#fae courts

[nopoodles]

The Way People Got Lost In The Woods - whumpril short story - Fae Courts/Winter King, some spoilers

*Thera gets lost in the faerie realm* Whumpril Prompt: Day 14 – Lost/FoundBook world: Fae courts/Winter King (yes, some minor spoilers). Thera frowned at the little bundle of moss on the wall before her. Was that the same bundle of moss she had seen before? The one that might might be the one that Thera had noticed on the way from her bedroom. Or, more likely, it was just a random little bundle…

[chaotic-orphan]

A Benignant Mischief (5)

Part one here

Continued from here

Back to my favourite Kingdom~

*~*~*~*~*

Cosimo managed to walk at a respectable pace with Henrik’s arm around him, supporting him as they followed the King’s trail through the palace. It felt nice to have freedom of movement in his arms, the iron cuffs were a welcome weight off his wrists.

This part of the palace looked less… formal. Less imposingly grand as the trial court had been. There were also less people, less humans, so maybe that had something to do with Cosimo’s sudden easement.

They turned a corner which opened up into a large room. Not as tall or grand as the court, but clean. Clinical. The walls were the same bone white, but three beds made up the back wall with cabinets full of bottles scattered around everywhere else, filling the space.

Nikolas was there, smiling and charming off the other grumpy human that could only be Artzet. He was taller than Nikolas, and where Nikolas was fair Artzet was dark. He had long dark, raven hair pushed back off his face, that stopped just above his shoulders. He had a wide face and a strong jaw, lined with dark stubble. His eyes were blue, when he turned his head to Cosimo and Henrik, like ice.

“Ah, there he is now,” said Nikolas with a smile, walking over to Cosimo and Henrik to stand beside them. “The man of the hour. He had a rather unfortunate arrival and I was hoping you could bandage his wrists from the cuffs.”

Artzet cocked an eyebrow at Cosimo, silent as the grave. He had a strange aura about him, unapproachable and stormy. His eyes flicked to Cosimo’s ears and Cosimo felt the shame rise in his face as he looked down.

“The boy’s an elf,” Artzet said, his voice like gravel, with a strange accent. Not unlike Henrik and Nikolas but certainly different. Foreign, like Cosimo.

“Yes,” said Nikolas brightly. “He’s a boy. His name is Cosimo, and he was mistreated in my name, Artzet.”

Artzet’s eyes were hard when they cut to Nikolas. “Don’t you usually execute elves?”

There wasn’t a malice in his words, nor anything else really. It was more… matter of fact, as if trying to glean understanding. Cosimo was dizzy with the range that humans came in. Evil, kind, happy, grumpy— and then Artzet who just… confused Cosimo.

Maybe he was going mad.

“Yes,” Nikolas replied in the same matter-of-fact tone. “Adult elves with intentions to kill me first. This boy is a child, Artzet. He doesn’t even know of our tumultuous history with elves.”

Artzet looked at Cosimo again with those icy eyes, calculating, searching Cosimo’s face for what Cosimo didn’t know. Then his face broke into a smile and it made him look a couple years younger.

“An innocent elf,” Artzet said with a bark of laughter and a shrug. “Well. It’s not everyday I get to treat an elf, please put him on the bed.”

Nikolas grinned in return, flashing his smile down at Cosimo and then patting Henrik on the back. “Marvellous!”

Henrik helped Cosimo over to the bed while Artzet milled around the room, humming a tune to himself. “You okay, kid?” Henrik whispered as he lifted Cosimo onto the bed.

“Yeah,” Cosimo replied, the room swirling slightly. “Yeah I’m fine.” Henrik smiled and grabbed Cosimo’s legs, helping him to stretch out on the comfortable bed and it felt so good. So nice and soft and warm. So unlike the cell’s cot.

Nikolas smiled at Cosimo from the entrance of the room. “I have to go and see to some arrangements about fixing you a room, Cosimo.”

