#half-wraith twins

[wingedblooms]

A rose in the thorns

Remember when Madja told us that the Cauldron made its mark deepest in the mind? And then Sarah showed us this:

The gates to her mind … Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar)

Her flowers are described as sleeping buds that are tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. Feyre describes her mental gates this way just before Elain uses powers that might be connected to mystics. And then, as others have pointed out, Sarah shows us this in the next book:

But Mor scented nothing, saw nothing. The tendril of power she speared toward the woods revealed only the usual birds and small beasts. A hart drinking from a hole in an iced-over stream. Nothing, except - There, between a snarl of thorns. A patch of darkness. It did not move, did not seem to do anything but linger. And watch. Familiar and yet foreign. Something in her power whispered not to touch it, not to go near it. Even from this distance. Mor obeyed. But she still watched that darkness in the thorns, as if a shadow had fallen asleep among them. Not like Azriel's shadows, twining and whispering. Something different. Something that stared back, watching her in turn. (Mor's pov, acofas)

A shadowy watcher in the woods, as if it had fallen asleep in the thorns. That imagery is eerily similar to Elain's sleeping buds. As a seer, she can find and watch others from afar.

"This time, you sent the trembling fawn to find me. I did not expect to see those doe-eyes peering at me from across the world." (Suriel, acowar)

Mystics seek a higher consciousness, to become one with the divine. In tog, beings of a higher consciousness are what characters referred to as gods. And what did we learn about them from the memory in the witch mirror?

They had no forms. They were only figments of light and shadow, wind and rain, song and memory. Each individual, and yet a part of one majority, one consciousness. (eos)

If mystics become one with the divine, then this might mean they become part of that greater consciousness, travel like figments of light and shadow. This could explain why Elain is paired with the half-wraith twins and it’s possible her mystical travel might mimic how Feyre moves when she is connected to the Cauldron through a living bond.

I could not remove my hand. Could not pry my fingers away. I was being shredded apart, slowly, thoroughly. I flung my magic out, desperate for any chain to this world to save me, keep me from being devoured by the eternal, awful thing that now tried to drag me into its embrace. Fire and water and light and wind and ice and night. All rallied. All failed me. Some tether slipped, and my mind slid closer to the Cauldron’s outstretched arms. I felt it touch me. And then I was half gone. Half there, standing silently next to the Cauldron, hand glued to the black rim. Half … elsewhere. Flying through the world. Searching. The Cauldron now hunted for that power that had come so close…And now taunted it. [...] Time seemed to slow and warp. The dark power of the king speared toward us. Toward that clearing where I was neither seen nor heard, where I was nothing but a scrap of soul carried on a black wind. (acowar)

Feyre’s connection to her form is shredded and her tether to the world slips as she is embraced by the Cauldron. She travels with it across the battlefield, a scrap of soul on a black wind, and is forced to watch tragic events unfold. Trapped by the Cauldron, Feyre was not able to step out of its black wind shadow to help, but Elain was.

For a moment, I thought the Cauldron had answered my pleas. But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.” (acowar)

And this is probably why Elain’s rose is half-hidden in shadows next to the Mother. Her Cauldron-blessed powers might allow her to be half-there, half-elsewhere when she becomes part of that greater, divine consciousness.

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess–perhaps even the Mother herself. (acosf)

It’s possible she used this power to locate the Suriel, which was practice for the main event: answering Feyre’s pleas and taking down Hybern in place of the Cauldron. Her Sight—a truth teller itself—likely activated Truth-Teller, guiding her to exactly the right place at the right time. The question is, since she is not bound like Feyre, did she then winnow (ie, travel like Hope through the Void, light cutting through the darkness) to save her family? And has she continued to help them in this way?

Islands of grass dotted the expanse, some so crowded with brambles that he could find no safe place to land. The tangles of thorns were a mockery of what might have been - as if Oorid had ever produced roses. Not a single flower bloomed. [...] Run, a small voice whispered. Run and run, and do not look back. The voice was female, gentle. Wise and serene. Run. [...] Run. Was that voice merely all that remained of her human instincts, or something more? She gazed at her reflection as if it would tell her. Something rustled in the thorns of the island, and she snapped up her head, heart thundering as she scanned for that familiar male face and wings. But there was no sign of Cassian. And whatever was in that bramble...She should find another island to head for. (acosf)

This small voice warning Nesta to run also reminds me of Elain’s warning cry to Feyre before she is Made by the Cauldron.

My sisters were shrieking over their gags. But Elain’s cry—a warning. A warning to—To my right, now exposed, Tamlin ran for me. To grab me at last. I hurled a knife at him—as hard as I could. (acomaf)

Sarah planted Nesta’s questions in the Oorid scene to make us wonder. Is this voice something more? And is Nesta’s reflection, her own flesh and blood, a fun hint? After all, who is even better than the spymaster at keeping secrets, and who would’ve known where Nesta was headed? Elain might have defied her sister’s order (like we knew she would) to stay away from the Cauldron and help yet again, a rose bloom half-hidden in the shadows among the thorns. And I bet she will learn a ritual to help focus and ground her movements.

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC: The Ghostly Army

The fact that Ghosts can be brainwashed and hypnotized gets out and ends up in the wrong hands. Specifically the hands of Lex Luthor. When he finds this out he's ecstatic. He's been half paying attention to Ghosts since he started getting reports from the Ghost Investigation Ward after he passed their Anti-Ecto Laws, it was part of the law that had been brought to him.

For as long as the law existed he would get as much of the information as those who funded the G.I.W.. It hadn't been something he'd actively cared about until he learned just how powerful one of the ghosts - Phantom - was. Strong enough to take down Superman if he was on the right team, which he wasn't and the G.I.W. wanted him destroyed so it was complicated.

However, after enough 'negotiating' and keeping the situation in Amity Park under the radar and blocking out all calls in and out of the small city to avoid the Justice League from paying them any attention, he was able to convince the G.I.W. to help him out. Bring him Phantom and any other particularly powerful ghost like Phantom and he would allow them to do whatever they wanted with Amity Park.

Now he has not one but three exceedingly powerful Ghosts under his control.

Wisp: A tiny ghost who appeared about 12 with white hair and green eyes.

Wraith: A much larger ghost around 15 who could be Phantom's twin but with red eyes.

and Phantom: A 15 year old child who was apparently more powerful than Wisp and Wraith combined.

They were all under his control, and impossible force that he used to take down not only Superman but any member of the Justice League who dared stand in his way. With Wisp's small size and speed, Wraith's rage and strength, and Phantom's power and experience there would be no stopping them!

----

Meanwhile, in Gotham City there is a very pissed off Vampire and two people in jumpsuits running around looking for their three missing children and anybody who will listen to them. Which, Batman was already planning on doing before the Vampire decided to all but kidnap Nightwing as collateral in case they 'didn't have his full attention'.

Whoever these three pissed off parents were, their kids were important to them and soon they would become important to the entire Justice League... maybe even the world.

[zapreportsblog]

HAHA i'm back again hi srry my mind is overloaded with ideas😭😭😭

can you do volturi (or just the kings idm) x newborn reader who has the power of life and death inducement (platonic or not idrc) Who doesn't love an extremely overpowered y/n HAHAHHAHAHA ik i do!!!

❝your end and your beginning ❞

✭ pairing : volturi x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (Y/n) awakes as a freshly turnt vampire and the first thing she wants to know is does she have any cool powers? So with the help with her the other guards she finds that she can does indeed have powers and ones that the volturi are lucky to have on their side

✭ authors note : well welcome back then

✭ twilight masterlist

The darkness enveloped her as she lay motionless, suspended in a realm between life and death. (Y/N) had always been aware of the existence of vampires, the elusive creatures of the night that haunted the realm of myths and legends. Little did she know that soon, she would become one of them.

Her journey to this otherworldly existence had begun weeks ago, when she was selected by the three vampire kings themselves. Chosen for a destiny she couldn't fathom, her life had taken an unexpected and perilous turn. The transformation had been agonizing, a relentless torment that seared through her very soul. It felt as though her very essence was being torn asunder, only to be rebuilt with newfound strength and power.

The moment she awoke anew, (Y/N)'s senses were immediately heightened. The world was no longer shrouded in darkness; instead, it was bathed in an eerie, crimson glow that revealed details she had never noticed before. Every sound was amplified, every scent a vivid tapestry of the world around her. The hunger, that insatiable thirst, clawed at her throat.

Her first instinct was to test her newfound abilities. She needed to understand the extent of her power and how to control it. Pushing herself to her feet, (Y/N) hesitated for only a moment before making a decision. She would call upon the other guards chosen by the kings, her comrades in this new existence.

With a thought, she summoned the twins, Alec and Jane. They appeared before her like wraiths emerging from the shadows, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"What is it, (Y/N)?" Alec inquired, his voice like a whisper of silk.

"I wanted to know if you could could train me,” Alec raises a brow at her as if he knew there was more to just this training she suggested and urged her to continue, “And I also wanted to see if I had any abilities," she replied, her gaze determined. "I want to see what I can do."

Jane nodded in agreement, her crimson eyes locking onto (Y/N)'s. "Very well, let's see what you've got."

As they began to train and test her newfound powers, Felix and Demetri approached cautiously. These two were seasoned guards, their loyalty to the kings unwavering.

"May we join the training?" Demetri asked, his tone respectful yet inquisitive.

(Y/N) considered their request for a moment. She was well aware that their skills were far superior to hers, and she had much to learn. "Yes, but only if you promise to train me," she responded, a note of determination in her voice.

Felix cracked a half-smile, revealing his sharp fangs. "We'd be honored to help you, (Y/N)."

Underneath the oppressive weight of the castle, the dungeons sprawled out like a dark labyrinth. This was where the guards typically trained newborn vampires, where stone walls bore witness to countless battles and training sessions. As the chosen guards of the three kings, Alec, Jane, Demetri, and Felix led (Y/N) down into the depths of the castle, guiding her through the dimly lit corridors.

Felix was the first to speak as they descended into the dank underground chambers. "This is where we hone our skills, (Y/N)," he said with a sly grin. "Prepare yourself for a taste of true vampire training."

(Y/N) met his grin with a determined nod. She had come to embrace her new existence as a vampire, and this was her opportunity to prove herself. Felix's offer to be her training partner was a challenge she eagerly accepted.

"Alright, big guy," she replied, her eyes flashing with excitement. "Let's see if you can handle me."

In an instant, the cavernous training room became their arena. The shadows danced around them as the others stepped back to watch the clash of strength. Felix and (Y/N) circled each other, their eyes locked in unwavering focus.

The fight began with a blur of motion. Felix lunged at (Y/N), his movements fluid and precise. She countered with agility and speed she had never known before, dodging his attacks with grace. Their movements were like a violent ballet, each one testing the other's limits.

As the battle raged on, Felix's immense strength became apparent. He was relentless, his blows powerful and calculated. (Y/N) had to rely on her agility and quick thinking to avoid being overpowered. But she refused to give in, her determination burning brighter with each passing moment.

Then, in a split second, Felix managed to land a powerful blow, sending (Y/N) sprawling across the stone floor. She grunted in pain but quickly pushed herself back onto her feet.

Felix chuckled, a deep rumble that echoed through the chamber. "Not bad for a newborn," he taunted.

The taunt hit a nerve, and (Y/N)'s emotions flared. Her anger, intensified by her newfound vampire abilities, surged within her. With a flick of her wrist, she sent an invisible force toward Felix.

Time seemed to slow as Felix froze in place, his eyes wide with surprise. He stood immobilized, as though trapped in a momentary stasis. The others watched in astonishment as he teetered on the brink of balance before finally collapsing to the floor.

Demetri's incredulous expression mirrored the bafflement in his mind. He had seen countless battles and faced numerous opponents, but what he had just witnessed left him bewildered. "What even just happened?" he muttered, his voice tinged with confusion.

(Y/N) stood over the immobilized Felix, her heart pounding in her chest. Panic began to creep into her as she tried to wake him, shaking him gently, but he remained unresponsive. "Felix, come on!" she pleaded, her voice trembling.

Her attempts to rouse Felix only escalated her panic. Desperation welled up inside her, and she could feel the powerful emotions threatening to spiral out of control. She glanced at Alec, who had been watching the scene unfold with a concerned expression.

Alec stepped forward, his eyes locking onto (Y/N)'s with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "I need to numb your emotions," he said firmly.

(Y/N) nodded, unable to speak as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Alec extended his hand, and a soothing wave of calm washed over her. It was as though a heavy fog had settled in her mind, dulling the frantic panic that had taken hold.

Demetri, still bewildered, retreated from the training area to alert the kings about the unexpected turn of events. Meanwhile, Jane approached Felix, her crimson eyes focused. She reached out with her own unique power, attempting to rouse him, but there was no response.

She persisted, her brow furrowing in concentration, but it was as though Felix had been locked in time. The others watched, tense and worried, as minutes passed without any sign of change.

Finally, the kings, Aro, Caius, and Marcus, accompanied by another formidable vampire, entered the training chamber. Aro's eyes, which seemed to miss nothing, scanned the scene before him.

Alec, sensing their presence, withdrew his powers from (Y/N), allowing her to regain control of her emotions. She gasped for breath, still shaken by the events.

Aro, with his perceptive gaze, turned his attention to (Y/N) and inquired gently, "My dear, what happened here?"

Trembling, (Y/N) recounted the events that had transpired—the fierce training with Felix, her newfound power, and the inexplicable immobilization of her training partner. Panic threatened to overtake her once more, but Aro's calming presence held her in check.

Caius and Marcus exchanged knowing glances, while the other vampire in their company observed with keen interest.

Aro stepped closer to (Y/N), his voice soothing. "You have a unique gift, my dear," he said, his tone filled with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. "One that we have never encountered before."

Aro's crimson eyes gleamed with curiosity as he watched (Y/N) closely. His fascination with her newfound ability had not waned since their encounter in the training chamber. He decided to delve deeper into this enigma and turned his attention to the other vampire who had accompanied them.

"Scan her, and tell us what you find," Aro ordered, his voice smooth as velvet.

The other vampire, whose power lay in the ability to discern the presence or absence of abilities in other vampires, stepped forward. Their eyes met (Y/N)'s, and in an instant, their expression shifted from curiosity to astonishment. Their eyes widened, an unprecedented reaction that had never occurred during their countless assessments.

Caius, growing impatient, broke the silence. "Well, speak already! Is this the doing of a gift, or are we wasting our time?"

The assessing vampire nodded slowly, their voice measured. "Yes, it is the result of a gift," they replied, their tone filled with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty. "But it is unlike any gift we have ever encountered."

(Y/N) felt a pit of dread forming in her stomach. The anticipation in the room was palpable, and she couldn't bear the weight of their scrutiny any longer. "What... what is it?" she stammered, her voice quivering.

The assessing vampire hesitated, their gaze still locked onto her. "It appears that (Y/N) possesses the unique gift of life and death," they explained carefully. "She has the ability to both end and restore life to a vampire, even when they have been incapacitated."

