once hunted them down to retrieve the Avatar. She often conflated her feelings toward Zuko with her feelings regarding her mother's murder by the hands of the Fire Nation', as evidenced here.

Katara: I'm sorry I yelled at you before. Zuko: It doesn't matter. Katara: It's just that for so long now, whenever I would imagine the face of the enemy, it was your face.

We see these messy emotions come back when Zuko joins the team to teach Aang firebending.

Zuko: This isn't fair! Everyone else seems to trust me now! What is it with you? Katara: Oh, everyone trusts you now?! I was the first person to trust you! [Places her left hand on her heart.] Remember, back in Ba Sing Se. And you turned around and betrayed me, betrayed all of us! Zuko: What can I do to make it up to you? Katara: You really want to know? Hmm, maybe you could reconquer Ba Sing Se in the name of the Earth King. Or, I know! You could bring my mother back!

Now, at this point, we know she has not forgiven him for Ba Sing Se. Remember, this was the moment they shared their intimate connection over their shared Dead Mother trauma. (In an episode called The Crossroads of Destiny nonetheless). She offered to heal his scar, and later when given the chance to choose between what is right vs. what he wants....he chooses what he wants, which is to return home to his father for his acceptance. Katara took this as a personal betrayal and we see she still imagines his face as the enemy by demanding he bring her mother back (even though it isn't possible/he isn't responsible for it).

You know who else has mentioned betrayal?

For a long moment, Elain’s face did not shift, but those eyes seemed to focus a bit more. “Lucien,” she said at last, and he clenched his teacup to keep from shuddering at the sound of his name on her mouth. “From my sister’s stories. Her friend.” “Yes.” But Elain blinked slowly. “You were in Hybern.” “Yes.” It was all he could say. “You betrayed us.” He wished she’d shoved him out the window behind her. “It—it was a mistake.” Her eyes went frank and cold. “I was to be married in a few days.” He fought against the bristling rage, the irrational urge to find the male who’d claimed her and shred him apart. The words were a rasp as he instead said, “I know. I’m sorry.”

Elain associates Lucien's involvement with Ianthe/Hybern/The Cauldron as a personal betrayal. Lucien, much like Zuko, is sorry for his actions that have hurt her.

Both Zuko and Lucien don't argue about the anger/accusations of betrayal. They own it. They just want to make it right.

In the same episode of the snippet above ("You could bring my mother back!") Zuko and Katara go on their infamous "field trip" or journey together, just the two of them. Despite Katara's anger, the two of them are in perfect sync. They are the perfect team and pair, moving fluid in their elements, sneaking around enemy ships. Zuko defends her desire for closure (however dark it may be) against her friends and family wishes. He never questions her. He supports her emotionally. He yells at an enemy solider- "Don't lie! You look her in the eye and you tell me you don't remember what you did." (OH COME ON, what is hotter than that!?) In the end, she forgives him. Not because of what he did. But because he understands her and gives her space and places no expectations of who she is or what she should do. He accepts her. All the dark and pain and light inside.

Don't mind the romantic sunset in the background

Going on an adventure? Likely against the wishes of friends and family due to it being dangerous? Doing whatever is necessary to help the girl forgive you/trust you? Giving her the necessary space and support to do what she has set her mind to? Helping her find closure and healing along the way? Falling love? Sure sounds like an Elucien book......wonder where SJM got the inspiration?

Azriel vs Aang

I cannot write this post without mentioning Aang and Azriel. This is NOT an ATLA shipping discourse so please no comments regarding the Kataang/Zutara ship war. I am using this as a comparison to Elucien/E/riel.

I have a feeling that SJM has written Azriel (specifically in the Bonus Chapter) to serve as a foil to Aang's dynamic to Katara. Which is that both characters feel entitled to their crush.

Aang, the young hero and savior of the world, has a long-standing crush on Katara that is not really reciprocated romantically throughout the series.

When the group goes to watch a play based on themselves, there is scene where the actors on stage go:

Actor Zuko: Wait, I thought you were the Avatar's girl! [Aang in the audience nods in agreement.] Actress Katara: The Avatar? Why, he's like a little brother to me! I certainly don't think of him in a romantic way. [Aang in the audience grows concerned.] Besides, how could he ever find out about ... this? [Actress Katara and Actor Zuko embrace and hold hands while Actress Katara pops up one leg. Aang gets up from his seat to leave.]

It can be interpreted that his nodding and getting upset is attributed to feeling possessive of his crush on Katara. That she belongs to him, as he is the Hero and the Avatar, and should get the girl. He is jealous of something that didn't actually happen between the actors on stage (he is only 12 to be fair).

Further evidence here:

Aang: But it's true, isn't it? We kissed at the Invasion, and I thought we were gonna be together. But we're not. Katara: Aang, I don't know. Aang: Why don't you know? Katara: Because, we're in the middle of a war, and, we have other things to worry about. This isn't the right time.