Cosimo frowned. “A room?”

“Yes,” Nikolas said, smiling kindly.

“You’re not letting me go?”

The humans stilled in the room. Cosimo looked between Nikolas and Henrik, Artzet’s humming stopped. His heart was beating hard in his chest.

They weren’t going to let him go? What about? He had to save the boy and the fox he had to return to them, he had to—

Darkness encroached on the edges of his vision, Cosimo’s breath getting away from him and thrumming his chest in a staccato rhythm.

“I have to— I have to— my brother, I have to—” Cosimo wheezed, clutching his chest but it was no use. His thoughts were against him, his mind turning in on him and shattering. He couldn’t breathe. He had to—

Henrik was beside him, hand on his and squeezing. “Hey. Cosimo! Hey! Look at me, it’s okay! We’re not keeping you here. Cosimo!”

Cosimo’s eyes darted around the room searching for escape, everyone, everything was too close to him, the mattress too soft so he would struggle to run and could he even run?! In his state?

Icy eyes appeared in front of him and then smaller golden eyes. Cosimo stared, stunned at the furry creature that Artzet held in front of his face. Tears flowed in steady streams down his face but even then he couldn’t understand what was happening.

A cat?

It was a cat… Artzet… was holding a cat up to Cosimo? To take it?

“There we go. See? Everyone loves Myshka. Eh? Pet her if you like,” said Artzet with an encouraging nod. Cosimo lifted his hand and stroked the cat’s head. The cat purred under him, grey fur so soft and fluffy. “She is my nurse, helps me with all my patients. Isn’t that right Myshka?”

Myshka purred in reply. Cosimo let out a small happy laugh at her, as the grey cat curled up on his lap, content. Cosimo raised his head to see Henrik and Nikolas sharing a look of bewilderment. Cosimo swallowed, embarrassed at all the fuss he had caused.

“Mmm,” Artzet hummed in response to Myshka. “I agree. He is a lovely boy. Too tall for his age, but that means he will grow strong.”

“Cosimo.”

Cosimo looked up to Nikolas, who was frowning his brows forming a furrow at the top of his nose. His green eyes met Cosimo’s, with something heavy in them.

“You said…” Nikolas began then stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth. “You said you had a brother?”

Cosimo’s chest swelled again. He looked to Henrik who stared at him with the same tentative look that was on Nikolas’s face. So he must have said it. Cosimo didn’t remember saying it…

“You didn’t run away on your own,” said Henrik softly. Cosimo glanced down at the cat, fearing if he looked at anyone else he would start crying again. “Did you?”

Cosimo swallowed the lump in his throat.

Artzet spoke first. “Cosimo, if you wouldn’t mind stretching your arm here so I can clean it.”

Cosimo was happy for the distraction. His tongue had turned to sand in his mouth, too dry and thick and much. What would they do to the boy? To the fox? Would they kill them? Sure, Henrik liked Cosimo but that didn’t mean they liked elves. Would they put him in irons too? Force him to be in a cell? To stand trial, and then bandage him up again with an apology and an offer to stay and live with them.

“Cosimo,” it was Henrik this time. His eyes soft and trusting. “You can tell us, okay? We just want what’s best for you. And for your brother.”

Cosimo felt tears building behind his eyes. He couldn’t tell them, could he? He remembered during the trial, how Henrik had just stood back as he was tied down to an iron pole and it flared something angry in his chest. He couldn’t just tell them.

“If I tell you,” Cosimo said, tone guarded, shielding himself from the answer. He raised his head and stared straight at Nikolas. He had to hear it from the King. “Will you subject him to the same thing you did to me?”

The question seemed to suck all air out of the room. Henrik straightened, turning his body a little away from Cosimo, to look at Nikolas. Nikolas’s green eyes didn’t leave Cosimo’s. He walked closer to Cosimo’s bed and stopped at the end of it. Nikolas lifted his right hand, tucking his left behind his back and formed a fist over his chest.