A stunned silence fell over the chamber as the revelation sank in. Aro, Caius, and Marcus exchanged incredulous glances, while the other guards looked on in a mix of awe and uncertainty.

(Y/N) felt her heart sink as the implications of her power became clear. Her mind raced back to the training chamber and the moment when she had unintentionally restored Felix to life after immobilizing him. She had never meant to wield such a gift, and the consequences of her actions weighed heavily on her.

"I didn't know," she muttered, panic lacing her voice. "I didn't mean to..."

Aro raised a calming hand, his expression thoughtful. "There is no need for distress, my dear. Your gift is a remarkable one, and it may prove invaluable to the Volturi. We shall train you to control it and ensure that it serves our purposes."

Despite Aro's reassurance, (Y/N) couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at her. She had unintentionally brought back a fellow guard, altering the course of events in the most unexpected way.

(Y/N)'s heart raced with a mixture of fear and curiosity as she watched Felix being led away by Alec and Jane. She couldn't help but worry about what lay in store for her, especially after learning the true nature of her unique gift.

Turning her gaze to Aro, she voiced her concerns. "What's going to happen to me?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Aro's smile remained serene as he responded, "Nothing to worry about, my dear. You will receive training to harness your abilities properly, and you will become a valuable asset to the Volturi."

Relief washed over (Y/N) at Aro's words. She trusted the guidance of the Volturi, despite the unexpected turn her life had taken.

Her gaze drifted to Marcus, who had remained silent during the discussion. His eyes held a deep understanding, and she couldn't help but ask, "What happened to Felix?"

Marcus sighed softly, his voice gentle as he replied, "It appears that when you used your abilities on him, it not only ended his life but also brought him back in a human state."

(Y/N) was stunned by this revelation. Her gift had the power to bring a vampire back to their human state? It was an astounding discovery, one that left her with more questions than answers.

The assessing vampire who had revealed her gift's nature stepped forward to explain further. "It's a complex interplay of life and death, (Y/N). When you unintentionally ended Felix's life and then brought him back, it seems to have triggered a transformation back to his human state."

Aro, his eyes gleaming with fascination, absorbed this information with a calculating expression. He said nothing but appeared to be pondering the implications of her gift.

(Y/N) was still trying to process the extraordinary turn of events. She hadn't meant to turn Felix human, and the fact that her abilities had such a profound impact on him left her bewildered.

"I didn't know," she whispered, her voice filled with remorse.

Aro, ever the observer, spoke softly, "My dear, your gift is a wondrous discovery. It may hold secrets and possibilities beyond our current understanding. Rest assured, we will study it further."

(Y/N) couldn't shake the overwhelming desire to see Felix. She had unintentionally changed his life, quite literally, and the weight of that responsibility weighed heavily on her. With the kings' permission granted, she was led to the room where Felix was being kept.

As she entered the room, her eyes widened in amazement. There he was, Felix, sitting on a bed and looking every bit like a human. It was a sight she couldn't have imagined, and it filled her with a mixture of awe and remorse.

Felix looked up as she entered, and a warm smile spread across his face. "Well, look who it is," he greeted, his voice tinged with amusement.

(Y/N) couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude that he wasn't holding what had happened against her. "Felix, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.

He waved off her apology with a chuckle. "No need to apologize, (Y/N). It's not every day you wake up as a human after being a vampire for so long. It's... an interesting experience."

Feeling a surge of relief and happiness, she couldn't contain herself any longer and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. But in her excitement, she momentarily forgot her newfound strength.

Felix winced, his face turning slightly red as he struggled to breathe. "Careful there," he managed to say through strained breaths.

Alec and Jane, who had been standing nearby, quickly stepped in. "Easy now," Alec cautioned. "Remember, he's human, and you have to be more delicate."

(Y/N) released her grip on Felix, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, Felix. I forgot."

Felix let out a hearty laugh, his humor infectious. "No harm done," he assured her, his smile never fading. "Just reminds me how much it sucked being a human."

As the three of them shared a moment of laughter

The harmonious laughter between (Y/N), Felix, Alec, and Jane was abruptly interrupted as the door to the room swung open. Aro entered, his presence commanding immediate attention. His smile remained charming, but there was a hint of business in his demeanor.

"My dear (Y/N), I'm afraid it's time for you and the others to leave," Aro announced, his voice carrying a note of finality.

(Y/N) exchanged a worried glance with Felix, uncertainty gripping her. "But what's to happen to Felix?" she asked, her voice quivering.

Marcus, ever the one to speak the truth, stepped forward. "Felix is a valuable member of our guard, and we cannot afford to lose him," he explained. "He will be changed back into a vampire."

Aro nodded in agreement, adding, "It is the only way, my dear. Felix will return to his duties, and you will continue your training. We have a destiny to uphold."

(Y/N) felt a mixture of relief and sadness wash over her. She had grown fond of Felix in the short time they had spent together, and knowing that he would be changed back into a vampire was bittersweet. She nodded, her understanding clear.

The three of them, Alec, Jane, and (Y/N), prepared to leave the room, but not before one last look at Felix. His expression was a mix of gratitude and determination, ready to embrace his role in the guard once more.

As they exited the room, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility weighing on her. Her unique gift had brought about both wonder and challenges, and her journey among the Volturi was far from over. Felix's transformation back into a vampire was a reminder of the complexities of their existence, and it was a chapter in her story that would shape her path in ways she had yet to discover.

[viridianevergarden]

In Spite of it All (Part I)

A/N: I’ve been cooking again I fear. A new little fic I have made that will have multiple parts. I don’t know how many lol. The plan is for it to be Dual POV between Elriel. I hope you enjoy my madness.

Summary: Since Nyx’s birth, Elain has put herself forward as the family dinner cook as of late. Through the course of her long day’s work to prepare dinner for her loved ones, something unexpected happens.

Word Count: 5.7K

Key: sfw, Hurt/Comfort

Possible triggers: Not much, really. This one’s safe.

It was a family dinner night. A night that Elain had always looked forward to nowadays. Since Nyx’s birth, the occasional group dinners became more frequent. A few days a week where everyone in the Inner Circle gathered under the roof of the townhouse to laugh and dine together, and of course, to see precious Nyx.

And being one that enjoyed cooking and baking as much as she did, Elain had made an obligation out of it as she always had.

On days like this, she had to wake up early to begin preparations and plans in the kitchen. To decide what was on the menu for everyone and to set everything in motion, all for dinner to be finished at a reasonable time.

Ever the supporters they were, the wraith twins, Nuala and Cerridwen had also involved themselves in the hard work, claiming that a friend doesn’t perform that immense of a task all alone. Even if it was their job to help out in general just as they always had, Elain couldn’t find it in herself to thank them enough every single time. And so Elain spent most of the day in the kitchen busying herself with the twins by her side.

Here she stood, as she had been since dawn, flouring and kneading dough on the kitchen island. Elain kneaded the bread dough silently, focused entirely on her work. Nuala and Cerridwen were on the other side of the kitchen working on their own sides that they tasked themselves with.

Press and fold, press and fold, press and fold—

The words repeated in Elain’s mind as she worked, though she failed to realize that Nuala had called her name. Called her name again. Again.

“Elain?” A shadowy hand touched her flour-covered forearm. Elain flinched slightly, looking over at Nuala with wide eyes.

Her breath caught and then she swallowed in recognition. “Oh– Sorry, I was a little too focused. Yes?”

Cerridwen angled her head from afar, listening in silently as she whisked a pan of cooking lemon curd for one of the cakes that were to be made.

“Are you alright?” The half wraith gave her a comforting smile, minding none of the flour that now covered her hand.

“I am,” Elain reassured her with a smile of her own. “Was there something you needed?”

Nuala shook her head. “I was just checking in on you. Your face looked… Troubled.”

“I promise I’m alright, thank you for asking.” Elain beamed another smile at her before getting back to her kneading.

The twins exchanged a quiet look between one another when Nuala turned around. Elain had guessed that they didn’t believe her, though she wasn’t going to attempt to reinforce her claim.

Truth be told, news had indeed put a damper on Elain’s mood today. Feyre had forewarned that Lucien was coming to dinner tonight, just for the night. Per Feyre’s own request, she had guessed. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t before, especially since he first showed up in the Night Court but—

Her beloved sister’s persistence had always troubled her. Regardless of what Elain had said in the past, what she had declared and tried so hard to make clear in the kindest way she knew how, she— they both persisted through it all in some weird hopeful way.

Perhaps it was because Elain didn’t understand. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she hadn’t experienced the magical level of love or the ultimate correctness that her sisters had felt with their mates yet.

The circumstances had made her question, well, everything. Question why her bond had snapped into place so suddenly. Questioned why the sensations were merely akin to a tug on a rib. Questioned the—

Visions suddenly flit through Elain’s mind, cascading across her vision and echoing in her ears.

Clock hands striking an hour before midnight, the groaning of wood, the deafening shatter of glass, the loud cries of an infant, the feelings of fear and confusion, panic and anxiety—

And then they were gone as fast as they came.

Elain’s movements slowed to a stop, her hands merely falling to rest on the floured wood surface. More damning visions that haunted her. But these— These were extreme.

The female quickly finished kneading the dough before placing it into a large glass bowl and covering it in order to allow it to rise. She then cleaned her hands at the sink and took off her apron to set aside.

“I’ll be right back.” The twins blinked at one another before giving Elain the okay. She then hurried out of the kitchen, beelining for the nearest bathroom.

Elain closed the bathroom door behind her and took a deep breath, focusing entirely on the intricately designed black and white tiled floor.

Nearly all of Elain’s visions were disturbing in some way. They had always foretold all sorts of things, be they as serious as an attack or as minor as who would show up at the townhouse. Even in her dreams, they plagued her. But this vision had seemed— Elain knew that it foretold something happening within the townhouse. An infant’s cry— Nyx. Baby Nyx.

Not her nephew. Her precious nephew. If any harm came to him, to Feyre, anyone here— She had to tell them, Rhysand and Feyre.

Elain pushed herself off of the rich wood door, stepping forward to look herself over in the mirror. She was a mess, or so she thought to herself.

Her hair was messily braided off to the side, the length of the braid ending at her hip. Her bangs were no better, messy as they were, barely hanging on to where they were tucked behind her pointed ears.

Flour had also somehow ended up dusted on her cheek, though that came as no surprise to her. Such things always happened when she was absorbed into her craft.

She let out a quiet sigh and took a few minutes to clean herself up and look presentable, although she knew she was bound to get messy again, possibly even more so later on.

As soon as they arrived, she’d decided, Elain would let Feyre and Rhysand know what she saw. At the very least, they should know.

Taking one last deep breath to calm herself, she walked back out of the bathroom and returned to the kitchen to continue her work. After all, there was much for her to do. Even if disturbing sights haunted her every move.

~ ~ ~

Read the rest on here (AO3)

Check out my other Elriel oneshot (AO3)

[inthememetime]

Cursed necklace DPxDC AU

Vlad is a 24yr-old student who dies in college...in the early 1900s. Since then, he has haunted the University of Wisconsin by virtue of his his old necklace.

He likes the school- and the students like him! Since photography became accessible, students, teachers, staff, and visitors alike have been trying to get photos with him, students bribe him to help with homework (after all, he's been auditing classes for a century), mainly with cheep beer, fried cheese-related foods, and (since some kid introduced him to the Green Bay Packers), Packers memorabilia.

The students leave the game on for him, and the brave ones turn the lights off and leave a spot open for him in the hopes of seeing the Wisconsin University ghost up close and personal. (If they combine this with cheese sticks and beer, it's a near guarantee).

In general, he's a beloved figure. But then the Fentons start college there. At first, it's cool! These humans have made machines to let them listen to him (with some translation errors), they're building a portal to the GZ, which means he can have other ghosts to talk to, again, and they're fun!

Oh. Wait. They're being kicked out because they tried something unethical. Oh well! Somebody just turned on a Packers game, and he can smell the cheesesticks already.

Little does he know, the Fentons have created their prototype thermos. Until his necklace (and due to the lack of ambient ectoplasm), essentially his core is in there.

For 15. Long. Years.

Danny- not as Phantom, just Danny- finds the box and, with the curiosity of a 9-year-old opens the box. Soon, he's contaminated, despite his new buddy trying to keep him safe. And dies. Yep 9 year old Phantom.

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE! See Damian was a TWIN! Bruce is, when he tracks down said twin, Very Displeased by the lack of safety measures, and takes his other biological son (and his son's sister who is only 12 rn) home with him.

Bruce does NOT know about his hitchhiker; a centuries-old vampire ghost. He also doesn't know Danny's dead. More under the cut!

Clark gets mind controlled and tries to start a fight. Tries being the operative word here, because his 9-year-old is fighting a grown Kryptonian. And winning.

Plasmius steals cheese a lot, turns TVs to Packers games, and is generally a nuisance. Constantine is called.

Constantine has a new best friend because holy shit, a real ghost who's willing to talk to him! He can get so much info!

Bruce: Can you get him out of my house? Plasmius: Where Danny goes, I go.

Danny: Hey, can I have this? *eats a blob ghost in front of everyone*. *shares half with Plasmius*

Constantine is both horrified and curious. Clark gets punted across state lines by a vampire ghost who was Not Happy his kiddo got in a fight. Jason gets therapy a la a 12-year-old girl, a 9-year-old half-dead kid, and a centuries-old ghost.

There's enough ambient ectoplasm to thrive on, so Plasmius can roam and Danny can start learning powers. Vlad starts teaching Jason on the sly too.

Danny starts talking to bats, cats, rats, and a snake Damian rescued. Damian takes him to break into zoos to see what else he can talk to. Bruce is tired.

Plasmius uses his doubles for housework purposes in exchange for cheese from Alfred. Alfred abuses this shamelessly to drag Bruce up from the cave and make him eat.

Jasmine is Aggressively Normal. To the point where they're considering therapy, but then she gets kidnapped, talks to Harley, and embraces her alter identity as The Mindflayer.

Ok fine, she admits that is a little villainous. Maybe she can be Wraith or something? "Look, it seems you guys are being a little too upset about-", " Jazmine, you turned the Joker into a vegetable." Jason: YEAH she did! C'mon, we're going to have some fun, kids!

Just- Bruce thought he was getting two kids from an abusive household. He did NOT sign up for 2 half-dead OP kids, a cheese and football-obsessed vampire ghost, and a...NO, Danny, you CANNOT keep the giant green hellhound. Damien, stop encouraging him!

[cowboylament]

“With 50 years behind us…” Lucien said, his eyes looking at my lips. I let mine look at his for the first time in many years. That first night I’d seen him I noticed them. He didn’t even glance, didn’t even look in my direction or notice me until he found me with Eris. I’d felt so young, so childish, wanting to be under his gaze. Now I was no different, or entirely different. I wanted to know what they felt like, if they too were warm. 

“And what about real life?” I asked.

“What about it?”

“When things return to normal, as they will, you'll feel differently.”

“And?”

“And I will be left to want what I have never wanted before.”