...and then he kisses her, and she doesn't want it/isn't expecting it, and runs away back to the theater. We won't get into that here.

Hm, this story sounds familiar....

Azriel ignored the question. "The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another."

There is a similar sense of entitlement, that also ended with Elain running away from the scene, upset. The difference being he rejected her at the urging (and convincing) of Rhysand because he knew it was a mistake.

Tension & Healing & Growth (What's Next)

"There is a great deal of tension, growth, and healing to be found for both of them (together)." - from Sarah J Maas herself. If she was a Zutara shipper, I can totally see her inspiration in elements of Elucien.

In the end, many Zuko/Katara shippers really believed these two brought out the best in each other in the best possible ways. (I know I did). And I think that's a big reason a lot of Eluciens ship Elain/Lucien...the potential of how they'll complement each other is so huge.

Just as Katara and Zuko were once extremely tense in their relationship, they underwent an incredible and beautiful journey of healing and growth. One that ended in....Zuko sacrificing his life for her. Animated in slow motion with romantic/epic musical scores. For the girl who lost her mother (who sacrificed herself to save her daughter). An epic friendship but no romance....which Sarah herself agreed she wasn't a fan of....

So I imagine she is going to rectify that narrative for Elucien. I for one cannot wait to read their story in their book.

[sunnybyler]

so in light of some convos i’ve had on here today, i started thinking about if i’d be one of the people who would quit the series if the next book isn’t my ship. for reference, i’m an elucien girlie through and through (and i love gwynriel too). and my honest answer is….. maybe?? unfortunately probably, but not because i lost the ship war. oh no, that is something i am VERY acquainted with and can usually stomach. hell, half my ships are pulled out of my ass and never dated. i can lose and accept that and sometimes even learn to like the winning ship. no, my problem would boil down to one thing entirely: lucien vanserra.

lucien is my favorite character in the entire acotar series, has been since we first met him, and even with everyone shitting on his character in the last 4 books i never stopped loving him. and my main problem is this. i cannot fathom a happy ending for him if e/riel is endgame. so my problem isn’t seeing e/riel endgame on its own — even though the bonus chapter gave me the worst ick, i wouldn’t necessarily be FULLY opposed to read their story if lucien wasn’t in the picture. in fact i can see the appeal sometimes, i’ve even dabbled in some fics just for fun. but i just cannot see how sjm could pull that story off without destroying his character, ruining his life, or just straight up killing him. none of which i would ever want to read. (and do not even try and throw vassa at me, lucien’s happy ending is NOT going to be watching yet another of his lovers die). if someone new was introduced and his book was hinted at, i would probably read it honestly. though i cant say i’d be happy about it.

so, essentially what i’m saying is that if lucien is happy, or if it’s implied he will be in the future, i’ll read it. i would certainly not be first in line, i’d let my stronger lucien warriors read it first and decide if it’s too tragic or not. i try to have an open mind about these things despite having my own strong opinions, so i genuinely would try my best to read any acotar book that gets published, even if i lose. but i physically couldn’t make myself read about my favorite character suffering endlessly or turning evil out of nowhere, and that’s why i’m so hesitant to confidently say that i would give the book a shot.

[decadentpostnachos-evil-twin]

This is why you can't have a discussion nowadays. People's narrative being "My opinion is the only opinion, Idc what you say you are wrong."

Bitch Honey, if you can't deal with someone else's opinion, maybe don't post shit in the internet for everyone to see.

You can't put up with morally dark characters who are actually morally dark and not trying to justify their actions.

Besides, the worst thing we actively see Eris do in all of the books is saying that Morrigan dresses like a slut and calling Cassian some slurs. Plus we know that he left Morrigan at the border without touching her (what was he supposed to do, take her to Beron? Srsly, use your brains people. Please.)

None of these things were nice.

But how does this in any way compare to slaughtering a whole village of people for revenge (Cassian)?

Or better yet, to leave a head on a spike in the garden of someone else for shits and giggles, be a ruler for centuries and yet not manage to stop women in your territory from being mutiliated, even though you call yourself the "most powerful High Lord to ever rule" or some shit. Or SA your apparent future wife, also just for fun because he could have left Feyre in the cell in acotar and no one would have given two shits except for Tamlin and Lucien who would have been worried for her. Stealing millenia old artifacts. Threatening to kill everyone who doesn't share your opinion, constantly and therefore jeopardizing an alliance against the main enemy. Keeping mass destruction weapons in your posession without telling anyone outside of your "family" about it. Misusing your wife and mate as a breeder and not even informing her about the fact that she will likely die in childbirth, instead leaving your sister in law to sacrifice the brunt of her own magic to safe her sister. Belittling a man dealing with heavy depression and PTSD for really no apparent reason other than your own petiness, telling him he should kill himself when he's at his lowest AFTER he saved your mates life, your life and essentially turned the tide in a war. And I could go on.