His eyes solemn as he stared at Cosimo.

“I promise you, Cosimo. That your brother will not come to any harm in my care. I will treat you both as if you were my subjects. If you wish you can pass through my territory if you would prefer to keep running from where you’re from. I will provide the King’s escort so you can pass safely through.” Nikolas’s gaze softened then. A small flush fell over his cheeks, and Cosimo realised with a start that the King was… embarrassed.

“Or, if you prefer, you can have a room here in the palace. In my court. You would be treated with the utmost respect and kindness, as well as I would treat any other human. More so, because I know what pain you have been caused under my care. This, I give you, my vow as King. No harm will come to you.”

Cosimo stared without words. It felt as if his breath was taken from his chest. The only thought running through his head was that: Nikolas really did look like a King. The kind of Kings from stories Cosimo grew up with; good Kings, kind Kings, brave as knights and chosen by Gods. His golden brown hair like a crown, standing like a soldier in front of Cosimo, offering him a salute.

A King saluting Cosimo.

A human saluting an elf.

His enemy.

Maybe he was like everything Henrik had said. Maybe he was too good to be a King.

Cosimo broke down into another round of sobs. Nikolas blanked, like he had done something wrong immediately looking to Henrik who shared his look of confusion.

Artzet was bandaging Cosimo’s wrist, movement unbroken as if there was no life changing exchanges happening behind him. Myshka purred on Cosimo’s lap happily.

“Cosimo, I—” Nikolas began but Cosimo cut him off.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for causing all this trouble, I’m sorry for forcing you to be kind. I’m sorry—” Cosimo blubbered, looking up at Nikolas with watery eyes, as wide as saucers. “I’m sorry… that I’m not strong enough to say no. I— I ran with my brother, we— I didn’t have a plan, we have nowhere else to—”

Henrik engulfed Cosimo in a hug, stopping him mid sentence. He was so strong he could take the weight of them both as sobs wracked through Cosimo like a storm. Blubbering up and broiling over in waves.

“We’ll find your brother,” Nikolas said, and he was so certain. “As soon as you’re rested and—”

Cosimo’s eyes flew open, panicked. “No. Please, we have to find him now.”

Nikolas softened. “Of course. As soon as Artzet has looked you over we will set out to find him, Cosimo.”

“How wonderful,” Artzet said happily, returning Cosimo’s bandaged wrist to his lap. “I am already halfway through! Henrik, please. Let us swap sides.”

Cosimo flushed at Artzet’s manner of speaking. He spoke from the back of his throat, pausing as if for effect after every couple of words. His voice happy and upbeat, his face still the same imposing sternness that had initially scared Cosimo.

Henrik pulled back from Cosimo, and Cosimo offered him a smile. It was all he could do. Henrik returned one and walked around the bed to where Artzet was before, sitting on the edge of the blanket.

“How far away was your brother from where we were camped?” Henrik asked.

“Not too far,” Cosimo replied. “I’ll know when we get there. I left him in an elfbow. It should protect him from humans.”

“And from elves?”

Cosimo looked at Nikolas who had an unreadable expression on his face. Cosimo frowned, he didn’t even think of that.

“No,” said Cosimo softly. “No it wouldn’t.”

“No trouble,” said Artzet with a smile. “I will just work faster.”

Nikolas nodded at Artzet. “Thank you, Doctor. Henrik will stay with you Cosimo, while I send word to the stables to prepare the horses so we can leave as soon as you’re finished here.”

“Okay,” said Cosimo. “Thank you.”

Nikolas nodded and then he was gone.

“Oh no,” said Artzet not a second later. Turning Cosimo’s and Henrik’s head to him.

“What?” Henrik asked, his eyes flickering to Cosimo’s wrist.

Artzet grinned. “I think the King likes you, Cosimo.”