Lucien smiled, there was a flicker of amusement but his brows mirrored the confusion mine had only just displayed. I knew that our real life was too close, always waiting to take us back to the places where we existed, where these things shared did not reign or govern anything.

or

Y/N doesn't know what Lucien meant Part One, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Bonus, Ao3

I slept for the first three days. One by one my court, save Amren, kept me company in my room. Cassian joined me for dinner and Rhys was always there for breakfast. Morr laid in bed with me late into the afternoon gossiping about one thing or another. Azriel too, who had arrived late into the evening, returned over and over I think with a guilty conscience for not having been there from the start. 

The only other absent party was Lucien. 

I waited for him that first day. Even with the visits of others, their chatter, my mind was half in the silence of elsewhere. The house remained quiet, absent of life. There was no extra noise, no recurring sounds. He’d said we’d go back and we had. The future would look the same but in Velaris. 

On the fourth day, sleep did not appeal any longer, though sitting idle wasn’t much better. I couldn’t keep my attention on any book for longer than half a page, so I took long stretches by staring out the window. The fall breeze had begun to sweep through rattling the glass. I could see the chill like it were as real as the sun, the houses, like the air temperature took a realized shape on the horizon. 

“I brought this for you.” 

Morr had stopped knocking, not that I had much to hide. In her hands was a heaping plate of food, twin to her own. 

The talking points had not changed, we recycled the same topics even as they grew stale. Despite what she’d wanted to know the first night back she had not again brought up Lucien and when she did it was always in passing. Something about him staying in his room or the glares that had passed between him and Rhysand while I was being stitched up. She lingered over no topic, looked without longing to understand the events that had led to our arrival at the townhouse. 

“I saw Lucien on my way up.”

The scrape and clink of our silverware was the only noise. A false casualness, a feigned indifference.

“He emerged from his room then.”

“He joins us for meals now, sometimes I see him go into the library.”

When the days got long and boring, and night swept in before I could grow tired with it, I imagined his reason for not coming upstairs was because he’d left. I couldn’t imagine him anywhere in Velaris particularly, which frightened me. I could only imagine him existing in places we’d already been. In the Day Court library, in Adriata. If he left this city there was no coming back. I could do nothing for him.

 I don’t know if this reality was worse, but with similar ease in wounding him, he could bother me just the same as ever. We’d each saved the other's life so we were even. He owed me no visits, I needed no explanation. The fact that he could bother me just by not being here led me to believe it was better he not come at all. 

“Well,” I said, discarding my plate to my nightstand. Its clatter was the loudest noise to hit the house in the last few days. Everyone had taken to the same quietness as the wraiths. “He can be social when he wants to be.”

Morr pushed some food around. She wanted to know still, I made no mistake in that. Whether she’d been wanting to be polite or was waiting for me to broach the topic again was unclear. Even now, however, she said nothing. She moved to topics of dinner at the house of wind.

“He said he wants to talk to you first though.”

“About?”

“Well, I could venture a guess,” Morr said, relaxing into the usual conversations again. She threw herself into the pillows on the other side of my bed and buried herself into them. “I imagine he wants to get an idea of how you’re feeling about it all now that some time has passed.”

“He thinks I’d change my mind? I woke up and wanted Lucien dead?”

She sighed, “no, I think he just knows that night was intense and emotions were high.”

He acted this way with no one else, asking more than once if they meant it, what they wanted, or what they’d said. For all its well intentions I wondered if he found me so fickle, weak. It didn’t matter that words were the only thing I had, the thing I felt good at. It was distinctly brother, all other second-guessing came in the form of strategy, came from a High Lord. For as rare as it occurred, it evoked also the rare moment of doubt, questions if I weren’t in part given this job for the sake of having one.

“We can’t go back,” I said. 

“Why?”

“I don’t know but we can’t.”

Morr leaned up onto her elbow and retreated into the routine casualty we’d spent most of our lives sharing secrets with like there was nothing new about this. “If you wanted to take it back you could.”

“It's not that I wish to take it back, it's just different.”

“I found him here you know, that morning after.”

I had assumed he’d left on his own. After staying up all night he’d become too tired to sit any longer or he’d fallen asleep and it began to hurt his neck. I assumed he wandered downstairs and never came back. If he’d said anything, of why we were there, Morr didn’t reveal it and she’d get no words from me either. Silence passed. I checked my bandages, they were in place as I knew they were. I pressed down my collar, brushed my hair back, winced with the effort. I returned her stare only after I felt sufficient time had passed. 

“All these years you said he didn’t care about you. What is this I’m seeing now?” She asked.

“Emotions were high you said as much. He certainly hasn’t been particularly warm since.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“How do you feel?” The words at last burst from her, she couldn’t wait any longer. 

I threw my hands up with an exasperated sigh. There was no way to say it, I feel like I went to one world and woke up back in my own. And it all looks the same, but nothing is. I have to operate now, with the feelings of this one and the knowledge of the other and they can’t intertwine. 

Morr let out an equally frustrated laugh. Her’s was less malicious, but I felt the annoyance nonetheless. She just wanted to know, as she knew everything else before this. She was used to having my feelings and thoughts available to her. The males of ages ago at the time of their occurrence held little weight. It meant nothing to talk of them, their ends were understood and guaranteed. We’d spend hours in this very room, this very bed, going over every little detail. Now she wanted words for something that words did not exist for. 

“You told me about everyone else.” She stood from the bed and made to grab her plate. When she looked back at me, saw the look on my face, my stare, all annoyance had vanished. I half hoped Lucien was suffering my own brooding, though I had not felt much of his. She gave a half smile before rolling her eyes.“He’s different then.”

“I’m different.”

***

The following morning Rhysand brought with him no breakfast. I stretched at the knock he gave my door and the pain, though it was sitting beneath the skin, did not linger as long as it had before. When I called him in he remained in the hall.

“You’ve been given leave to haunt the rest of the house and not just your room.”

“Thank you for the warm welcome.” I threw the blankets off and with the most careful of movements rose out of bed. It took me less time than it had these past few days, but it was clear the wound still caused issues. Rhys walked over to put his arm out for assistance after I was up.

“Please, try to reel it in, your bedside manner is suffocating.”

“If you want to be treated like a baby you should have asked me to send Cassian.”

Rhys on our walk downstairs told of all the inhabitants of the townhouse. Lucien’s name remained absent in the reports of the latest comings and goings. As we made it down the stairs I half expected, even with the house empty, some sound would have returned to the world. That because I could leave my room the city outside the walls would slip in, that life reverted back to its ways with us. No, the world remained eerily quiet. 

In further disarray, my brother turned us left into the office rather than toward the dining room. I could smell the food beyond the threshold. When I saw the plates waiting, the tea, I stopped. Our arms slipped out from each other and he turned to see the issue.

“It's just breakfast,” he said when he saw the weariness of my posture.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well, that's too bad. I have your favorites.”

We were both lying. It was not just breakfast and I was certainly hungry, he knew that and I knew that. The sound of my hunger could likely have been heard the moment he took that first step upstairs. Just as the sight of his office alone tipped me off on what this was really about. I wasn’t sure I could give him what he wanted. He, like Morr, was impossibly settled in some old way of thinking, of acting, that no longer was of any use to me here. He hesitated though, throwing his hands in his pocket, looking around the room with all the nonchalance of someone guilty.

“Morr said you want to know how I’m feeling about all this.”

“I might, but it's possible that I might also want to enjoy some quality time with my sister you know.”

“It's possible though unlikely.”

His eyes narrowed at me and though they remained playful, I sensed that a High Lord lay beyond them. Our game was coming to a close and an order was waiting.

“Things are a little time-sensitive right now, but we can talk about whatever you can talk about and then if we need to come back to it we’ll come back to it.”

When my brother had said we’d talk later it occurred to me that while I had made it out of the woods, Lucien had not. Part of him was still dangling there, or in between, running. He was safe but only within the confines of specific formulas. What terrible things happened to those who broke bargains. I’d avoided death of a terrible kind, what would be made of me if I didn’t uphold my end? It made my palms sweat, how easily this membrane could break, and how fast all that flooded it would end what had barely begun. 

“Ever the negotiator.”

Rhys heaved a sigh of relief. I knew he understood that I wanted to, to tell them of what was going on, but he couldn’t figure out why I wouldn’t. Nevertheless, an easygoing smile returned to his face, but I didn’t take it for mockery. He said, “part of the job.”

We ate breakfast from the two armchairs. It was just the same as we had the mornings before, where what lacked in formality allowed the relaxation of family and the sharing of private jokes. The normalcy of it, of knowing what to say and how to make him smile, was of some comfort. When I leaned back against my seat, full, all that had once been terrifying in its abstract had moved into sharper clarity.

“Alright. Let's get it over with,” I said.

“We can begin wherever you see fit.”

I half expected some resistance, some confrontation, but when he said that it was obvious he wouldn’t be that way. It was my choice, and it had always been my choice. Even when he’d found out I was mated he’d lectured on my safety, but in the end, there had been some understanding that whatever I wished would be allowed. Things now were more complex but it was a good feeling, and an open one, the confidence of knowing someone was ready to listen to you rather than thinking I’d argue with a wall. 

“Everything I said still stands. I haven’t changed my mind or rethought it, and it's not because I was injured that I said it. This isn’t his fault, what they did.”

I didn’t have to say who. To name Lucien implied a level of tolerance I did not have. The bargain had been made and the mating bond existed and something in me wound tightly with the strings of fate had pulled me this way.

“How do  you visualize him here, in Velaris?”

“I don’t, I can’t, but I don’t think that means he won’t do well. He’s unfortunately good at what he does.” I relaxed into that statement just a bit, letting my eyes close on the images of us in the very same rooms over the years. People spoke warmly of him, even to me.

Rhys raised a brow, “you’d work with him?”

“It's not as if we haven’t already. If anything I’d see less of him. I’d speak to whoever they send from Autumn now. Somewhat ideal.”

“But you’d still see him, in this city. And if I made him part of the court, would the close proximity make you...”

“Explosive?” I offered.

“Rash.”

If we could avoid each other in a single house, moving through rooms seamlessly, how little we’d see each other when we’d have free reign of all the rest. Who was to say though, how we’d be now. That remained the most important factor of all, and it was entirely unknown. It doesn’t have to be this way forever. Though forever seemed bent out of shape, half submerged, hidden from view. My pursuit was aimless, not the least without having seen him again, seen how he’d be. Maybe it was this that was different, the level of our tempers and the deepness of the crease in our brow. Or maybe it was some other thing entirely, we knew something we had never known, of that impossible distance in death. He could indeed stray too far from me. 

“I don’t think it will be an issue,” was all I said.

Rhys huffed a laugh, but I watched his thoughts carry him away. I pulled at a loose thread of my pants, letting the fabric run in two directions, the thin line curving around the thigh. 

“I can’t tell you much else.” I began, “not even because you’re my brother I just don’t know what to say. It cannot be undone, whatever happened out there. But I can’t have the pressure also of having to prove to you something you don’t really desire to believe.”

“How do you mean?”

“You don’t trust him.”

Rhys winced, “well I don’t know his intentions.”

“That's why you had Azriel’s shadows in my room then, when he was there.” It was not like the shadow of death, what had shaken the chandelier. And despite the wind of the past few days, no draft had been strong enough to repeat it. It took me about two days of watching the window to work it out.

“I wanted to know if he was telling the truth.”

“And?” I didn’t think Lucien was lying but the certainty would be an added relief, to know what he thought. The mortification of their intrusion had already subsided after a few sleeps. It wasn’t worth the argument, I realized honestly that it only bolstered mine. He was not his family. Their watching had relieved a pressure, rather than adding to it for once. 

“Well if you’re going to fall for a few cheap lines..”

It didn’t matter to me that he was joking, a sharp pain spread across my chest like a shattering glass. Wherever Lucien was I’m sure he’d be feeling it. This might even have been the first thing he’d felt from me since we’d arrived. 

“Don’t be cruel.”

Rhys leaned forward as if he could backtrack, “I’m just saying. He’s from Autumn.”

“For a court that praises itself on making a new world, you’re awfully content to go with your old way of thinking when this new world shows up.” This struck him, truly, I could see it in the way he straightened, how his familiar posture turned more formal, considerate. “If you don’t intend to change then I have intentions too and I won’t waste my time. I’m too tired.”

The wind let out two howls, then another, before he released something from him that had been lingering, a tension or a breath.

“You trust him?”

“Yes.”

“And you like him?” 

I put a hand out, “let's not get ahead of ourselves.” 

He and I laughed, really laughed then for the first time in days. Not even because it was particularly funny, but for what it released. I think what had gone from him was that momentous weight of something so small as almost, almost losing the last family you have left. Almost not making it back, a minute too late, a mile too far, far too many almosts had been in place. But everything had happened as it did and I was here and at least to him, I was more or less the same. 

“I was worried your mate’s habits were rubbing off on you. You’ve become so serious.”

“I was just bored. How many times can I listen to you or Cassian talk about the time you had to walk up all 10,000 steps to the house of wind? At least my mate offers me some different entertainment.”

“So I heard,” Rhys smiled.

“Cassian’s a loudmouth.” 

“Oh no, you outed yourself that night. It's a quiet house and if I hadn’t nearly killed Lucien for the laugh he got when he heard I might have joined in when you’d admitted it. I’m not surprised though, you always liked to choose the males I hated.”

I rolled my eyes, “You’re insufferable and you’d probably like Lucien given that his jokes are always at my expense.”

“Well if he joins this court he’ll fit right in.” I met his stare, the amusement there and I knew he was making an offer to me as my brother first. “I’ll claim your mate.”

I wanted to feel better than I did, wanted to feel I’d done something, but nothing came of those words. It wouldn’t be as easy as sending a letter, Beron would take pleasure in the torment of it all, as he always did, as he always does. He’d want something.

“Thank you.”

“I thought you’d be happy,” he said.

“So did I.” 

Nothing had really been resolved. I still knew nothing. I had no frame of reference for the future or even the previous understanding of the deal we’d made of the bond with its rules and obligations. Everything was hinging on something else, and the thought that everyone in this court would be watching, wouldn’t even be able to help themselves by meddling in it, made my stomach hurt.

I closed my eyes, a lethargy overtaking me. “It doesn’t help much, having five people watch you mortify yourself.”

I could feel his amusement without looking. He didn’t get it though. I always knew what was going to happen, the stakes were low. No matter how I said it or showed it, that this was different, they didn’t get it. Lucien could be given refuge, could hear of our claiming, and decide to go anyway. The bond which had suddenly added so much weight to our world was still worth almost nothing. And they’d watch it happen, all the while meddling and probably making me look even less capable of having any power in this life at all.

“I’ll leave your business to you to work out.”

I opened my eyes just a bit, to reveal the slightest skepticism. 

He relented, “I can’t say what everyone else has planned.”

I groaned, sitting up straighter but found all the same I could laugh. I raised my glass to him, “Well let's at least hope we all find some entertainment.”

He raised his glass back and we sipped. I had no doubt it would be, this court always managed it. They probably already had a bet between them all going on how long it would take Lucien to move out. 

“Now.” Rhys sighed. “I need you to show me what happened that night.”