How are the narrative and part of the fandom able to find excuses for Rhysand's fucked up behaviour over and over and paint him the misunderstood hero, but Eris is evil incarnate because he did what again? Left Morrigan at the border, most likely knowing she would be found and taken care of (at the ripe age of...very much younger than her, too, mathematics say) and called Cassian a brute.

"Good to know that after five hundred years, you still dress like a slut." -Eris in acowar to Morrigan. This is him saying she dresses like a slut. Not calling her one.

I'm not trying to make excuses for Eris here. He's an asshole, I'm aware of it, and the absolute majority of his stans are aware of it. But that's about it. So if you make some post about "abusive men", and include Tamlin and Eris, then reflect on what fucked up shit your favs did. Because if saying someone dresses like a slut and leaving her lying around injured but untouched by you (when you have no responsibility for her state at all) is horrible and abusive, I'd like to know what you would call all the shit Rhysand pulled.

On the other hand, I'd like to say something about Neris shippers being racist, because I don't see how? I could honestly care less for how Cassian looks or his ethnicity, this is about him having literally no backbone and treating Nesta like shit throughout acosf when she was clearly not in a good place, mentally. If y'all wanna be degraded for having ugly trauma I can't help you. I liked Nessian in acowar, they had potential. But acosf? Nah.

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: Hi loves! I am going to apologize for this one because it is basically just filler because the next chapter is going to be a good one(in my personal opinion). I have been in a chaotic-evil kind of mood recently and I got something good cooked up! However, I am sad to announce that I will probably end this story soon, maybe 2-3 more chapters. Do not fret though! I fully plan on writing some one shots, maybe another series 👀 That meaning, I got some good ideas for my future projects ehehehe! ANYWHO, I hid a harry potter reference in here. I wonder if y'all can find it! Tbh I hide a lot of my favorite movie quotes in my chapters. So far no one has picked up on any😭 anywho, enjoy this one before shit literally hits the ceiling.

Summary: You and Lucien wake up after your eventful night to have an early morning snack before your breakfast with the rest of the night court. However, can you and Lucien hide your growing feelings for one another? And most importantly, does anyone know what you two did last night?

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: profanity, potential grammatical errors, and LOTS of filler/banter

Word Count: ≈ 4,053

Chapter 9: Pretty Pink Bows

After a much-needed bath, you and Lucien decided that it would be best to get some rest. You both changed into your pajamas and crawled into your bed. Lucien was too tired to go back to his apartment, and with Elain’s uproar, he felt it was best to stay. You did not complain. Sleeping next to Lucien was always peaceful, like your soul knows his entirely. These were always your best nights of sleep with him next to you.

You awoke to the first appearance of light on the horizon shimmering through your window. Lucien was sprawled out next to you comfortably, hair slightly tangled. His chest falling rhythmically with every breath. Poor guy was probably spent from the energy he was channeling into you last night. You smile at the sight of him.

Without waking up the slumbering male, you slipped out of your bed and out your room. You walked on the balls of your feet through the noiseless halls, trying not to wake anyone else who is still asleep. You were headed to the kitchen to grab y'all some tea and snacks. After last night, your body was craving for something to fill your aching stomach. You're sure Lucien felt the same.

You finally reached the kitchen, the beautiful colors of dawn now starting to come to light. You grabbed a pot and filled it with water, knowing a teapot would be too loud. You placed it on the stove to heat up as you set aside two teacups. While you were waiting for the water to boil, you mindlessly went to the pantry to search for your favorite tea. You grabbed two teabags and put them into the cups. The water started to bubble; you decided you still had some time to scrounge for snacks. You cut up some fruit, cheese, and meat and placed them onto a plate. You smiled as you made a little smiley face out of the arranged foods. You walked back over to the water to see that it was boiling. You carefully poured it into each cup and set it aside to cool as you cleaned. Shortly after, you grabbed everything you prepared and headed back to your room.

“Good morning sleepy head,” you sang to the sleeping figure wrapped up in your sheets. Lucien mumbled something you couldn’t comprehend as he still lay there asleep. You rolled your eyes, “Jackass.”

A smile crept up onto your face as you sat your breakfast aside, “This is your last warning, Lu.” A moment of silence passes, and you shook your head, “So be it!”

You jump onto your bed like a child on solstice, the sudden motion startling Lucien. He jolted awake as you kept jumping up and down in a fit of giggles at his reaction, “Wakey wakey Lucy!”

“You are a jackass,” he mumbled as he shook his head and threw himself back onto his pillow. You laughed at his choice of vocabulary because you threw that same word at him earlier.

“Am I still a jackass if I said that I got up early to get us some tea with a complimentary charcuterie plate?”

“What a big word for how early it is,” he smiled at you as he ran his hand through his hair, fingers getting stuck in some tangles. He groans in frustration, you laughed.