Henrik rolled his eyes and let out a soft laugh. Cosimo didn’t know how to react to that statement, but it did make something warm around his heart. It was good if the King liked him, that meant he would survive. The boy would survive. They would be okay, that Cosimo didn’t actually doom them. That he saved them both.

That all this had meant something.

Artzet smiled when he was finished and straightened. “Now, Cosimo. You are good as new! Well, not new, but better.”

Artzet spoke at Henrik next: “make sure he doesn’t ride his own horse in case the pulling of the reins aggravates his wrists.”

“It’s okay,” said Henrik, getting to his feet. “Cosimo will be riding with me anyway.”

“Marvellous. Now, Myshka,” said Artzet with a sigh. He leaned down and hooked his hands under the cats belly to her mewl of protest. “I know, I know. Terrible. Cosimo has a brother to rescue, Myshka, don’t be selfish.”

Cosimo got to his feet, his head only slightly dizzying now. The stress seeming to have left his body with Artzet and Myshka.

“Thank you,” Cosimo said to Artzet who was cuddling Myshka to his chest.

“Anytime, Cosimo. Now go, save your brother. I will see you again.”

Cosimo walked beside Henrik out of Artzet’s room and turned a different corner than the one that led back to the court room with the throne and the iron pole.

“Cosimo, are you sure you’re okay to ride?” Henrik asked, the skepticism evident in his voice. Cosimo for his part was doing his best to stay focused and upright.

“Yes,” said Cosimo. He did feel better, much better than before. He was a little woozy but he just attributed that to the blood loss. His hands looked a little funny with the white bandages wrapped firmly around them. Soft, yet strong. “We need to find him.”

He could feel Henrik’s eyes on him as they walked down the steps they had come up from the stables. They were so close to being safe, Cosimo could rest when he saw the boy, didn’t Henrik understand that? He could relax and let Henrik fuss over him then, but not until he saw the boy.

If the elves had got to him…

No, Cosimo couldn’t think like that. He wouldn’t. They would find the boy and everything would be fine.

They emerged from the side door of the palace to find Nikolas and some soldiers preparing horses outside the stables. Ebony was already geared up, tied off beside a white horse that Cosimo could only presume belonged to Nikolas.

He seemed like the type of man to have a white horse. It made him look more like a Hero. Henrik walked them around to where the gathering of the soldiers were to see Nikolas in the middle, sitting on a bale of hay and laughing at something with the stable boys.

He perked up when he saw Cosimo and Henrik, smiling and standing. He clapped one of the stable boys on the shoulder and then he was in front of Cosimo and Henrik.

“You’re all patched up,” said Nikolas.

“Yes, Artzet worked quickly.”

“Good. Then let’s not waste anymore time, hmm?”

They didn’t. Henrik helped Cosimo onto Ebony again and then climbed up behind him, while Nikolas mounted the white horse beside them. Henrik offered something to Cosimo and he took it, realising it was the hood and cloak Henrik had given him before to hide his ears from the other humans.

Cosimo frowned at the green material. Did he still have to hide? Was he not free by the king’s decree?

“People won’t know that you’re pardoned yet, Cosimo,” said Henrik behind him as he walked Ebony towards the palace gates. “They will still have reason to fear you if they see your ears. People have the tendency to think the worst. It will just cause panic.”

Cosimo swallowed his pride. He didn’t really have any grounds to fight Henrik who had only been kind with him. Henrik was doing this for Cosimo too, so he wouldn’t have to see the fear and hatred in the people’s eyes.

With a few orders from Nikolas they were out the palace gates and walking through the city to the border. Cosimo was awed with the reception Nikolas got from his people.

“Your majesty!”

“Your highness!”

“Three cheers for King Nikolas!”

A street band from the upper city followed the precession with lively music as they walked through the streets. Nikolas, Cosimo observed, smiled and waved and nodded when he needed to. He had no crown and yet everyone knew he was the King. He was adored by his city.

When they got into the outer parts, the poorer parts Cosimo expected some of the love to dwindle but if anything it just got louder.