Presenting the memory to my brother didn’t bother me half as much as I thought it would, and it seemed twice as fast. Regardless he said nothing when he pulled himself from my mind, but he was rigid, eyes glazed over with thought. I asked him to walk me to the garden if only to rid him of the ailment. Just as soon as we walked into the hall, however, Lucien appeared on the other side. Rhysand took no small amusement in making himself scarce. He vanished completely behind his office door with some false excuse, the bastard. 

Lucien looked the same. I don’t know what I thought he’d look like, but I expected something palpable for me to hold onto. Something that would signal to me that he was telling the truth, that it didn’t have to be this way forever. In a way, what I really wanted, was for this to be easy, was for the change to arrive fully formed and realized, but that was rarely ever the case. 

“Surprised you’re still here,” I said crossing my arms. 

“Not as if I can leave.” He said taking a similar defensive stance. Even through the sweater he was wearing, I felt the presence of his skin, the warmth of his body. There were many things I couldn’t forget even as we appeared back in our usual place. 

“You’ve been busy then?” I asked, “Haven’t had the time to walk yourself upstairs to my room again?”

He was mad, “I hadn’t realized you wanted to see me.” 

“I assumed you’d be curious as to how I was doing.”

“You assumed wrong.”

A door shut somewhere in the house, but besides that the world was motionless. I couldn’t even see his breath, his blinks, and if I were doing so I didn’t notice or feel it. It was immovable, the circumstances, like a locked jaw, grinding teeth, we could only press further into ourselves or stay where we were.

Lucien cleared his throat, “big emotions this morning.”

My fists clenched on their own accord, “it hasn’t been easy.” 

Each word seemed abrasive compared to the silence around us. In contrast, however, a tautness softened in me where Lucien’s feelings had been. He cared, cared for what I’d felt. My body returned the sentiment in answer. I dropped my hands and softened back. For all this, however, he remained tall, as firm-faced as I was. What interior emotions, these years, had been lost to our shields?

“You could have asked for me,” he offered.

“I’ve certainly had the time to work that out.” 

His throat bobbed, something like exasperation with sorrow or maybe it was a guarded amusement because he knew that I could not ask him to come, the embarrassment of it. There was no winning. He’d laughed at me before, over any hint I’d been looking for him, but he found this self-preservation just as amusing. Even when he himself was just as guilty, he had offered nothing substantial that I myself did not give first. 

I felt it though, his hesitating, the strain of something, and he made to step forward.

“I don’t suppose Y/N has informed you of the news?” Rhys said appearing just when we might have grown not to need him. The silence of the hallway and all its tension had slipped beneath the door to his office and he must have taken that to mean we needed him. His arrival was enough for me to understand that though he’d offered me the privacy to deal with this on my own, he would still let it be known when he’d have done something differently. I don’t think he could move without at least two motives.

“No, she was so preoccupied with our warm hellos I suppose she didn’t think of it.”

I mirrored his dryness, “welcome to the Night Court.”

A surge of gratitude, relief, and grief, struck me square in the chest. I might have staggered backward, its intensity unannounced in every regard. He didn’t crumble even slightly at its weight, so I felt responsible not to give him away and remained where I stood. 

The relief made me relieved, the grief too I mourned. They were intertwined, and even if I wanted to I could never untangle them. Even if we were different, if we were mates who liked each other he had lost something I could never replace. We would both have to live with that. 

“Thank you, I know this isn’t an easy task. I appreciate the risk.”

Rhys shrugged, “you’ve risked more for less. It's time to see what we might make of this new life.”

My brother looked toward me and I reddened. Among the citizens of Velaris, we were known for our character, our real character. Beyond we were that terrible Night Court from the Hewn City. Lucien didn’t know of our dreams, of our aspirations, what we tried to do. To think that he might understand what was secretly spoken of, our hope for the new world, turned my stomach.

“I’m at your disposal,” Lucien said to Rhys though his eyes remained fixed on me.

“Good. Then you won’t mind taking my sister to the garden for fresh air and exercise.”

“Rhys,” I said but he was already walking away from us.

“Madja’s orders. After that, please, the both of you, try to settle in.” The doors to his study closed once more like he had work to do and I could practically hear him biting back laughter on the other side of the door. I’d have to ask what he thought it meant, letting me deal with my business. His only plans were probably to winnow to drinks with Amren and Morr. He had the time. When I turned back toward my mate he raised his brow.

I took a seat in one of the chairs sitting in the sun. I hissed, a tugging at my side sent a burning pain into my ribs. Lucien flinched forward but resisted. All I could do was laugh. When I showed him the way, for the first time in a long time, I noted he was uncomfortable. It amused me the way it might have before. I could tell, unlike Rhys, he wasn’t sure if he should offer me his arm or leave it and he seemed internally to be arguing with the two options. His eyes darted to my side, my elbow, and lifting his hand like a flinch he eventually let it settle between us untouched. If Lucien saw my pleasure or felt it he didn’t say.

“Can’t bear to be decent?” I said once he’d settled back from his intuitive desire. 

“I’ve never known you to want help with anything. Your ego would suffer.”

“How well you know me,” I said pressing my face up toward the sun. “Tell me what else have you picked up in your old age?” 

Lucien didn’t take the bait, “Rhys said you had to exercise.”

“Rhys is a busybody.”

“Well, he’ll soon be my High Lord.”

“And he’s already my brother,” I said, opening my eyes to meet his. We were once again at an impasse. A breeze hit the courtyard rustling the leaves and I felt it blow through my shirt with a slight chill. If it weren't for the sunlight I might have shivered. 

“Please,” Lucien said with great reluctance. Outside the city became him. It was clearer, not totally, but less obscure this idea of how to picture him in the city. I could see him moving along the Sydra, could even see him walking through the square. I tried to push him into places, the house of wind or Starfall, but those remained flimsy. For having seen him at so many parties, in so many dining rooms, those remained off-limits to me.

A spike of anxiety met me so I stood. 

We paced around the courtyard, lapping five times without another word. Neither of us looked at each other or even so much as accidentally brushed arms. When I began to lightly stretch, however, it became less simple. I tried to see the range of movement I had at first, twisting, reaching my hands, but it only took one over-estimation, one recoil, for Lucien at last to close the distance and grab my arm to steady me. 

He did not let up right away. It was no more a whisper of a touch, but he burned with embarrassment. I craned my neck, following the long expanse of his arm where heat radiated at his palm. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a remark which never came. The pain subsided, though it was not emotional pain, he seemed to feel it nonetheless. 

Just as soon as it dampened and I could breathe again Lucien said, “don’t hurt yourself.”

“What's it matter to you?”

He dropped me from his grip and stepped away. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Well aren’t you two getting cozy.” Cassian’s voice rang through the sunny space from his spying from the doorway. I moved too quick and winced again, but Lucien barely flinched—barely, but I saw. I corrected my posture but we’d already been caught, and regardless of guilt, how it looked left the Illyrian amused. 

“Not every male is as repellent to females as you,” I said. 

Cassian crossed the small distance and threw an arm around me, looking toward Lucien with a grin I knew well, the kind he liked to use before he demolished any sense of peace. 

“Has she told you she’s scared away every suitor in Velaris?”

I shrugged his arm off feigning my annoyance because something in me warmed that he was treating this situation as equally prosperous. A moment in which, by teasing me, I suspected he was attempting as he promised to welcome Lucien. He carved real space, smiled real smiles, in the direction of my mate. 

Lucien let his attention drift over to me just barely. “What don’t they like? Her stubborn attitude or her perpetual scowl?”

Admiration came down the bond. It shocked me, enough that I had no reply. Why it hadn’t occurred to me that he would do well here evaded me. I’d always thought if we’d been tolerable I’d have to leave this city, but now the other possibility seemed far more likely. He had the natural wit for it, to win them all over, even perhaps me. They didn’t need him in Autumn, didn’t want him. Here I just had to be sure they let him tease without shattering him.

“You know,” I said composing myself as Cassian bit back his laughter. “You should ask yourself why you let yourself believe that lie. Last I checked, this shirt doesn’t have holes for wings.” Cassian’s eyes drifted to my shoulder blades in confirmation. “Maybe I’m not as scary as you think. Or better, maybe you aren’t as scary as you think. You Rhys, and Azriel were all here when that male left without it.”

Cassian took it with good humor and a part of me thought, even anticipated, jealousy to dig itself out from my ribs. That's how it was supposed to be, primal and intrusive, annoying and vengeful, but not a ripple or a whisper moved within me. Instead, Lucien was smiling, more than he had been before. If I didn’t feel what he felt I might have mistaken the look for pride. 

Cassian switched the subject just as fast. “Lucien, I’ve learned you’ll be part of the Night Court now. Tell me, have you heard yet of a place called Rita’s?”

The following two days fell into routine. Lucien would find me after breakfast and we’d spend an hour in the garden, pacing and stretching. What he did after that remained a mystery. I didn’t ask and Lucien didn’t tell. Nor did he reveal his commitment or thought to the words we’d exchanged when we’d arrived. Instead, we became more like our old selves than ever, at each other's necks about everything.

“You got the okay this morning I hear.”

“Yes. Stitches come out next week.”

Lucien nodded then glanced toward my shirt. Yesterday the house was truly empty, and even then it was as if the whole structure was leaning in to listen, even the doors were at a slant.

“Back to your own clothes.”

“For a little. I like to visit the Illyrian village every so often.” He was less amused at that than when I’d joked the same with Cassian. A flicker of jealousy I hadn’t intended to unearth pulled between us, like it were meant to physically push us together. Had his words meant this, that our arrangement made those years ago would be what changed? My mouth curved up, turning away but letting him see me smile just enough to feel the intensity heighten within. At least I had some sense of control over him, this mating bond wasn’t utterly useless. I added, just to see, “If you wanted me to keep to myself you should have said so.”

“You think too highly of yourself. I’d take you to the Illyrians you love so much myself if it meant I could be rid of you.”

His door slammed with such force the whole house righted. It took all afternoon for the tightness in my chest to lessen. If he’d even show up today to take me to the garden I wasn’t sure. 

Azriel was the only one downstairs when I came to eat. He’d been busy after my conversation with Rhys, looking for information on Autumn Court. He didn’t report much to me, if anything. And he didn’t mention if his work led him to ask anything of Lucien. He was always good at that, breaking the illusion, ending the joke, that I was liked in consequence, that I was a byproduct of duty. Though he was a friend of Rhysands, he was my friend too and when we spoke he almost always picked our friendship first. 

“I can only assume everyone is handling our new guest with the utmost tact.”

“Cassian especially.”

“Has he told the story about the winter you spent at the cabin?”

“No, because he knows I have a story about him from the last summer solstice.”  

 “Care to share?” Azriel smiled 

“When the time is right.”

He laughed and stood from the table. I could see from the windows the wind pushing its way through the trees with equal mix of splendor and violence. Autumn was arriving swiftly over the mountains. It seemed almost a disservice, really, to keep Lucien from the city. This was my favorite season, long before I met him. A trick of the Cauldron, a premonition I couldn’t shake. It pained me to miss it now. Did he feel the same?

“Where’s your brother?”

“House of wind. He’s bringing something up for dinner tonight. Amren probably requested her usual.”

The Shadow Singer nodded and made his way to the door. I followed behind him to look for the wraiths who I kept finding spying on Lucien. They were quite taken with him apparently. When I felt the sting of jealousy I fought the urge to shield. He hadn’t so I wouldn’t. There was no prize now for caring the least. We had power together and over each other. What one could do the other was just as capable. 

Since last seeing him I’d scarcely even felt him down the bond. I half expected to discover he was shielding himself, but every so often curiosity or amusement sometimes even endearment would give way to fear in my chest. I didn’t want to intrude upon his adjustment, but I’d stop what it was I was doing when that happened and try to think of what he could be doing to cause such a thing. I’d try to hear him in the house. It pleased me to find so little despair, to think of him wanting to know this place more fully.

The two quiet females were talking amongst themselves in the kitchen. I informed them that the dinner we were going to be having was formal and asked if they’d help prepare. They agreed, before delivering a message with amused glances back and forth.

“Lucien said he’d meet you in the garden.” 

I would have stared longer but he felt me there, in the doorway. Not the least maybe, for the strain with which seeing him look out at Velaris from the roof had managed to put on me. The autumnal colors behind him, along the hills in peak, brightened his face. The scene was becoming of him in the late morning light, he looked handsome, more handsome than before. 

I wanted to go back. That’s what I hated, what hurt. I wanted to go back to the night we’d arrived when I was brave, when I said the things and did the things I’d never have done. 

Worst of all, I wanted it even after he turned, and delivered without care, “took you long enough.” 

I began to pace without him, ducking behind a row of bushes that had opened a few weeks ago. The blooms scattered mostly at my feet now I stepped through them. Lucien had taken the single order of Rhysand’s to be law, take me to the garden. So he would. 

He fell in step with me once I made to pass him. The wind had changed, no longer a relief across the skin it arrived with hints of chill and, if it went on long enough, left a shiver in its wake. I wasn’t dressed properly, my shirt billowing open I crossed my arms to try and retain whatever heat I had which wasn’t much.  

“Do you always write in your books?” 

He wasn’t hostile, not even a little, despite what he’d first said. That wasn’t surprising anymore, how quickly the air between two people changed, mostly I was surprised by the fact that he knew my handwriting well enough to ask after it.

“Yes.”

He hummed, but we weren’t far enough from ourselves for him to reveal why he wanted to know. Morr had said he’d spent time in the library, he must have happened upon one book with ink in its margins. 

“What are you reading?” I asked.

“Folktales of Velaris.”

The last time I’d read that I hadn’t yet met him, let alone been mated. I must have been just barely 30, young. It’s hard to imagine what could be permanently inked into that book, I’d known so little then, next to nothing. Another cool breeze helped soothe the heat blooming on my face. We returned to silence, walking the garden twice before Lucien found cause to break it again.

“You like to read?”

“Yes. As do you?”

“Yes.”

Stilted conversation for someone I knew was capable of finding the precise words to be entertaining and an annoyance. I hadn’t even had to ask if he liked reading, going to the library seemed confirmation enough. Why he was asking, what it offered him, wasn’t clear. 

“Not everything has ulterior motive.”

I must have turned too fast. The question of how he’d known what I was thinking, which had been forming in my mouth, was overpowered by the sharp inhale. The autumn air pushed it back down to a point of insignificance, to the place where it no longer mattered. The startle of the pain brought with it shadows forming around us. Magic, all mine. 

Deep in my side a wave of burning pressed forward until it overwhelmed the place just below the skin. I couldn’t release it, couldn’t let the flame out, or turn into the shade and hope the darkness would smother it.

I bent forward. When my hand met the pain, another was already there. Not my own, warmer, larger. It was pulling me in, forcing me up.

“Stand up.” Lucien said and though his body held the heat of autumn under the skin his voice was cold with a familiar demand. If the pain had been less intense I’d never have listened. The tone alone was enough to give cause for a fight, but I elongated my spine, half by the force with which he pulled me into him and half with trusted intention to do as he said. My frame curved into his easily, taking his shape, like wax to flame. 