“Your hair looks like a bush on fire,” you chuckle as you grabbed your hairbrush and gestured to his hair, “May I?” All Lucien could do was nod, still not completely awake yet. He leaned up allowing you to slot yourself behind him, his muscled back pressed against your chest.

“You’re not tender headed, are you?” You slowly started to brush the ends of his hair first, Lucien hummed at the feeling.

“Obviously not when you were the one tugging at it last night.” You could feel the smirk on his face without even having to look, you pulled the brush a little harder through a knot at the comment.

“Ouch!” He turned around to look at you over his shoulder. You gave him an innocent smile.

“Oops- sorry, the brush slipped,” you halfheartedly apologized as you continued brushing his hair. “You should let me braid it!”

Lucien laughed, “And what’s next? A huge pink bow?”

“Obviously-” you said as you brushed out the last section you were working on and moved on to start braiding his hair.

“Good gods you're going to get me made fun of,” he sighed as his body relaxed at the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

“Anyone who makes fun of you is just jealous of how good you’ll look,” your voice vibrating through Lucien’s back. You worked quietly as you braided his hair into Dutch braids and pinned the ends in a low bun, Lucien just sat there marveling your presence and how close you two were now. Your breath hitting his neck sent goosebumps across his entire body. His body was betraying him from the feeling of you pressed against him.

“Turn around please,” you asked him. He happily obliged as you both shuffled around to a comfortable spot facing one another. You scooted closer to him to pull out some hairs to frame his gorgeous face. Your brows furrowed in concentration as you bit your lip, scared if you pulled too much it will mess the braid up.

Lucien just watched you. His eyes roamed your face while you were distracted with his hair. Having you this close he was able to study every detail. You were astonishingly beautiful. Your captivating eyes that sparked whenever you smiled, your nose that was sprinkled in tiny sunspots, your beautiful rosy cheeks, and gods, your kissable lips that he could never get enough of. He couldn’t look away, not with the way you bit your bottom lip. All he could think about was what it would be like to kiss you again…

“All done,” you smiled as you looked at your work.

Lucien’s eyes glanced up to meet yours, “Thank you.”

You looked back at him, just now noticing how close your faces were. Your cheeks flushed as you let out a small breath, “you’re welcome.”

You did not dare move, not with the way Lucien eyes kept dipping down to your lips. There is something so intimate about the way he was looking at you, and you thought to yourself every kiss you two shared was heated and an act of lust. You and Lucien had never shared a legitimate kiss before. That thought alone sent nerves through your body. Could he actually have feelings for you? Because the way he is looking at you right now makes you feel like you're not just a hookup anymore, that you're something much more.

“Lucien-” you glanced at his lips as you sucked in a breath. Your nose was now brushing against his. One of you had leaned in. You didn’t know if it was you, him, or both but at this moment neither of you cared. You didn't care as his breath kissed your cheeks with warmth causing more of a blush. You two should not be doing this! Friends don’t kiss. This is so wrong, but gods did nothing ever feel so right. Just as your lips brushed against his, it was like Lucien snapped out of a trance at the touch. WHAT IN THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!

He nervously coughed, “I’m hungry, what about you?” He got off the bed and grabbed the tray you prepared; the tea was now room temperature.

“Oh yeah! I'm starving,” you shook your head trying to clear your mind of the moment he abruptly put an end to. Shit- are you disappointed? This cannot be happening, he’s just a friend! You’re mated to Azriel for gods sake!

“Tea got cold, but everything looks lovely y/n,” he politely thanked you as he grabbed each teacup to rewarm them. “The smiley face is a nice touch.”

“You’re welcome, I thought it was cute! Now, bon appétit,” you smiled. You both were hungrier than you thought. You both devoured the platter you had prepared in minutes as you sipped on tea. The once cute smiley face now nothing but crumbs.

“Such a shame we destroyed the smile though,” he laughed as he downed the rest of his tea.

“At least we made a happy plate right?” you said as you finished your own cup.

“Always the cleaver one in the mornings,” he smiled at you as he gathered his clothes off the floor to get dressed. You figured you would do the same as you pulled out a long skirt and a plain shirt from your dresser. You took a quick look in the mirror and ran your brush through your hair a couple of times before putting it up in a messy bun.

“Ready?” You glanced at him as he was looking at himself in the mirror.

“Hell yeah I am, I’m ready to show off this new dew! This looks really good y/n” he exclaimed as he kissed you atop the head.

“Can I please, please, please add a bow?” you stuck out your lip.

“Absolutely not,” he said as he opened the door for you.

“Are you sure? It would make it look even better,” you wiggled your brow at him as you walked past him through the door.

“Yes, I am sure. If Feyre caught me with that, she would never let me live it down.”

“That’s actually a fair statement,” you laughed as he shut your door.

Just as he turned around Lucien’s gaze went to your wrists, his mouth turning upwards into a wicked smile, “y/n?”