“Nikolas!”

“King Niko! Where’re’ya off ta?”

“Your highness! We named our son after you,” a woman cried, holding a baby up to him. Nikolas laughed and stopped his horse beside the woman to gaze down at the sleeping child in her arms.

“Mmm, he’s going to be a handsome one, Sierra. Look at that, he’s got his father’s strong nose.” Nikolas looked up at her and smiled, what Cosimo could only assume was his charming kingly smile. “I wish you three all the happiness in the world.”

Then they continued on.

More music.

Flowers thrown at his horses feet. It’s like a festival.

Cosimo can’t help but feel a stab on envy. He can only watch as the humans fawn and fuss over their King, and with good reason, because he’s wearing a cloak right now to cover his features. His ears, his skin, his eyes. All too strange to humans, all hateful. That’s why they were greeted with flowers instead of curses and words of praise rather than hatred.

He shrunk a little into himself, pulling the cloak tighter around himself. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Not until they rescued the boy, that’s why they were leaving Oskana at all. If the humans knew why… well, they wouldn’t be cheering as much.

Or maybe, some tiny voice said at the back of Cosimo’s mind, maybe they would cheer even louder.

It was just a thought, fleeting, and yet somehow heavier than anything Cosimo had thought in the past day. He ignored it. The voice could be right, but Cosimo couldn’t be sure until he saw the boy again.

Until he saved him.

Cosimo raised his head as they reached the city gates, staring out into the Kingswood, as one of the soldiers in his trial had called it.

I’m coming back with help, Cosimo promised. Please, be safe.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be tagged or removed): @annablogsposts

[plasma-studios]

if you dont know what fae are vote by the aesthetic of the seasons + Ink's general vibes

[thebearthatreads]

Wednesday Prompt Smash: Fairy Black Ops Team

Prompt: Fairy Black Ops Team Word Limit: 260 words The fae courts had grown and adapted in time to the modern world, trading courtly clashes for feigned democracy under the high king’s purview with elected officials from the assorted courts. In turn the lower class fae had begun intermingling more openly, splintering into factions and organised rackets working covertly under thumb for whomever…

[beegs-bugs]

“You are all I need.”

Delloso De La Rue, Court of Wonder, Mistrex of Ceremonies

[jtstoryweaver]

She gritted her teeth, trying to prevent her name escaping "F . . . F . . ."

The fae leaned forward eagerly on their tree branch, their glamour wavering as her resistance pulled power from them and they sacrificed beauty for her True Name. She'd managed to inconvenience them, at least.

Her breath rushed out of her, carrying the words the Fae desired. "Fairest of All." 

Wait. What?

That wasn't her name. Her name was Felicity, not that she was going to tell the Fae that.

The Fae's glamour collapsed entirely, and something that looked like a cross between a viperfish and a furless ferret stared up at Felicity with horrified goat eyes. "Forgive, Your Honour. Forgive foolish Fae," they babbled, bowing a neck that didn't look designed to bend.

Okay, there was something going on here, and all the lessons she'd learned about the Fae said that it was a terrible idea to show weakness. "And why should I forgive?" she asked idly, as if she already knew and was debating the depth of the punishment she would bestow. (How? How could a human punish a Fae? She was out of her depth and out of ideas, in this moment of panic.)

"Your Honour is Fairest. Your Honour will not cast judgement for a greater crime than this small Fae has committed." Those too-blue eyes looked down.

Hold on. Your Honour? Judgement? Crimes? This – by all the willing deities, was 'the Fairest' the title for their judges? Legend came down pretty solidly on the Light and Dark Fae Courts, but no-one had even hinted at the possibility of Fae Civil and Criminal Courts!

Felicity took a breath. She could work with this. If she could wrangle twenty seven-year-old children into learning about multiplication, she could handle one snivelling lesser Fae.