“You have to stretch,” Lucien said his mouth tucked so close to my ear his words passed through my hair and slid over the skin. His hand that I’d rested atop moved leaving my own behind, moving up my side. He applied pressure at my ribs. No cotton between his fingers and me, just skin, just his hand under my shirt. With each place he touched the pain diminished in size like he was moving it back toward the point of impact. His voice was disconnected from him, it told me to take a deep breath and I don’t know if I listened. Not at least on purpose, when I felt the air pass into my lungs. The burning vanished. 

I kept breathing, pressing our chests closer together then pulling them back apart. The pain seemed to linger nearby, like the moment we let go and moved it would come back. I was sure it would, and my fingers dug themselves deeper into Lucien’s clothes. I hadn’t even opened my eyes, couldn’t allow my consciousness to drift to the entirety of our position, all my focus was taken and I didn’t want to know how it felt to be this close. I wanted really for him to drop me before I could.

“Good girl,” he said.

I shoved out of his arms. 

He was already laughing before I could move away. The mixture of my embarrassment and his satisfaction doubled when he’d seen the blush that had formed on my face. He leaned against the railing, smiling smugly. 

All I managed to get out was, “pig.” 

“I don’t know if you’ve ever done as I said, thought it warranted a little praise,” He mused on the moments of the past, squinting his eyes like the memories we shared would appear before him and confirm his suspicions. “And I had a feeling you weren’t ever going to let go without encouragement.”

“You should’ve said something.”

“I did.”

I wasn’t used to this version of him, this idea. This was not our game, our routine. He’d called me a thousand things and good had never accompanied any of them. He’d shattered everything, all that normalcy we’d found in coming up here, in being our worst selves. 

“So this is your famous charm. I’m unimpressed.” I said finally.

He laughed, his usual arrogant laugh and I wanted to latch to it. If I could I’d have thrown it over the moment like a sheet. “Lucky for me I’ve never desired your good opinion.” Yes, back to the familiar. He would not make desire from our old lives, I wouldn’t let him. He added, “from what I remember you’ve bestowed it rather foolishly in the past.”

I scoffed, “And you’re any better? How's Tamlin?”

His gaze was more piercing than it used to be. I shifted under it, squirming, with the sensation that he understood me even better now than he used to, and even before he was impressive. There was rarely ever a time when he didn’t know which male I would go after at an engagement, what kind of mood I was in, and why.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said, his voice taking on that mean taunting tone he had when he wanted to get a rise at me, when he knew he’d held the right words in his mind. “How long did it take for you to break our deal? I can’t be too bad a claim if you saw fit to tell everyone we were mates.”

“25 years and I was drunk.”

He hummed, nodding along. He was enjoying himself. The circumstances didn’t matter and they never did. I could be crying and he’d still laugh, in fact, once in Winter Court he had. His gaze dipped down and then up once, the joy he’d gotten seemed to lessen with my admission. 

“Ilyrians are known to stomach unpleasantness, it's good you’ve found them.” He said pushing off the wall and standing just before me. Indifference settled into displeasure readily on him. I preferred this to everything, with such moods I could wound him like nothing. He thought he was shielding himself but I could read him just as easily if he was telling me his every thought down the bond.

“Is that all that matters to you Autumn males? That your partner is pleasant to look at?”

“I never said you weren’t pleasant to look at.”

Lucien said it like it were nothing. He even smiled like the displeasure never happened. He watched his words land and even I could admit that he had played the hand between us well. For him to admit something like that, then, now. I was envious. He’d gotten the upper hand and he’d never relinquished it, even when I thought we’d leveled out. He’d won and he knew, taking for himself one single prize, letting his eyes fall to my lips. 

I went to speak, but if there hadn’t been words before there was little chance of them appearing now. While he had never called me good, he’d also never given any suggestion that I was attractive. He avoided my appearance altogether with clear and cutting attacks.  I was always wretched, lousy, irritating, unskilled, or some other pinpointed insult that he had, for 50 years, wielded against me. Never though, ever, had he alluded to my appearance. 

“Your personality however could use some work,” He finished. 

Words returned and stumbled out of my mouth, but even with the force of snapping between us they didn’t have the desired effect. “Feel free to waste your miserable life out of my company.”

He bowed in mockery, pointing toward the door, “There's the exit.” 

I was already leaving. I passed Morr at the top of the stairs. She was walking with Azriel. Neither said anything, but they were, the pair of them, sharing twin smiles.

***

When I caught myself in the mirror I was embarrassed by my own lifelessness. Though death, in the end, had lost it still seemed to take with it souvenirs I imagined would be returned to me at a later date—some youth I had lost and could never get back. My skin seemed to drag down my face like its being there was a reluctant favor. My coloring had gone sallow, everything was limp. Even my hair seemed tired falling with great weight. I needed a proper rinse rather than the half bathing I had been allowed the week before.

I dipped below the water and closed my eyes, willing myself to feel the warmth of the tub within. I could think of no other remedy to bring it back, life reached toward warmth. It seemed to work, the longer I sat there the more real I began to feel, emptying the room-temperature water every so often and replacing it with something more scathing. 

Regardless, however, of my intention to return to myself the recurring thoughts always seemed to cycle through me with glaring direction toward Lucien. He’d bothered me before, but there was something infinitely worse about this version which seemed to be talking with a subtext I myself was unaware of or could not read the same as I had. We were different now, I’d have to learn all over again what I’d once instinctively understood. 

We used to be so good at it, understanding what the other meant, circling each other like wolves. It had been fun to do it, to wield something fatal like words and to know just the same that they’d never kill, they were actually anticipating the attack all along. For what it was worth I liked seeing him at a table, liked that it meant someone was there who could be counted on for a challenge. He’d look at me and I’d know precisely what each nod of his head meant, each gesture. We’d laugh all the while anger without violence, joy for the sake of pain. I loved hating him and I loved that he hated me, but looking back the fun of it seems to diminish in quality, vanishing almost entirely the further I looked to the past. 

All these years he found me pleasant to look at while I found him handsome and yet neither of us had ever said so. We were, perhaps, more transparent than we thought. We’d said more by omission than any other verbal demolition. Now even words were obscured by their meaning, by the direction his eyes faced when he said them. I knew nothing. Where was that universe we’d been to, where it had been seamless, easy even to slip into our sincerity? How do I get back? I didn’t want to be brave and yet with each day he didn’t return to me, I realized I would have to be. 

The wraiths combed out my hair, it was too painful to twist and reach back still. They did so with great care talking and laughing of the recent events and with each venture into the business of my mate I narrowly avoided them. I closed my eyes and dreamed of their gentleness when it had come from other people and other places. I returned endlessly to the night in that very room. When the brush got too close to my temple I recalled, against my will, the feeling of his fingers brushing the hair from my face. I rested my forehead against my knees. The two females grew quiet, talking only with each other eventually, one stringing in long thin strands of gold with ornate stars. It matched the dress. I looked like the night sky. 

Rhys had come halfway through to check when I’d be done, noting, that I was holding everyone up. When I got downstairs no one was there but him, smiling, in a suit that matched me. He had wine waiting. 

“Which is it, are you abandoning me or forcing me to spend time with you?” 

“I abandon you when it’s warranted.” 

“It was you who said you’d stay out of my business,” I said sipping the wine. Rhys’ agenda remained veiled. I don’t know what he got out of any of it, but regardless it was of little benefit.

“I said, I’d let you deal with your affairs. How am I to do that if you won’t even be in the same room as each other?”

I opened my mouth to reply but to do so incriminated me. Either we’d been together and he didn’t know about it which he’d tease me on or I’d admit he was right and therefore he had indeed needed to force us together. Worse, I’d have to pretend it didn’t bother me, that Lucien was always missing. Regardless he relieved me of having to do either. 

“How is it going with your mate.” 

“He’s even more charming up close.”

Rhys snorted. “You should have seen the glee Morr had in reporting to me of your fight in the garden.”

“No one shows any allegiance to my cause.”

“And what precisely is your cause, moping in your room? Not quite as captivating as mine.”

“And yours would be?” 

Rhys smiled and took a sip of his wine, shrugging like it were as equally unknown to him as it was me. I don’t know why I’d believed him in his office. It shouldn’t be of much shock that his letting me deal with this involved his own agenda. I could only imagine the entertainment he got in trying to parse out what was true, what he believed me to feel, or what all these years I’d told him. It didn’t matter that the time before was different and disconnected from the time now, so long as eventually what he said came true he’d feel he’d won.  

“I’m figuring it out, no thanks to you.” 

“All thanks to me. What do you think we’re all dressed up for?” 

He was even more nosy and self-important than I imagined. Forcing us all into a dinner with fine clothes just so what exactly, Lucien would have to sit next to me at dinner? “And suddenly you’ve got a keen liking for him. Weren’t you the one scolding me three days ago?”

“I’ve seen more of him than you, so there’s an argument to be made for me at least. Plus you looked worse today than you did when you arrived a week ago, it’s not hard to do the math.” 

“You don’t know what I want.”

He raised a brow at me, and I’d known then I’d been giving myself away. When he came in to see me as I was getting dressed I bet it was plain as anything the quiet of the room, one look from the wraiths.

I dropped my illusions, rubbing at my forehead. “Well, I wouldn’t even know if your guess was right, so stay out of it. You’re not helping me figure it out.”

“That would ruin our fun.” I glared at him, knowing he meant the court myself excluded, but he continued “I’ve placed a few bets and I’m interested to see if I’m right, especially tonight.”

“What bets?” 

Rhys moved toward the living room and spoke so even I could barely hear him. “Don’t let him get away with his behavior because he bats his eyes at you.”

“I can’t stand you.” 

“Good luck.” 

I went to get the last word in but when I turned, Lucien had been making his way into the foyer. Rhys ducked into the sitting room and as soon as he moved out of my sight the walls seemed to turn inward toward us.

He was still in borrowed clothes, but he was there. The hearth of the adjacent room was our only cover from curious ears. The logs shifted and cracked under the heat. It covered everything with a film of half-silence. Even his breathing, if he were, was masked by it. We were in nearly identical positions as we’d been just a few days previous, but instead of the tension pulling between us something light entered the room. I thought I heard a sigh of relief. 

“You look well,” He said stepping forward.

“I feel well,” the words left me with unintended softness, like the moment required it and on instinct, I played along. He pointed to the bottle of wine at the table and made it the rest of the way across the room.

“Is this for everyone?”

“Yes,” I extended him my glass, and in the light, I saw the imprint of my lips. I was so used to it, letting Morr or anyone finish what I could not commit to. He saw it too and as I went to pull back his hand fast, gentle, enclosed my wrist and took it from me.

“Thank you,” he said with the sincerity you have to whisper, and staring at the rim brought the mark of my lips to his own. Through the glass I watched them touch. They became indistinguishable from one another, where I had been and where he now was. A heat, not of embarrassment but some other kind I couldn’t name rose from the ground up, clouding my head. I watched it all. Even when he pulled away I kept my eyes where his lips had only just been. 

“Did you want a glass?” 

I nodded even though I didn’t. I had no words to explain something even as simple as the lack of a craving. He poured it anyway. The relief of the cool glass made it worth it and when I shifted so followed suit of everything else. You wouldn’t have even noticed that the world was off kilter had you not seen what I did, a kiss that hadn’t really happened. 

“I’ve never seen you in Night Court colors.”

“Females must honor, by dress, the court they’re visiting unless they’re married.” He’d not been to the Hewn City, not at least while I was there. He wouldn’t have realized it either, even with our years between us, it wouldn’t have mattered before. We were too busy with our disgust.

“I find it convenient,” I said sipping from my glass, “that you’re suddenly remembering your manners now that I’m pretty again.”

“You’re too smart to believe something so stupid as that.”

“What should I believe?”

He looked out the window, holding the glass up to his mouth but not drinking, not yet. “Whatever you wish as long as it’s not that.” Then he pressed his mouth to the same place he’d done before, and met my eye. A playful thread wrapped around his features and tugged. Even as he sippied I watched the indent at his mouth sharpen. Now that I'd admitted he was handsome it was as if no other word existed half the time for anything. Everything fell under its terms and yet nothing quite so specifically captured its beauty. Not at least, besides Lucien.

“You told me I couldn’t brood and you spent the greater part of the afternoon stewing. Care to share?”

Outside there was still no sign of the rest of our court. Rhys, if he was alone in that sitting room, had nothing to distract him from our conversation. Even had I wanted to admit to Lucien that I’d spent the greater part of the afternoon sitting in the bath thinking of him I couldn’t with my brother so close. 

“Not in the slightest.”

He hummed, “you think I won’t work it out?”

“I think you’re busy. You don’t need to waste time with my feelings when you have your own. And I wouldn’t even be able to tell you because I don’t remember every fleeting emotion and its cause.” 

“I do. There was some curiosity, a little regret, followed by periodic and yet endless somberness,” Lucien said groaning as if the feeling was truly endless and the weight of it had been unbearable even just in memory. 

“Next time it happens you could come and ask me.”

“Yes, next time then. I was busy today, spending my miserable life away from you.”

My small amusement could have been concealed but a breath of it caught the wine in my glass and some splashed onto my face so I was forced to wipe it away. Lucien said nothing. The bond warmed. 

 “And you?” I said finally when no taunt came. “Are you well?”

Despite how strained my chest became with my own desperation I hoped no matter how it struck, how much I wanted him to be enjoying Velaris, Lucien would still answer honestly. If he were to lie just to spare me I don’t know if I could forgive him. 

“Yes, in part.”

“Which part?” 

“The part that’s glad to see you at home and safe.”

“And the other, the one that’s not well?”

“The same as you, the piece that remains unwell.” 

Lucien’s gaze dropped to my side and beneath the skin, the cut ached like it knew he was looking. The part of him that lived within me strained with echoing ache, they recognized each other. The cut and the tether, like calling to like. I wanted to touch the pieces of him I found beneath my skin and soothe them, even if it were useless work. He’d be unwell until I wasn’t.

“If you can manage to fit it between your moments of somber,” he continued, “I was hoping you might show me Velaris.” 

“You’ve not gone and seen the city yet?” 

“No.” He said shifting on his feet a little, his eyes staring down into his glass without taking a sip. “It's yours. You should be the one to show me.”

Down the bond, something relaxed, serene, and it almost convinced me to join in on the feelings. He’d said this with a sense that there was nothing strange about it, while it seemed to me the opposite. He waited for me. He had never once waited for me. 

I wiped the sweat from my palms on my dress.“I’ll think of some places.”

“When you do, try to remember right now and not this afternoon in the garden.” 

“Why, you think I’ll take you somewhere seedy?” 

“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve got a gang of Illyrians in your honor waiting around some corner for me.” 

I let out a laugh. It burst from me and I made to cover my mouth. He watched me, something brightening on his face. I don’t know if I had ever done such a thing with him, or even around him—laughed like this. The real true laughter I had at home was reserved for private moments, so as to be polite for all the rest. I shook my head, attempting to stifle it, to recover. “None care for me so much.” 