“What?” You looked at him confused as he tilted his head in emphasis to look where he was. You followed his gaze, and your eyes were met with faint red rings around both of your wrists. Tendrils of flame still remnant. “Oh. My. Mother. Above-” was all you could say as you traced your wrists gently. They were beautiful in a way you could not describe...

“Is it obvious?” You looked at him worriedly as you stuck them out for him to see. Pain struck his features like you were ashamed of what you two had done. However, you were only scared of Elain and Azriel noticing them.

“When you do that, yes,” he chuckled. “Here, I can glamour it for you,’ he grabbed your wrists, ‘Such a shame to get rid of my beautiful work.” His grip on your wrists made you blush as you slowly watched the marking go away.

“Thank you,” you breathed closely analyzing your wrists to make sure all proof of last night was officially gone. Lucien still had a pained look on his face but hiding it with wit.

“You should really get those tattooed, they look too good on you to hide it,” he mused as he started to walk to the lingering voices echoing through the halls.

“Maybe you should do that to me more often then,” you clapped back with a wink as you followed.

He shot you a playful smile as he grabbed your wrist gently, “You want more my little fireling?”

That’s a new nickname, you thought. The possessiveness of it shook your core. You tried to hide your liking for it, as you shot him a cheeky smile and walked into the room that your friends were gathered in. Everyone gathered around the room waiting for breakfast. The table set with plates, silverware, and glasses of water.

“Morningggggg,” Mor smirked, leaning against the wall with a cup of tea in her hands. Her eyes gleaming with a knowing look as she dramatically sipped her tea with a wink sent your way.

You look at her confused, “Good morning to you too Mor.”

“Ah good, y/n! We are about to eat breakfast, still waiting for a couple others to join us.” Feyre smiled at you. Her gaze met Lucien’s as he walked into the room shortly after. “Oh, good to see you’re up Lucien, come sit!”

Everyone soon began to make their way to their seats. Mor nudged her elbow in your hip as she whispered, “You are going to tell me everything!”

You hissed, “Yes, but can’t a girl eat first!”

You looked around the room to find Rhysand and Feyre seating themselves at the head of the table. Cassian pulling out the chair next to Rhysand as Nesta chose the one beside her mate. Mor sat beside Feyre, shooting a look to sit next to her so you two could gossip. You rolled your eyes as you sat down with her. Lucien felt awkward being the last one standing, not really having a specific spot at the table. It was either sit next to Nesta, his body trembled at that thought, or sit next to you. He shot you a smile as he gracefully pulled out the chair next to you.

“Where’s Amren?” you asked.

“Went home already, last night was more than enough socializing for her,” Rhysand said with an understanding.

“Gotcha,” you nodded as you sipped some water.

“So, how did everyone sleep?” Mor asked with a smile, obviously up to something, as everyone murmured “good.”

With you occupied with your water and not answering previously, Mor directly asked you this time.

“You sleep okay y/n?” She wiggled her brow slightly as you choked on your water from remembering what kept you up in the early morning hours. Everyone’s eyes looked at you with worry from your choking, but you gave them a thumbs up and a scratchy, “I'm okay!”

“Sorry, the water went down wrong. I slept okay,” you said through small coughs, your face flushed from your thoughts and from coughing. Lucien pats your back reassuringly.

“And what about you Lucien?” Mor asked. You glared at her as he kept patting your back.

“Just fine Mor,” he deadpanned. Not revealing a single thing about either of your nights. Mor hummed, unsatisfied with your answers.

“Where the hell is Az?! I am fucking hungry,” Cassian muttered in frustration. Lucien’s hand stilled at the name. You looked around and noticed the shadowsinger was not here.

“Would you just be patient for once in your life,” Nesta quipped.

“I am sure he will be here soon Cass, along with Elain.” Rhysand said, amused at that neither of them are here yet. You and Lucien shared a mutual glance of, “Oh fuck.”

You mouthed to him, “Do you think they are together?” He gave you a curt nod. His breathing becoming long inhales and exhales as he tried to calm the storm raging within him at the thought of them together again. You could sense his battle and grabbed his hand reassuringly.

“It will be okay,” you mouthed to him once again as the others were engrosed in a conversation about gods knows what. He pursed his lips into a thin line as he rubbed his temples.

“You okay Lucien?” Feyre asked. He looked up at her, and he could tell she knew what was wrong. She was the only other person besides you that knew him, truly knew him.

“Yes, sorry! My head just hurts from this new hairstyle. I'm not entirely used to it yet.” He smiled at her. She knew he lied to cover up what he was truly feeling from the others, so she went with it.

“I understand. I am sure all of us long haired people have experienced the feeling,” she grinned, “It looks good though!”

“Thank you,” you and Lucien said at the same time. You both glared at each other.

“What do you mean by ‘Thank you,’ I am the one who she complimented,” Lucien said.

“Yes, but I am the one who did it! You would not have gotten complimented if it weren’t for me,” you stuck your tongue out.