"You will swear to answer this Fairest truthfully regarding the wrong you have done against her," Felicity said, giving the little Fae no option but to agree.

"This Fae swears!"

She locked the Schoolteacher Glare on them.

"This Fae swears on mother's magic and the Great Tree," they amended.

Felicity decided that would do. "Tell me what spell you cast on me."

"Cast One Truth, Your Honour. Asked the question before anyone else could do so."

Felicity's knowledge of judges was mostly from TV shows and that one time she'd been a juror, but she knew that the evidence should be as clear as possible. "Tell me what question you asked me."

"Asked the True Name of the Fairest of All." The Fae huddled down into the wood of the branch it had chosen to perch on.

"No disappearing on me before I pronounce judgement," Felicity said sternly. It unfolded slightly, blue eyes with kidney-shaped pupils looking up at her in entreaty. "What did you plan to do with that information?"

Her query dragged the words out of its unwilling mouth, just as it had done to her only minutes before. "Play and pester, tease and taunt. Bring human to Fae lands, twist and turn and lose them and loop them."

"How long would you have done these things?"

"A year, or two, or three. Three for the Fae and thirty for the humans."

Felicity swallowed her exclamation of horror with the willpower honed by dealing with tantrums and playground injuries. "Why would you have done this?"

"By rule of the King and Queen, and for this Fae's fun."

Felicity breathed in. "How much of your plan was by rule of King and Queen?"

"Allowed to play with True Names in the mortal lands."

"And how much was not?"

They buried their nose, with its mouth full of needle-like teeth, in the tree bark. It made no difference to the confession she drew from them. "Not allowed to force True Names, only to trick. Not allowed to fetch humans to the Fae lands, only to deceive."

 There it was. "Then a fair punishment would be to –"

"No! No!" they shrieked. "Not to bring before King and Queen, no, Fairest!"

"A fair punishment," Felicity repeated patiently, "would be to give me your True Name. Despite your plans, you did not carry out any of the actions you described."

The Fae's claws raked the bark, but it nodded. "The punishment is fair, Your Honour," they agreed grudgingly. "This Fae's true name is Glitterwings."

Felicity choked back a laugh. The Fae's true, wingless form was about as far away from glittery as you could get. "Glitterwings. You will not seek my death, injury, or any means of harm, against me or other humans."

"Yes, Your Honour," Glitterwings agreed miserably. "But how can Fae be Fae without mischief?"

"I never forbade you from benign mischief," Felicity pointed out. "I'm sure you can think of something."

The Fae brightened, then slumped back to their branch. "This Fae is not clever."

Well, given their law-breaking attempt at ruining her life, that was fairly obvious. "Listen - do you have another name, one you would prefer me to use in front of others?"

That startled them, their head snapping back up and their eyes fixing on her. "No. This Fae is this Fae."

"I shall call you Sparky," she decided. "Do you have a home to go to, Sparky?"

They sat back on their hind legs, their previous glamour beginning to weave around them again. "No home. Sparky sleeps in trees, when sleep needed."

Felicity fought the urge to coo over the little mischief. They'd nearly wrecked her life – but, fair was fair, they hadn't managed it. "Then you can come home with me. I baked a sponge cake yesterday, there's still plenty left."

"Human food?" Sparky asked eagerly.

"Human food," Felicity agreed, holding out one hand to the ethereal little winged thing sitting in the tree. "Come on, hop up. I'm sure that between us we can find something for you to do."

Sparky leapt gracefully onto her hand, ran up her arm, and settled comfortably on her shoulder. "Fairest of All is truly fair," they declared.

Felicity chuckled. "Careful with the True Names there, Sparky," she warned. "Miss Trent will do."

"Yes, Miss Trent," Sparky agreed.

Felicity moved off down the path through the trees. Her voice was audible even when she moved out of sight, Sparky's high, sweet glamour-voice answering her.