Then he did something he does often, which was easy to miss if you didn’t know it. He looked at me. Not the kind of the past, eyes narrowed, waiting to strike, but a different one I’d seen him use before. Even as I hated him I’d know the first time I saw his face take on the look of intention, that he was seeing me truly and entirely. The first time it happened was the night before the bond snapped. We’d been standing in the hall, outside our rooms. 

“Your good blood is wasted,” he said the sky just barely dark enough to sleep. I could see the way the words showed up on his face, how he’d meant it. He laughed, “I don’t know anyone who’d have you.”

“Plenty of things exist regardless of your not knowing them.”

The blankets behind me rustled with movement and the Cauldron laughed. He glanced behind me but said nothing. He could surprise me even then. Instead, he looked at me as he was in the foyer, with something so intent on seeing the whole I was sure he really was. I let him. I waited for the moment where shame, fear, or even violation crept through the world where I was standing in my pajamas with so little grace. The longer I waited the less sure I was it would arrive. 

Even without the bond, I knew his curiosity as if it were in me too. 

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Lucien,” I said without thinking too long on the words or the fact we’d never said them, they were too polite and well intended. I closed the door and watched the blankets rise and fall where Kallias lay in a beam of light that wasn’t even half night, maybe only a quarter. 

The next day, despite the cold civility of our endings we’d returned twice as short with one another. But I couldn’t forget what had happened and never did. How could you? That something like that exists and you can tell the difference. When someone is looking with the acknowledgment of your person as unique rather than what they had categorized you out to be. Whatever he discovered that night I didn’t know, but something new had taken shape in his mind and replaced what had been there before. I understood after that some looks existed as witness, and the rest as nothing at all. 

He’d done this so much over the years that I let out a sigh of relief, to at last understand him again, if only in the smallest way. Now instead of walking away between us, something tightened. I gestured toward the sitting room to divert us, suddenly overwhelmed at the idea he’d say what he saw, what he thought, but Lucien too had extended his hand.

Our glasses hit. The lip of them clinked together while my knuckles roughly scraped along his. I knew where we’d collided, where one move ended and mine began from the short warmth I got in our touch. I might not have known what had happened were it not for that small difference between us. 

Despite our collective efforts to right our drinks, they fumbled in our fingers. Two heaps of wine lay between us, splattered on the ground. Lucien was already walking down the hall toward the kitchen before I could speak, apologizing repeatedly. His empty glass abandoned on the table. 

“It's nothing,” I said following behind him. 

Behind us, Cassian, Morr, and Azriel entered with precise timing. Someone let out a low whistle and Morr yelled for no one in particular asking what had happened. They were gone though, in another room and it might as well have been another life. Lucien asked where the rags were and I existed for a single moment in his question and his alone. It was an ordinary accident, to do what we did, but it was rare too that the graces of immortality failed twice. I wanted all my attention on the mundanity of him and me cleaning. I found I could not actually pull my focus away. Where he had been leading, he waited and turned back before I replaced him. We pulled two clean rags from their place, and made down the hall, my shoulder fell with each step into the soft fabric at his arm.

“Sorry,” Lucien said, rolling up his sleeves and looking toward the sitting room. I could feel the foreign embarrassment in my chest, “sorry.”

“I do it all the time.”

I knelt and began to sop up the spill. Despite my attention, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him directly, to see him in the way one is when they’re at home, undone. I’d want it too much I knew, I’d try for a hundred more messes just to see him roll his sleeves up. I couldn’t let myself hunger anymore. I already wanted that which came with notes of despairity. Instead, as I wiped in circles on the floor I let his body periodically move into my field of vision as he cleaned the other half. The shirt tucked in on itself, exposed his forearm. You didn’t get to do this anywhere else, not really, you didn’t get to be at home. I should know this arm, this person it was attached to, I’d seen it plenty before but all the while his embarrassment was foreign, and so too his movements were unpredictable and routine. 

“I should have known to avoid the area, you talk with your hands,” he said once the floor was clear and we were back on our feet. He was smiling ever so slightly when he said it, fixing his shirt back into proper place. I couldn’t bring myself to mirror the move, to right what the minor chaos had undone. 

“It’s funny,” I said instead while his body slipped back into itself. “I used to be able to tell what you were thinking. I thought the bond, exposing it, would make everything easier, but I think I know less than I did before. I can never figure out what you mean, never know how anything will end.”

I finally allowed myself to look at him truly as the cuff of his sleeve at last dropped to cover his wrist. I felt him, his staring at me with the slightest wrinkle in his brow and also the reason for that single imperfection being there. Again, unexpected, sorrow deep-rooted but new climbed beneath my skin like a vine. He opened his mouth and I hoped it would tear the growing thing but we were interrupted again.

“Shall we?” Cassian said appearing from nothing. It was no struggle to look away, I wasn’t brave enough to face the consequences of myself. I wanted the sadness to end there in that moment, I wanted not to know that look of small unintentional demolition. 

“You’re flying with Cassian. Unfortunately Lucien is with me” Rhys said avoiding the male’s eyes. 

“Flying?” Lucien asked.

I tapped my shoulder, letting my mask fall into place on the amusement of his impending discomfort, “half Illyrian.”

“I’d take you if I could,” Morr said. “But you can’t winnow in. You could take the stairs but I suspect Amren will be waiting and she’s better with a group.” 

Lucien seemed barely to follow the thread on new information, stuck on the fact we’d be flying and that Rhys apparently was taking him. That even a High Lord couldn’t winnow himself into a place in his own court must have been strange when Beron had wielded absolute power however he could.

Standing in the streets of Velaris and hearing the current of the Sydra had the same effect as sitting in the warm bath water. There was a returning power within me. I was stronger, could feel that good humor circling around my mind as it settled in waiting to be used again. I walked more surely, following behind Cassian who looked out at the water. Just hearing it, the sounds of the city and its people enjoying their evening or the river pressing onward in its pursuit was of some comfort. I knew the world wasn’t waiting for my return and I liked it that way, that these things could be counted on regardless of the universe we found outside the door. 

The warrior turned, his frame blocked out the lights across the river. I’m sure on a battlefield, in the village, such a display might startle those who knew him only barely. He’d never intimidated me. As if he knew I’d been thinking this, he leaned down so we were eye level. 

“I won’t be easy on you.”

“You’re all talk.” 

He smiled conspiratorially. From behind I knew Rhys was watching, listening. The new sense of strength made me eager, I slid into his mind, testing for any pain, and found only a slight cramping. It was enough that I managed at least to say, it’s been a while since we’ve given them a real show. 

Cassian smiled, I’ve been thinking precisely the same. 

Before he could pull me into his arms I looked back at Lucien who was watching uneasily. 

“You’ve delivered me to the Illyrians just as you promised.”

In quick procession, I was pulled into Cassian’s arms, who held me with all the care in the world. I latched onto him before looking toward our court. Rhys began to move toward us, hand outstretched in objection.   

“Don’t—“ 

But we were airborne before the command could be heard enough to qualify as disobedience. The wind pushed through my hair and I laughed, really laughed. Now I remembered how. The lights of the houses fell like stars behind us. I twisted with little resistance, he was fast, we were already far too high. The Sydra appeared like a murky ink spill down a map. 

“Ready?” Cassian yelled over the wind. 

I held tighter in confirmation and just like that we were plummeting back toward the cobbled world. Cassian let out a loud cry, as if announcing us and our amusement. I echoed with my own. The joy seemed to pierce the night in half, making light with it. From the ground, our court managed to make themselves heard like our happiness was contagious even at a distance. With the water closing in we pulled up just in time for me to dangle one hand along the surface and skim the river with my finger. I could just tell how cold it was, not touching it enough to withdraw, but was in its proximity. We lifted again and they watched us loop, climb, fall, and twist.

 It was only when we got close enough Rhys yelled, “Get to the house of wind before I sic Amren on you.” A very real warning, and Cassian knew as much. He danced past the court once more before climbing up the altitude and slowing his pace. 

“They can’t handle that we’re more fun than them.”

“We have a shared aptitude for chaos,” Cassian agreed.

Buildings passed beneath us and a sense of peace swathed in. I surrendered myself to it. I was never sure how long those moments would last. I closed my eyes, and imagined Lucien now on his way to the house of wind, standing on the balcony in the Autumn air. Unlike him, his being here required his introduction to my real life, the true one which was hidden for many years. His home, the intimacy of his day-to-day life remained back in a court with which I would likely never again return to. 

And he was here, making his way to the house we’d had all those dinners in, seeing the streets of a city that reverberated with decades of my joy. I bet you could still hear it there, eroding the stones. I was made here. That itself was an intimacy and he was not so foolish as to miss it. I was exposed by default. The bond between him and I was a tether, but it wouldn’t surprise me if on his end it felt like water, if it felt like the Sydra.

“Thank you, for what you did the other night,” Cassian said. He, more than anyone, managed to find the words to say what had not been said. He had suddenly that look of contemplation that made him more serious than he normally was. It always followed a sense of care or duty on his part. Whatever his reason, his need to speak had yet to reveal itself. “Rhys told me what you said, about the new world. I wasn’t sure how I would feel about him, but I’m glad you forced our hand a bit. I don’t think any of that was easy.”

He didn’t have to elaborate, or say who he meant. I knew now. “Not as hard as you think. Not at least when you know the people you’re talking to.”

“That night was a disaster waiting to happen,” he shook his head. “You were being brave whether or not you will say and I wanted you to know. Plus I’m not averse to admitting when I’m wrong. Your mate is already proving to be very entertaining.” 

The small discomfort of those rare moments of total sincerity slipped away and we both let it. I was grateful for all of it even when at times the vulnerability made me itch beneath my skin. I had no reply but luckily he dropped the subject, adding only one last thought. 

“I know Rhys and Morr have cornered you but if you ever want to talk about what happened.”

“There are no words. Not yet anyway.”

Whatever qualms I had with my court, their allegiance to Rhys vs. their friendship with me, there was something irreplaceable in the world we shared between each other. No two were identical, and they arrived when I needed them. Cassian had a rare ability, I think given where he came from, to listen to someone talk without imposing his own worldview on the subject. In the right moods, he was always there without judgment, open to what I thought. To him, I was an equal, and he took me and my ideas very seriously. I would always love him for that. 

The balcony to the house of wind came into view. I could see the court there waiting. We apparently took the scenic route. I turned to him and smiled, “Rhys is gonna eat us alive.” 

As soon as we were in earshot I could hear the beginning of his reprimand. We landed softly and Cassian placed me in front of the frustrated High Lord. 

“What if you’d split your stitches? That’s dangerous even when you’re not injured.”

I passed by him and patted his shoulder. “Noted.”

I could hear his teeth grinding. “Keep it up and Madja will be removing those stitches at a 6 am training session.” 

I sneered if only to make him feel the threat was legitimate, but I doubted his making good on those comments. I walked straight to Lucien whom Morr had taken into conversation. 

“Unlike your brother, we found the show very entertaining.”

“Cassian and I should consider alternative employment, a traveling band maybe,” I said looking over my shoulder toward the male who looked for all the world like his normal self again. His smile was easy, his eyes bright. 

A hand clamped down on my other side, however, and Azriel’s voice drew everyone’s attention.“You’d need to be employed for there to be an alternative.”

I let them have it, their laugh, if only because Lucien laughed too. It was without malice and I could handle the same tired jokes for that sake. 

Any comment I had ready slipped away from importance but I said, only to keep up appearances, “I like you better gone.”

The others took their joy indoors. Flying had actually hurt my side and I let them go ahead to avoid Rhys catching me limping. I wouldn’t be fast enough to evade one of his lectures. I found the railing of the balcony and looked out over the city as their voices faded, tucked beneath a gust of wind then gone altogether. 

“Is it like this all the time where you’re from?”

I knew he was there. He’d gotten in the habit of waiting for me now twice. Whenever the Cauldron decided to pull that thread between two hearts, from that point on, I suspect, I began to know the difference from the air alone of what rooms he was and wasn’t in. 

The windows below dimmed and grew in brightness. It was the city’s pulse, it told me this place was living. I was always acutely aware of the lights, what it meant that another person was there in those houses, those rooms. At times it overwhelmed me, that within a few hundred windows lived people who, like me, had their own worries, duties, their own hearts. They were at the mercy of the same Cauldron, they wanted things and didn’t get them, and tried to understand that which could never be understood. 

Lucien pressed his hands into the cool stone railing and watched just as I watched. 

“Sometimes,” he said. I wanted to go into his memories. I could see how his mind went further than I could see or know. “The best time of year is really at the end of summer or just before. I like to sleep with the windows open then, wake to the cold.”

“Do you?”

He nodded, “I like the cold.”

“It's too bad this isn’t Winter Court.”

He huffed a laugh, “not that kind and not too much. By midday, the wind might be cool but the sunlight is warm, that's really it. I like a cold I can chase away.”

A breeze came up over the edge and I folded into myself, trying to preserve what little heat was left from flying with Cassian. Lucien turned and I followed. Any longer alone and I wasn’t sure we’d manage to make it out of dinner without being at the end of every joke.

“Do you have wings?”

I shook my head. “No. I spent plenty of time in the air though.”

“I could’ve guessed.” 

He smiled at me then. The kind of smile you give someone when you’ve first met them and it's selfish really, but all you want is for them to find you funny or charming, or anything good. We were in that place, the other place that felt like another world. We’d found our way back to something and I wanted to keep it very carefully in my hands, but I wasn’t sure of its dimensions. I was only sure I would crush it.

We passed into the house and it warmed me to my bones. I waited for the threshold to bring with it the real world waiting, but the one we’d found remained firmly in place. I couldn’t explain it, how I knew, I just understood it the way I had used to understand him. I knew the rules without having to be told, that what happened here happened only here. So I could be brave.

“You haven’t come to see me. I thought you would, after we spoke.”

He stopped at the top of the stairs and waited but didn’t put his arm out. “I told you, I’m at your disposal.”

“You told that to Rhys.”

“I was talking to you.”

I wiped my palms again, then grabbed for the railing. We moved slowly for the pain but Lucien didn’t act as if we were doing anything out of the ordinary. You’d have thought he lived with leisure, that we’d always taken our time with each other. 

“Is it not enough for you then, to know I’ve been waiting?” 

“You haven’t asked for me.”

A cool draft reached my back, brushing around my ankle. I shivered, and within the same instant my ankle gave way and I stumbled on it down the next stair. Lucien was already there, arms open like he knew it was going to happen. We said nothing, not as I waited a moment in the warmth that seeped through his clothes, or when we began walking again, his arm a ghost around my waist for support. 

“It's not so simple.”

“What’s it like then?” 

We reached a small landing. I could hear the smattering of laughter spilling out from the dining room down the hall. Over his shoulder I spied the ornate walls, the decoration of the house. It was reminiscent, in the slightest of ways, of the Autumn house. Something over the top, something old about it. Though it was darker than night court there. Colder too. Did he have something like Velaris? Some place he could be himself?

“You don’t feel it?” I said, the way we went in and out of these places where we could and couldn’t be as we’d been. One room we’re on each other just as we always used to be and then we take the stairs and suddenly an arm is tucked beneath you in favor, from someone who’d sooner laughed if you’d admitted you were in pain. 