“You braided his hair?” Mor looked at you. Only then did you realize what you had just exposed. You had to divert! Lucien only looking at you playfully with what you were going to say about the situation now.

“Yes, I ran into Lucien earlier this morning when I snuck to the kitchen to make myself some tea. Neither of us could sleep with what’s going on, so we just stayed up together in the library until you all woke up,” you shrugged. Was that a good enough cover up? You prayed it was, as Lucien just nodded his head as he drank from his cup.

“Can you do that to my hair?” Cassian asked.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because I like it, and it will keep it out my face while I eat,” he said.

“Why not ask me?” Nesta said.

“Because I know you will say no,” Cassian shrugged his shoulders.

“Fair,” Nesta replied as you got out your chair and rounded the table to the other side.

“I wish I had long hair,” Rhys pouted.

“No, you don't,” Feyre said as she patted his shoulder as you stood behind Cassian's chair and started braiding. Everyone began talking about their mornings, chattering back and forth. Every now and then Cassian would move too much, and you would have to push him back in the chair.

“Sit still Cass or you’ll mess it up!” You rolled your eyes at the restless male.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as you continued with his hair.

Mor began talking about having the group do something together to bond after all that’s happened. Everyone at the table agreed except for Rhysand. You looked at him as you finished braiding one side of Cassian's head. It looked like he was deep in thought. He wasn’t talking to Feyre because her and Mor were bouncing group ideas off each other. Cassian, Nesta, and Lucien listened to their conversation, so he wasn’t relaying anything to them either. What could he be thinking about, you wondered.

Suddenly, his gaze snapped to you. Those piercing violet eyes assessing you. You were just now braiding the other side of Cassian’s head.

“What? Does it look bad or something?” you asked.

Rhys shook his head, “No it looks fine, but I cannot help but sense something off about you y/n.” His eyes twinkled as they took a quick glance at your hands. You followed his gaze. He was looking at your hands! Did the glamour wear off?! You panicked, you looked at your wrists while braiding Cassian's hair and saw no swirls of flame. What the fuck is he on about then?

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” you finished the braid you were working on and began to put them together into a high bun. Those always looked best on Cassian.

“Oh really? Y/n, you must forget I am a high lord. I can sense ALL magic,” he put major emphasizes on the word all. Just then it hit you. Rhysand is a high lord. Your high lord, and the most powerful one at that. He can sense all magic… even glamours.

You shot him a look as you tried to keep your hands focused on Cassian’s bun. All Rhysand did was smile at you as you felt the familiar caress of claws on your mental shield. “You have a glamour on, don’t you?” he spoke to you in your head.

“Get out my head you prying prick,” you thought outside your walls.

“What are you hiding y/n?” he purred. His claws once again cascading down your shields.

“Cassian do you have a hair tie?” you asked as he mindlessly handed you one, you were now securing his hair.

“I am serious Rhys, get out of my head,” you thought back, but he kept his presence in your head as he crossed his arms at the table. If you kept yourself occupied with Cassian’s hair and maybe he will go away.

“I am not going until you tell me why you are glamoured. What are you hiding y/n?” His voice felt foreign in your mind, but he was still respectful. The power and information he has on you right now was overwhelming. You could feel your shields slipping at it. You tried to re-ground yourself with the feeling of Cassian’s hair, but you ended up giving into Rhysand. He already knows everything. You could trust him. The people you were hiding from aren’t even here. You let your shield down to show him the image of your wrists. You could see his eyes lighten in surprise as his cheeks grew a shade darker.

“I told you not to pry,” you thought inside your mind.

“He can do that?” he thought back to you in shock.

“Yes,” you thought back.

You bit your lip slightly as you started to reminisce about it, completely forgetting your shields were still down. Rhysand seeing everything before you could stop it. You quickly finished securing Cassian’s hair before you clapped him on the shoulder with an “All done!”

“WOAH!” Rhysand shouted out loud at the images of you and Lucien flashing through your mind, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. You slammed your shields backup in an instant. Rhysand’s face now completely pink.

“What?” Cassin asked confused as Rhysand coughed.

Please come up with something good Rhys... you thought.

“Nothing! Your hair just looks really good like that brother,” Rhysand mused.

“Awe Rhysie Poo- am I so handsome with this hair that it made you blush?” Cassian got up to smother Rhys in a hug.

“Yes, it’d be even better with a bow!” Rhys laughed as he bopped Cassian’s newly braided bun.

“That’s what I think too, but Lucien said no!” You tried to remain calm and continue as normally as possible as you made your way back to your seat. Thank fuck for Rhysand coming up with a cleaver cover up story.

Lucien shrugged, “It would not go well with my outfit.” Everyone at the table laughed.

Rhysand couldn’t look at you or the male without blushing. He has seen too much, but gods it was true everyone undermined the autumn court male’s power in the bedroom.

“What’s got everyone in such a good mood?” Elain asked sweetly as she entered the room with Azriel at her side. Lucien imediently tensed at the sight of them together. You on the other hand were ready to strike at any given moment, scared she might attack you for sitting next to Lucien.