From among the shadows, a man stepped onto the path. His exquisite beauty alone would have marked him as Fae, although no-one who saw him would have been able to agree on a set of features. "A fair judgement indeed," he murmured, and the trees rustled at his voice. "You have a long road ahead, Fairest of All."

The spell of the fae forced you to tell them your name. The fae looks at you with pure horror, while you look at them confused, because that was definitely not your name.

[acomaflove]

Cassian, on bedrest healing from an injury: You can’t expect me to just lay around all day.

Nesta: That is EXACTLY what will be happening, or I will tie you to the bedframe to keep you there.

Cassian: Don’t threaten me with a good time.

Nesta: Fine. I will have AZRIEL tie you instead.

Cassian: …………still a good time.

Nesta: YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE. Is there ANYONE in this court you don’t have a flirtatious dynamic with?

Cassian:

Nesta:

Cassian:

Nesta: I will have Amren tie——

Cassian: NO PLEASE I’LL BE GOOD

[hanafubukki]

Do you think General Lilia Vanrouge would leave the head of your enemy at your door?? You know, as a courting gift??

He wants to court you but doesn’t know how. So he asked the two that are in a happy marriage (his first mistake) and Baul Zigvolt (his second mistake maybe).

Meleanor and Levan’s response: “The head of your enemy.” (One of them is messing with him and the other is serious.)

Baul Zigvolt: “Anything from the Great Right General will be valued!” (He’s being genuine)

And…he listens to them like a fool.

You wake up to see a box by your door one day. Lo and behold, a head!

[Like a cat, he has brought you a gift. Look! Hasn’t he done well? See how capable he is?? Lolol]

[nopoodles]

You Said To Keep An Eye On Them - FFF289 Blinding Gaze

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Ailpien, Aodhán, and The Winter King are characters from my WIP: Face Courts/Winter King There are NO SPOILERS here for the book itself as this happens well before the start of the narrative.

It was only a flash, really. Nothing so easily noticed as a real show of power. Something squashed so quickly that Ailpien doubted anyone else could have seen it. There wasn’t even that flutter of hair-raising power that always tickled over him when someone unleased a power like that.

Aodhán had always sparkled. They shone with the power of the Summer Court at all times. Often to the extent that Ailpien and other members of the Winter Court would struggle to look at them without squinting. Similar enough to how Slaine could flash like sunlight on snow but in a concentrated burst, an endless supply, something that did not simply pass. Ailpien was used to it, by now, knew how to look without hurting himself.

This, though…

The way they had jerked in the wake of the Winter King’s words, as if he had slapped them. Showing only those eyes full to the brim and ready to spill over with a wash of golden, hotter than boiling Sun magic. It pinned Ailpien in place as effectively as any other such threat of power might have. The same way the Winter King’s frost-bite glare did, the same way the Sun King’s swirling tendrils of flame did.

The follow up from Aodhán was just as stark. The grim set of their mouth. The way their whole self seemed to shut off. That glow still burning, a fire not yet out of control. Ailpien could almost see it, then, what Aodhán would have looked like at war. Grim, determined, and resolutely, terrifyingly powerful even with all that power locked tight behind impeccable self-control. What would it be if they unleashed it?

The half-bow Aodhán offered the Winter King was sarcastic in a way Ailpien didn’t know was possible. “As the king requires,” Aodhán said, voice even, as if emotions was but a distant memory.

But Ailpien couldn’t move past it. Couldn’t see anything but that blinding flash of purest gold in their eyes, like portals to the heart of the sun itself.

A shiver worked its way down his spine.

“We adjourn for the day,” the Winter King ordered. Courtiers snapped to obey, even those who had come to petition knowing better than to test the Winter King’s ire on this particular day. They’d all learnt to avoid his moods. No other option unless one wanted to spend some dedicated time in the dungeons beneath the throne room, screams echoing up to warn new petitioners.