“Feel what?”

The universe began to recede on that point and I no longer had the courage. I thought we came here together but it wasn’t true, I was alone. Lucien stepped with me. We moved in silence. I know he felt my disappointment straining near his heart and pushing into it. I knew when he’d been overtaken by it, my own feelings grew twofold. 

At the bottom of the stairs, I forced down the feeling, and did the only thing I could think to recover the easiness and joy of the night. 

“Watch out for Amren, she bites,” I joked.

Lucien gave nothing away, his lips didn’t pull in any direction and his forehead was creaseless. His disappointment remained. When he set his eyes on me there was such an intensity I knew he wouldn’t let me get away with any of it. He never did. 

“I’ve been waiting for you too.”

Everyone was huddled together, wine in hand, already at ease. I went ahead of Lucien his disappointment in me unearthing the need to act as a shield. As we got in, however, I found only softness seemed to be waiting. Laughter, warmth, food at the table, and the turn of a few heads in our direction in greeting. You’d think we’d done it all before, a thousand times, you’d think Lucien had always been here. I felt my mate’s curiosity replace the heaviness and I let that relieve me just enough to get through dinner. There would be a time to answer his question, he’d be sure to ask again, but for now, we would eat. 

 It was Morr who acknowledged us first, and I knew from her words our absence was not totally unchecked.

“Finally.” 

There she was, the not-quiet fae. Her black hair, dark as night, turned to reveal her cutting face. Amren said nothing and approached with ease, preternatural elegance that even for a Fae looked somewhat too perfect, too serene. The fierceness, to me who knew her, managed though to soften on the edges like dawn.

“With all that blood you shed, girl, you’d have been better use coming to me.”

“And when all my blood made you sick you’d curse me in death too,” I said. Lucien stilled behind me, unsure of the danger, of what Amren was. “Still holding a grudge over the wine I spilled on you last Starfall?”

“I’m truly immortal. We do not forgive.” Her eyes darted toward Lucien who didn’t show any sort of reserve now, even as she grew more serious and the air around us shifted to accommodate her. “They said they asked for the lares.” 

At that word, we all went just as still as Amren. It was a pristine instant, broken only by the nod of my head in confirmation. Lucien, to his credit, took a step toward me, his presence unflinching, his protection instinctual. It didn’t matter that Amren had that aura to her, the kind that upon first meeting could unsettle you because there was something about her that you couldn’t place.

She turned her attention toward the male and looked up at him, “so, it was you who managed to get her back to Velaris?”

He was his usual self, indifference bordering on cold, “in part.”

“And how was that?”

I doubt Lucien wasn’t aware of how much his answer would offer. Everyone was waiting to hear what he’d say and though I said I wanted them to be nice, this would settle a dust he’d kicked up in his arrival here. He looked more fully toward me now and his brows rose. “She’s put me through worse.” 

Of all those who gathered, the last person I suspected would offer their good opinion was Amren. The small dangerous thing before me relaxed her mouth in the most mute way. She only smiled when it was her own doing, but tonight, I saw that slight uptick. If you’d asked me which was more likely, this or the world-shattering into pieces I’d have chosen the latter. 

“Why did you never mention your mate was handsome?”

I didn’t get the chance to think on the impossibility before she was talking to me again. I recovered the emissary of parties past. The usual dryness came back with that usual flat voice like it never left. 

“Because he isn’t.”

Rhys came up and clapped Lucien on the shoulder, the most I’d ever seen him do for any male I brought around, and said, “we, more than anyone, have the greatest sympathy for you.” Then he handed him a glass of wine. Lucien took a celebratory sip. He’d passed the test and Rhys was right, he fit right in.

“Is that why Cassian wished me luck?” Lucien asked. 

Morr looked between them, “luck with what?”

“He said I’d need it with her given she’s a bit of a—“

“Well I didn’t say that exactly.” Cassian interrupted.

Lucien probably recognized the look better than anyone, the face of someone unimpressed, even as he felt the entertainment I let simmer beneath the surface of my face. “Do explain then, what precisely you said.”

Though Cassian’s mouth opened and closed not one word came out. I bet I could guess what he’d said, she’s a bit of a handful. He’d know, before I’d perfected the art of sneaking males in and out, he’d found me tip toeing out the door or hiding in the cabin several times. Took years to recover any Illyrian's trust that we would not be caught together. Everyone looked on at him waiting to see how he’d dig his way out, but no remedy came to mind. The more he stuttered the further our mouths stretched with amusement. 

“Cassian can explain over dinner,” Rhysand said, sparing him. 

As the male walked up to me all smiles, arms outstretched for reconciliation, I sent my fist into his bicep. He acted like it hurt. Cassian led me away going on about how he’d only said it as a joke and because he wanted to welcome my mate. I wasn’t really interested, I was preoccupied with my brother's attention still remaining on Lucien. I couldn’t hear what Rhys said, but I could feel it. I couldn’t pretend not to notice that fullness warming between my ribs. The pair of them were smiling, they shared some sort of camaraderie. I could see it, even at a distance, he actually liked Lucien. 

Cassian pulled out my chair and I sat, the same spot I’d sat in a thousand times. I watched my brother who had the same face, the same gesture of talking as he would with any of us, but now it was directed at someone who, a week ago, he almost killed. 

I tried not to smile or eavesdrop as I let them share something, whatever it was that could develop in so short a time. Rhys had said there was a case to be made, his sudden regard. I didn’t need to know what had changed for him, not yet anyway. In that well of anxiety I had for Lucien, I felt another part empty. 

Different or the same, that was how the world functioned now. What was different and what was the same. Maybe everything had changed at the same time in the same way and therefore I couldn’t tell the difference. I could go the rest of my life uncovering what those little things are. No, these things are never so easy. 

The chair beside me moved and I turned expecting Morr, but as I looked I saw her on the other side of the table. In her place I found Lucien. He hesitated, looking around for somewhere else to sit but all the rest of the places had been taken, with Rhys falling into the chair at the head, smirking. 

He wouldn’t know, couldn’t, that all of this was out of the ordinary. We’d sat in the same spots for years. Rhys must have known I was about to reprimand him, regardless of using magic or not, because he shielded his mind and turned away from me to speak with Amren. I rubbed at my side. At the very least, however, my cousin seemed to take pity on him. I’m sure he’d have liked to be anywhere else after our conversation in the hall. 

“Have you been yet to walk along the Sydra?” 

He shook his head, sipped from his glass. I felt a tightness, almost sickly, of the casualness he had there in that spot. His every move was reminiscent of a routine he couldn’t have. He passed dishes, poured water, and spoke with Morr like an old friend we’d not seen in too long. He didn’t acknowledge me or my watching, but he rubbed at his chest where the bond must be. I forced myself to relax, to turn and speak with Azriel on my other side. 

“The moment I’m healed I think we need to go out.” 

“Is that so?” He feigned the air of not wanting to go. He didn’t even look up as he piled vegetables on one side of his plate and passed me the warm dish. I knew he was interested though, if Cassian and I as a pair could be chaotic, Azriel and I managed to be dangerous. 

I leaned in whispering, “think of all the fun we have at dawn flying home. I could wing woman you too.”

“ I don’t recall you being very effective the last time you promised that.”

“She was a real dud and what I don’t recall is you being so skeptical of me the dozen other times you left the place arm and arm with someone.”

He smiled, “2henever you’re ready to be back in Madja’s care we’ll go. 

I don’t know when that night would come around, if it were the kind of plans you make with an air of understanding that they will likely reside for a while in your dreamland. It might end up being the topic of many diners beginning with, we should, we have to, or when are we... If it did happen, however, wherever my life was at that point I knew Azriel would demand nothing of me in explanation. It would be nice, to feel for a moment I wasn’t avoiding something. And if I felt the need to say something he might impart some passing wisdom or just listen. 

Azriel leaned in closer to me, murmuring, “don’t invite Cassian though. With him and your brother around I don’t want their lack to rub off on me.”

“You two are making plans,” Cassian said pointing his fork at us. “Am I invited?” 

“Depends,” I said.

“On?” 

“If you get Rhys to come or not.” 

Upon hearing his name, he halted his conversation with Amren and looked our way, brow lifted as indication that he was prepared to hear our offer. Cassian cleared his throat with a sense of formality, “we’re in need of a proper night out.” 

“Fall is almost in full swing,” Morr added joining the cause. “We’ve barely caused a ruckus.”

“Barely is pretty generous,” Azriel said.

I knocked him with my foot and he laughed under his breath. Rhysand’s eyes scanned the room. Somewhere, you’d think, a reason not to do it was waiting and I was sure he’d find it. Our night out all together would remain a whimsical ideal. We’d bother him for several months, over too many dinners, a hundred courses, just to hear him finally say yes when none of us were around to partake in it. 

“Any thoughts Amren?”

“I certainly have energy to expel.” She said but this was always true. “Whether we go or not it shall come out.”

“Easy there. You scare more males than Y/N does,” Cassian said.

She faced off with the warrior without a blink. “With good reason.”

Rhys gave no hint as to what he would rule which usually meant no. I rolled my eyes and slumped back in my chair. He had screwed his face into such neutrality I was sure he would say we had too much work to do, that dealing with Beron was taking up all his time. 

“And you?” 

Lucien seemed just as caught out by the consideration, sitting upright having not anticipated the attention.“What about me?”

“I won’t carry dead weight. Do they have fun over in Autumn Court or are you as sad as I always believed?”

He’d never seen him as I had seen him. Hungover at breakfast, sneaking sips of wine from his cup to recover or the wickedness of his smile as he’d tower over some female and move to whisper something in her ear. Insults got wielded so easily the later the night went on. Promises to meet after hours to finish a fight were exchanged so readily. Even if he did often brood, Lucien was no stranger to the fun of other courts.

“I’ll manage,” Lucien said like he couldn’t care less, but his eyes slipped over to me and I knew Rhys had seen. After the show I’d made with Cassian and the conversation we’d had in the foyer if he thought everyone was getting together on my account, it would do us no favors.

But Rhys offered up the usual conditions of such a night, “first one to turn in has to pay the tab.” 

So, he remembered how to have fun. Rhys raised his glass in my direction and I returned the gesture. Conversations picked up, but I felt a shift in my mind. I froze. My shields has fallen. I hadn’t noticed him arrive, didn’t know what thoughts he had or hadn’t heard.

You think so poorly of me. He didn’t seem too put out by my assessment.

With good reason. 

C’mon, you used to be so much more fun!

I could say the same to you. You’re so dull these days.

Lucien spoke animatedly with Cassian. Rhys and I looked between them and without any words I knew we both were registering how dangerous the pair would be together. They’d need to meet their match eventually. My brother and I could be that. We were likely the most wretched children in all of Prythian and we were, usually, a united force. For all his worth, all his poking his nose in and needing to be High Lord, he was just as often my willing accomplice. 

We’ll have to give your mate a proper welcome.

From across the table, Rhys ate as if we weren’t plotting revenge. I smiled, and I think Cassian too should pay the price for his comments tonight. 

I could not agree more. 

It will be a night to remember I’m sure. 

I hope it is. I can’t stand to imagine you forgetting that every so often I like to return to the job of being your very mischievous older brother.

With that, I was alone in my thoughts. Rhys was right though, it was good to remember I could count on him. I’d spent how long dealing with their nosiness, I could let myself be both annoyed and endeared that they cared enough, that for some reason they saw Lucien fit enough despite all those years, to try and welcome.

I waited for the conversation to drift my way, watching the same pairs break off and reform but nothing, not even a side comment or reference was pointed in my direction. In fact, after a while, it occurred to me that no one was even looking toward this part of the table. Morr was fixed on Cassian, Rhys too, kept his careful attention on Amren, and I saw only the back of Azriel’s head. It might have meant nothing, but the more I noticed, the more I thought, the less certain I was of each coincidence. 

I clenched my jaw and looked toward my brother who, just as I met his face, reengaged with Amren. Not a shield, but just as good. He was giving me no choice. He’d revealed his plans, he had no reason to be coy, and he wanted us to work our business out. This was apparently where he best thought to do it. 

I kept my head down and ate. I would’ve been more annoyed had I felt, at my chest, the anxiety of someone who like me was searching for something to say. Lucien though did no such thing. He was just as satisfied as I was to keep to himself. They didn’t get it, the sureness we shared at one time, or how it felt now sitting tying us together. And the funny thing is, I might have had so much to say, might have pulled him in on whatever stories they were telling across the table and tried to get what we had back, the understanding I used to have. The forced circumstances only managed to obliterate what had been in my head besides the last real thing we’d said to each other.

I’ve been waiting for you too.

I’d made it clear, I know I had, that I wanted him around. He still waited. All that power we’d given one another to use and I don’t know if we were using it at all. A few passing comments, veiled acknowledgments that we were feeling the other nearly all the time. We were pretending to use that vulnerability under the guise of jokes we’d have made before all of this, but really we were doing nothing. We’ll figure things out just as we always have. But we hadn’t and we had to soon, Rhys was right.

“Madja said,” my brother began when his attempts to get us to talk proved fruitless. “That you should get out and walk for an hour each day starting tomorrow.”

I looked at him, a brow raised. He didn’t know that he didn’t have to do this anymore. I had already decided to change, regardless of the universe we found ourselves in after dinner. I could have my fun too, then, because even if he was right I’d already won. 

 “Did she? I don’t remember her saying so,” I said. “She told me privately.”

He was shameless. If Lucien didn’t notice our exile from other conversations he’d at least see this. As I expected, Rhys turned to my mate who’d stopped eating when the healer had been mentioned. 

“Lucien, you wouldn’t mind going with her would you?”

The only real noise was the creak of Lucien’s chair as he shifted back. Everyone was listening. No one offered themselves in Lucien’s place or volunteered shifts as they had when I was bedridden. I knew they wouldn’t and part of me still thought someone would come to my aid, would know somehow that I got it now.

“No I don’t mind,” he said.

“Then it’s settled!” Cassian said clapping his hands together, “maybe if she’s up to it she can tell you about the winter she spent at the cabin.”

“I think I will,” I smiled. “After I tell them about the building you smashed to rubble in Summer Court.” 

I took a sip of my wine and watched over the rim, the faces dropping around the table. Any noise that had been lingering from before vanished and an even more perfected quiet was left in the wake of my revelation. Of all the faces, Amren in particular seemed the least amused. 

“Excuse me?” Rhys said.

“Hm?” I deflected the storytelling to the male himself.

Cassian had to have been waiting for this since it happened. He continued to cut at his food, taking a bite before he sat back in his chair. The words seemed to formulate in front of him like the story itself was so complex he had to seek out the perfect way to tell it. 

He swallowed first, “It wasn’t even an important building.”

Azriel allowed himself a breathy laugh and nodded to me in approval. If ever there were a time to share it now was it.

“Why hasn’t Tarquin said anything to me?” Rhys asked.

“Y/N asked him not to.”

A betrayal for a betrayal. All eyes turned back to me. For someone who had just said he could be mischievous, Rhys found little amusement in the story and even less appreciation that I handled the situation entirely. A reprimand swished in his mouth like the first taste of wine you have before ordering the bottle. 