“Rhysand got all hot and bothered over my new hairstyle Y/n did for me,” Cassian boomed as Elain blushed uncomfortably at his words. Azriel laughed at his brothers, your heart skipping a beat at the sound. Damn thing always betraying you when he's around.

“Well I'll be dammed Rhys, you’re picking favorites now?” Azriel smirked as he pulled Elain’s chair out for her beside Nesta.

“Absolutely not! This-” his hands wave around Cassian’s hair, “just threw me off guard! I’m so used to his hair being all up in his face,” Rhysand said as he watched Azriel sit next to Elain.

“It is rather nice to see your face again Cass,” Feyre teased and he glared at her, “Now that everyone is here, let’s eat!”

At the snap of her fingers the entire table was filled with all sorts of breakfast foods. From fresh fruits to eggs and bacon, the table had it all.

“Thank fuck-” Cassian said as he started to pile food onto his plate, everyone following suit. Filling their plates with whatever they pleased.

“Good morning, Elain, how did you sleep?” Lucien asked her as he buttered a bagel, not really hungry after your snack earlier. Azriel smiled at the question, and your blood boiled. You knew that smirk all too well. Lucien had that same smirk when Mor asked about why you braided his hair. Something happened between them and you were dead set on finding out about it.

Elain’s sweet stature faltered for a moment before she recomposed herself and answered, “I slept good.”

“That’s good to hear,” Lucien said awkwardly not expecting the conversation to be that short.

“Good going dude,” you whispered to him.

“I’d like to see you try-” you kicked him under the table. “Ouch-”

“Shut your mouth before I do it for y-” he kicked you back, you glared at him as you rubbed your shin. “Ass-” before you could finish your name calling Mor interrupted you, Lucien only laughed.

“So, Feyre and I were discussing about having a group bonding day today. Everyone else agreed to it, what do you think Azriel?” Mor asked.

“Sounds fine,” he said blandly as he took a bite of eggs as Elain spoke beside him.

“I think that’s a great idea Mor!”

“Okay so it is settled! We will have a group bonding session today!” Mor said as she raised her glass of water and drank it.

"This outta be interesting," Rhysand said with a smile.

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[shadowqueenjude]

“I risked my neck for you during your task. Was that not enough?” His metal eye whirred softly. “You offered up your name for me—after all that I said to you, all I did, you still offered up your name. Didn’t you realize I would help you after that? Oath or no oath?”

I really don't think everyone understands how significant a moment this was for the Feyre-Lucien relationship. Even if I don't agree with this take, there is an argument to be made that everything Lucien did for Feyre before was only for Tamlin. But the moment Feyre offered her name in exchange for his life? Lucien's loyalty wasn't just to Tamlin anymore; it was to her. That means saying, "TO YOUR LEFT!" taking the whipping, coming back to see how she's doing, all that? That was for Feyre, not Tamlin. This applies in ACOMAF too. Why do you think he told Feyre not to ask him to pick? Because his loyalty is to both now. Him pleading with Tamlin to let her train? For her. Him hiding the engagement ring? For her. Him seeking a way out of the Night Court bargain? For her. All of it. Him trying to bring her back from Night? FOR HER. Y'all forget nobody is supposed to know that the Night Court is not really "evil." “I did it for you, too, you know.” Cold, hard words. “I went with him to get you back.” Why do people ignore this and act like Lucien only cares about Tamlin? Bull fucking shit. He didn't TRUST Feyre in ACOWAR because he's smart and he knew she was up to something. Miss girl thought she was such a great actor but Lucien saw right through it.💀 And yeah OF COURSE Lucien was worried about Elain in ACOWAR. She's...his mate???? Y'all be fr and stop taking everything Feyre says at face value. “And that’s why you’re here. Not because it’s right and he’s always been wrong, but just so you can get what you think you’re owed.” Y'all think that Feyre is spitting facts or whatever? Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe...she's an unreliable narrator? Lucien has never ONCE acted entitled to her and SJM made sure to have Lucien call out Feyre for being a hypocrite.

“You have the gall to question my priorities regarding Elain—yet what was your motive where I was concerned? Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply for fear of what it might do to her?”

And how did Feyre reply? “You would have been fine.” Were it not for Ianthe, a problem Feyre exasperated by her own admission, Ianthe wouldn't have even been a problem. She'd backed off of Lucien. I had done my job too well, provoked her jealousy too much with every instance I’d found ways to get Lucien to touch me in her presence, in Tamlin’s presence.

Using a victim like this is disgusting. DISGUSTING. The only thing Feyre ever did for Lucien and it was a problem that she caused in the first place. Oh yeah and then you take Lucien's words for fact too: “You are a better friend to me, Feyre,” he said quietly, “than I ever was to you.”