Ailpien was a little slower to leave. A hesitance to him that was unfamiliar. Usually he wanted to get away from Seanair as quickly as possible. But he couldn’t risk leaving before ensuring the furious envoy to the Summer Court had, in fact, not followed that foolish anger to even more foolish action.

Aodhán only met his eye very briefly, emotions so locked down even Ailpien couldn’t parse them in those amber eyes. But at least they were back to amber iris rather than a full flash of all consuming gold.

His Seanair was saying something, complaining about the audacity of the Sun Court’s ambassador, “How dare they question my running of my own court? Who asked them here? I should send them back from whence they came. If it wouldn’t begin another war, I might even unmake them downstairs.”

“No!” Ailpien protested in a wash.

Seanair turned to him, one bushy white eyebrow raised. “Oh?”

“Nobody wants a war,” Ailpien said, but he was fooling nobody.

“Am I given to understand you are, perhaps, growing a little too close to our ambassador?”

“Of course not,” Ailpien protested, to his mind he wasn’t close enough. He wanted to share their bed every night and dance with them openly at the fae balls mixing beautifully together in gold and silver swirls.

He wanted more than either of them could afford to risk. More than secreted meetings in their respective offices. Wanted so much and to such an extent that the world around them actively sought to push them together. And he had been fooling not just Seanair but everyone else into believing it was a lack of trust.

Faerie, however, seemed to disagree, or find fault in his statement. An untruth it would not tolerate. Perhaps attempting to exploit the difference between Ailpien and his Seanair’s opinions as to what ‘too close’ meant was beyond its capabilities. The accidental war between viewpoints setting the throne room shivering, even if only a little.

Seanair’s face turned impossibly colder. “You are spending a lot of time with them, aren’t you?”

“You said we needed to keep an eye on them,” Ailpien said, his voice weak in the face of that ice.

“And what part of them have you been keeping an eye on, exactly?”

© Will Soulsby-McCreath, nopoodles, 2025. Please feel free to share around tumblr via reblogs but do not copy to another site or feed into AI. This will be cross-posted to my shortstory blog Thu 30/1/25

[littlesistersti-backupandspam]

potentially spoilers to tag this but eh

Faerie X Reader

Female! Dark Fae X GN Reader

A/N: Not doing great right now, physically and mentally, so I’d love any wholesome recommendations or requests if possible~ This little drabble is just something I couldn’t stop thinking about. I apologize that this wasn’t as yandere oriented!

TW: possessive/ dominating themes, lime fiction (aka not really smut but we definitely makin out), sort of nsfw implied at the end?

Unseelie: A race of fae known as evil or malevolent.

Seelie: Fae who are seen as prosperous and kind.

Her hands ran over your body– intentionally moving agonizingly slow. 

“Davina,” Your breath hitched when calling out her name. A name you learned a measly few hours ago when she intentionally led you deeper into the forest– to a place you hadn’t recognized. The sultry voice calling you into her cabin made you feel warm compared to the dark trees surrounding you. The irony being played was how similar she was to the dank forest. Both in skin and soul, she reflected the darkness peering in from outside.

Her deep grey skin was a strong contrast compared to your human-looking flesh. You never realized how different the Unseelie race was compared to your own; being born from the light side of the forest, you never came in contact with any fae that wasn’t Seelie.  

Keep reading

[missingwerewolf]

i could not go to be until i finished this piece! Here is Lucien Vanserra, emissary of the Spring Court/Night Court. Did I base him on Val Kilmer's Mad Martigan in Willow? Yes. Yes I did. Gimme a time machine bc that is my fan cast, lol.

[myfashionburden]

tony ward couture fall/winter 2024 'nymphs rebirth collection'

[acourtofquestions]

Reposted (from Instagram) with permission & full credit to: @wwispart

[atola]

If you want to date me you have to defeat my endless evil observations AKA watch every single dropout DnD campaign as well a collection of my favourite edits of every season

[bonecarversbestie]

[jacksdreams]

“And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.”

credit @court_of_scetches