Yeah...fucking bullshit. Generally I'd call Lucien the most reliable narrator considering he's the smartest, but recalling this when Feyre went into his mind? Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless—

I'd just say it's guilt that he wasn't able to do more talking. But he did everything he could without literally dying for Feyre. Or did you forget this? I didn’t want to know what was happening in that room, what he’d done to Lucien, what Lucien had even looked like to cause that pulse of power.

[dirty-bosmer]

Fandom: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Relationship: Mathieu Bellamont/Lucien Lachance but in the "haha, I want to kill you so bad that I'll cut you open and crawl inside your skin" sort of way. content warning: dissolution of the self, murder and the grief that accompanies it.

I just really love Mathieu Bellamont, okay? He gives me more excuses to write angst. Here I wanted to write a series of microfics that explore the tragic relationships he has with the people in his life, past and present

Preview:

Because at nine you saw his sickness in the flesh, an evil so mindless, so monstrous that your little voice couldn’t yet find the words to name it anything but death. Because death’s fist clenches much further than its arm can reach, and only in her absence did you learn her passing had killed the both of you, that beyond the artifice, beneath the skin, it was all blood and bone and borrowed time.

Remember the breeze? Remember its salt tang? Remember the snap of the sails in the harbor, the rolling rhythm of Wayrest’s waters, how sharp the first breath hit the back of our throats when we rose from the white-wash, hand in hand?

When we were together— alone together— we were perfect, could have stayed like that forever. Weren’t you happier too when it was just the two of us, you and I away from Father? If only you knew what I knew, that nothing else really mattered. Together, we were whole, Mother. Why did you have to bring us back to that house we knew was never a home?

— from the diary of Mathieu Bellamont

—

Because at nine you saw his sickness in the flesh, an evil so mindless, so monstrous that your little voice couldn’t yet find the words to name it anything but death. Because death’s fist clenches much further than its arm can reach, and only in her absence did you learn her passing had killed the both of you, that beyond the artifice, beneath the skin, it was all blood and bone and borrowed time. Ten thousand suns and ten thousand more to come— they rise, each one, like the weals left by biting gnats. As a boy, all your wounds too were circles, and sometimes you wonder, were there anything left of him, what shape would he have become?

The shadows pulse along the sanctuary wall— yours, a gnarl of limbs bent by the weight of accruing grief that as a boy frightened you so much you fell asleep with your eyes open. Hours you’d spend watching your silhouette warp in the receding light, convinced even your own body could betray you. And why shouldn’t it? Flesh deceived you once before, and your father’s blood beats within you still, a traitor’s poison. Hear it sloshing. Hear it straining, slow and viscous, stirred by some feat of necromantic magic keeping your corpse tethered to Nirn. Yes, though these eyes blink and this mouth moves, you hang beneath the surface of the skin. The hand in the puppet, the echo of an old command, yet there is no more man here than there is in a persistent haunting. Vellum thin, an islet of bruise in a blue spider web of veins. On your tongue, a ferrous taste. Were you a curse or were you never more than an afterthought of Arkay’s to begin with? See, it’s not so much death you’ve cheated as it’s life you’ve managed to escape, but men as small as you can do that when made up of empty space.

Your existence has been no more than an exercise in breathing as little as possible, taking only from Nirn what is needed to carry onward one more day. Consume too much of life, and you risk dissolving the formlessness you’ve cultured. Someone might notice, reach out and touch you, pull you off your liminal stage. Pray tell, what happens then? Do you precipitate? A deposition— can you turn the vapor back to crystal, form the memory of what was into the man who should have been? If someone called your name, could you answer sure and without wincing? Could you level a stare, gaze back into the eyes of the damned and living and see reflected there the shape of you, the quake of you? Could you risk it?

To go on knowing that maybe you weren’t drowned completely, that all this time you could have saved yourself if only you had reached, that when Arkay turned his back and let the dead wash up, blue and bloated, maybe your mother’s life wasn’t the one you’d been brought back to retrieve.

And are you both or are you neither when all that’s left of her is your face? No, no. Tell yourself she is not gone, merely going, and keep your grip tight even if it demands all of your strength, because wherever she is, there you are too. Remember that her heart beat once for the both of you, and though what you share now is not life, it is sacred, a bond more binding than your father’s blood. How could anyone else comprehend it? The others sleeping in the sanctuary, their body heat like a low grade fever, will never know you’re not their brother, already someone else’s son. And you’re a son as long as you remember that you are a part of her, the heart of her, that even before you came into this world, you were wanted, you were loved.

And if the boy you were was still here, would you recognize him? Would he, you, lying awake as you are now, dry eyes turned to the horizon’s beginning light? Imagine him somewhere on the water, trawled up and imploded, body misshapen, his smile split like an open coffin. Imagine him shadowless and shapeless, lying still and blistering with hope as he waits for the next of ten thousand suns for the day he’s made back into one.

Take comfort then in having been born again a ghost, for you do not look to the future. There is none.