“You make it seem as though I asked him not to tattle on you. I stayed one extra day and we had dinner and I apologized and smoothed it over.” I said before he could yell. 

“And?”

“Cassian is, unfortunately, not allowed back to Adriata.”

“Well I am I just have to pay them back for the building, but they wanted a ridiculous price.” 

My brother seemed to deflate, “how much?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Accepting this at face value, he sighed. “Any other confessions I should consider?”

“Of what nature? I know quite a few secrets I’ve been dying to tell.” Amren asked having found the humor in it all just the same as the rest of us. Her eyes slid toward Azriel and he looked away, but the interest immediately stuck with us all. 

“Do I want to know?” Rhys said and I could tell he did. Amren wouldn’t keep anything truly bad to herself too long. 

“Azriel has been known to enjoy himself at Summer Court as well.”

“Amren,” Azriel said in warning. “I know just as much about you from our trip as you know about me.”

She grew serious and crossed her arms. “See if I care boy.” Though it was obvious she did. She sipped her wine and revealed nothing. 

To my surprise, however, a familiar taunting voice struck the room from beside me. “That wouldn’t happen to have been the trip you got locked out of Cressida’s room, nude, would it Azriel?”

In all my time of knowing Lucien, he had surprised me, both with his wretchedness and his behavior in other courts. One thing that I knew as well as I knew myself, however, was he was a good emissary. He could talk himself into any place he went, and so it should have been no surprise that he was just as amiable, but I felt so anyway. It was obvious now, between what I’d said to Rhys and then this, he fit in. Not just when the court welcomed him, but long before he’d ever known of this place to begin with.

Cassian for all the world looked like he had been told the greatest news of his life. He pressed his hands into his face and laughed tipping his head back into the air with such exertion I thought he might fall backward in his chair. Azriel didn’t seem at all phased by the revelation much less that it was Lucien who’d said it.

“Yeah and if I recall when you’d found me you were arm and arm with her mother.”

Rhys had to break then. All his anger relinquished itself the fact his court was foolish, and he loved them, especially when he was reminded just how foolish they could be. 

I didn’t get the chance to laugh though, a burning struck my side. Before the next confession could be wielded, a quick sheet of darkness fell around me and pooled beneath the table. It was just longer than a blink, and in the quiet burning realization of what had happened, there was only the sound of clinking. Overhead the chandelier swung haphazardly, something had knocked it. I clutched at my side. 

Cassian smirked. “Are you jealous Y/N?”

Lucien turned to me, a dangerous pair these two would be indeed, and smirked as if waiting for my confirmation of it. He could feel it no doubt, lashing around in his ribs trying to strike. Regardless of these perfect circumstances, what existed in the bond between us was truly unspoken. 

“Why shouldn’t she be?” Morr said before I could take the heat and as soon as I heard her voice I felt my stomach in my throat. “After she saw him all those years ago she developed quite the crush.”

“You said you’d never tell!” 

Morr smiled, she knew I had no other option than to confirm what she’d said. Not only that, but she was one of the few of us who remained unscathed by this sudden honesty hour. “I said no such thing. I promised you could tell me.”

Lucien sucked in his cheeks and suppressed the laughter in the way the rest of my court did not. I’d had a crush on him for all of one night, not even. It was shortly after Rhys became High Lord, when things were feeling normal again, but he’d wanted everyone at our first engagement just in case. We’d been informed Beron’s sons would be there, but they didn’t know which. 

“Any combination will be particularly wretched, so Cassian will be with you,” Rhys said as we walked into the garden they’d gathered us into. Tarquin was hosting, and in the heat and promise of perpetual summer, everyone was full of life, mingling. They’d strung up these lights which emitted the warmest glow, like daylight or the closest thing to it I have ever seen against a night sky. I stared at them when we walked in, as Rhys gave out the orders. They looked almost romantic to me, something like love in a bottle. He’d been standing beside Tamlin, Lucien was the first person I saw when I finally looked at the place, really looked. He was laughing.

I don’t know how long I was staring, but I could feel the look on my face. Infatuation personified, Morr had said and whenever I remembered those words together I was viscerally back in that moment, watching him laugh, not caring who he was because I knew from that first look.

“Do you like him?” Morr asked pulling me aside. 

I looked over my shoulder and saw him approach someone for a dance. There was an instant desperation, a pressure sitting in me that I had to let it out somehow.

“You won’t tell?”

It was a short-lived opinion, however. All night I stood there, my first party, and no one asked me to dance. Though I couldn’t say for certain if it was reputation, Cassian did not help remedy any nerves. 

“Who are you?” Eris had said when Cassian had slipped away to get us a drink. The night was half over but for a moment I thought it could be beginning. From context clues, it wasn’t so difficult to work out who he was either, but I didn’t care, I was just glad for the attention. I didn’t let that show. Even before Lucien, it was a dry business, talking to Autumn Court males.

“We shouldn’t be speaking.”

“Why's that?”

“I’m Night Court, we’re not exactly meant to mingle.”

It made him laugh, one of the few times I managed it, and it made me feel reckless, more confident than I should have been. “I should have guessed. Rhysand’s infamous sister.”

“Please.”

“I’m serious, I’d never feed the ego of any of you for no reason.”

“What's your reason now?”

He shrugged, “I think it’ll be funny to see that Illyrian’s face when he returns and sees who you deign to talk to.”

I turned to see if Cassian was on his way back, but he was nowhere to be found. “He won’t care.”

“Why.”

“Because I already decided I would lie if he showed up.”

Eris was handsome and I knew that as he stood there before me, his own cruelty was a distant future. I wouldn’t see him for 25 years after that night and even then it was sparse. It was Lucien after that, always Lucien. To the point that the only way I got Eris to laugh after was by doing so at his brother’s expense. 

“I’ll have to do something undeniable then.”

“Like?’

“Ask you to dance.”

I was silent. It wasn’t that I thought he was kidding, I knew he wasn’t. I didn’t know if I would say yes and if I didn’t say yes I wasn’t sure what I’d say instead. Against the warmth of the lights, he hadn’t seemed so terrible as they’d made him out to be. So I thought, apparently for too long, because someone else had gathered their opinion and was ready to share it. 

“You wouldn’t.” From behind Eris, Lucien was standing within earshot. Even for all I liked him that night, the way I had been drawn to him, I hadn’t noticed his arrival. The moment Eris looked back at me, however, I felt the diminishing sureness of my place in the world. I wanted Cassian to come back and I didn’t know when he would. “The only thing you have going for you besides your future as a High Lord is you never sully yourself, not even with her.”

His reaction was visceral, even I felt it. I was disgusting to him. Enough that just acknowledging me repulsed him. Though it was not the last insult he’d ever say to me, it was the only compliment I ever heard him make to his brother. 

Eris laughed, it was false, malicious now, and turned toward his brother. “Who would have thought, you of all people.”

The two walked off. I slipped behind a shrub and wiped at my eyes. No one else spoke to me. It was the only birthday I ever cried.

Lucien must have remembered just as much as I did of that night, because where he’d felt a kind of fondness it quickly dissolved into a wave of shame. I didn’t like to think about it, though his opinion seemed almost violent he’d never had such a reaction to me again. Late on I said it was our duty. When we met again we observed a century-long tradition of hating one another, but it was never so volatile as that first time. 

“I knew it,” Rhys said with such vindication it pulled us from the memory. I’d worked years and years, dodging their remarks with sincerity. They knew, they said, that secretly beneath all that hate and annoyance was something secretly fond. Morr would join in but I’d considered her more of an ally to me all this time. But what a coincidence, that she chose to reveal it only once Lucien had sat down at our table. 

“What did she say? Dear diary,” Cassian began writing on a phantom paper. “I met the most beautiful male tonight.”

“The little 100-year-old fae with a crush on a big bad male,” Rhys said.

My brother seemed too content having, apparently, nothing to share of his own embarrassment in all these years. He harbored all the arrogance in the world, believing he was invincible. How quickly he forgot of his sister who knew him just as well as he knew her. I could tell he’d realized just what I had ready to share. The very thing that this court had spent a century and a half trying to confirm.

“And what can be said for the High Lord who was caught fucking our tutor in the hall closet by our mother.”

More than the whole room I think really the world paused, before, at long last, everyone let out a roar of laughter. If there were more secrets to be shared no one said them.

***

After dinner we all stood around for a long time, finishing our wine and talking. All tensions faded with our individual triumphs and satisfactions and peace descended like mist over the hills. Every so often the thing in my chest with which Lucien was connected buzzed with emotions that the male did well of hiding. Flickers of undiagnosed sadness, pleasure, and even for some reason moments of endearment carved their way into my chest like I was receiving a second heart. I wasn’t sure what was strong enough to make its way to him, if he felt always my emotions as the echo of his own. 

That sound of the room took on that quality it does when you realize someone is close to announcing they’re going home. The night had worn itself down. I went to find Lucien, to pull him aside, but sometime between two big feelings, he’d gotten away. He wasn’t there. I scanned as unsuspecting as possible the areas I could see. He was nowhere, not in the hallway or down the stairs. I listened, tuning everyone out, but even then he remained lost. 

“Go,” Rhys said. 

I looked at my glass, half of it left and the thought of drinking it turned my stomach.“Are you scheming?” 

“Not this time.” He smiled holding his hand out for the cup to finish it. I downed the wine myself and let its bitter dry flavor burn. 

I wandered the hall first, the library downstairs could draw him in just as the one at home. How often he would peruse Helion’s. Or the other rooms he’d yet to see. I leaned against the railing, the banister cold compared to his body on mine as he helped me down the stairs. It was only when I stopped thinking that I understood. 

I strained at the process of taking each small step upward. It didn’t occur to me that I would need the help. After flying and the accidental use of magic each step took great effort. The bond tipped him off. After the first half of the stairs, he found me instead. He moved with an urgency he hadn’t had earlier, down to meet me with his arm outstretched. 

It had become chillier outside, cooler than when we’d arrived. Tonight, when all of us went to sleep, would he open that window and think of home? The blankets be up to his chin and the tip of his nose colder than all the rest, from an autumn tinted by winter. We’d just made it to the balcony, the fabric of my clothes snagging on the stone, when Lucien finally spoke. 

“There was a reason I was rarely at home,” he said, as if the tether between us relayed words just as well as feelings. I waited for his grief, his pain, to find its way to my chest, the memories of home, but they did not come. He had never wanted to stay, or else had never imagined it. Yet there was fondness just the same. “You though, this is where you should be.”

Doubt. It struck before I could confess as much myself. His face softened and I knew he felt what I’d revealed. It would have been fine if we’d been in the other place, the one that we didn’t mention. The rules of secrecy felt more secure. I knew he wouldn’t tell, I think I just wanted the easy thing. 

“You understand, yes?” 

“I do.”

The eventual fallacy of the place that made you, that you grow older, that other places make you over again and you can’t go back. I didn’t want to leave the way he wanted to leave, but there was a terrifying thought that had settled long before the night Lucien came. I belonged here, but I could belong somewhere else too. I was not like them even if we’d been made of the same thing. 

It was a faraway thought and I didn’t give it much power over me. I took comfort in the fact that no one could make me go, not anymore. Not Beron or marriage to some male across the continent. That power resided with me entirely. 

“I don’t know why it never occurred to me how well you’d do here.”

“Am I doing well?”

“You don’t think so?”

He was closer than when we’d first arrived tonight, his shoulder rubbing mine when he shrugged. He didn’t see it, not as I did, what was happening. Tonight was probably the first time he realized that they were accepting him. 

“They like you,” I said staring at my shoes. Lucien moved just a fraction closer, sidestepping, and I saw. I was waiting for that seam in the world to slip over us so I could say the last part, but this was the same universe, the same Lucien. “I like you here.”

He leaned against the railing, as I’d seen him do a hundred times before, though it was the first time he’d ever so casually done so with me. He looked just as cool as he always seemed. When I let out my breath, it was shaky. He knew it, he heard it. Yet even in that small turn, the opening of his body to my own I felt braver. If I wanted to I could close the distance so easily. No one was here to see it, no one was coming to interrupt.

“I’m sorry I haven’t asked for you.”

“Y/N—” he began but I stopped him. 

“It's rare, for me to apologize to you, so just take it.”

A deep breathy laugh rose from far in his chest. I was met with the warmth of his face as he smiled at me in a way he never had before. It wasn’t even familiar at a distance, from catching him slyly approaching females from across a room. I held my head in my palm, leaning toward him like we were in some corner of a party and no one else mattered. Not that anyone else did anyway, even if they were here. The whole of Velaris was at our fingertips, my family downstairs and likely soon approaching, and none of it mattered in the slightest.

“What did you mean when you said it didn’t have to be the same forever?”

“You asked me if things would be back to normal in the morning. I didn’t really have a vision of the future, I just knew I didn’t want to go back.”

“But we did.”

He nodded, “Yes. When we were together briefly it felt like real life had taken over. I tried to figure out a way to get back to the ease we’d found when you brought me here, but it wasn’t so easy. And—”

So he had known, he felt it, that place we’d go to. His acknowledgment of it forced its return. The universe manifested around us like a reward for the hard thing we’d already done by being brave without its certainties. 

“And?”

Laughter broke open the atmosphere from far below. Did all of Velaris seek out their friends and family on nights like tonight? A connection, running through the very foundation of this city, leaving us all tethered to each other by love. 

“I didn’t want to lose everything entirely either.”

That dynamic I’d found so entertaining all these years, if we woke the following morning and had reinvented our existence beside one another entirely I’m sure I’d miss it too. I didn’t even consider it, that it was something we could lose.

“I don’t know if it's in our nature to be at peace and agreeable too long with each other.”

“I’ve worked as much out.”

“What gave it away?”

“The garden.”

A breeze folded up over the city and pushed my hair over my shoulders. I shivered at its delivery. Lucien noticed with an instinct that I didn’t want to call primal. It would diminish the intention of it, that he had done so with good manners and care. He pulled me against his body and turned us away so that he blocked most of the wind.

“Do you know now, how you’d want things to be different?” I asked. 

“Mostly.”

“You’ll visit me then?”

“Yes.”

“And?” I said. We were guessing, terrified and guessing all of the time. He’d become better at knowing what I meant and I was beginning to understand him again in small ways, but we were both equally unsure. No doubt we were equally afraid.

“You’ll laugh.” His palm met my cheek. His large hand spread across my face leaving nothing but warmth. The fire in him, in his blood, made sure to chase away the cold.

“I won’t. I promise,” I said, meeting his softness with my own. “Not when you managed to spare me after you learned of my crush.”

I expected to find softness on his features but instead, he looked more stern, stoic as usual. He almost even looked confused, but he relaxed quickly and he brushed the hair from my face. I had no entry to his mind, no free reign, to know what occupied his thoughts so fully. Even if I did, however, I wouldn’t use it. So instead I waited to see if he would reveal it on his own. 

“Why should I, when I only just admitted I’d always found you beautiful.”

My heart pressed against my ribcage like Lucien had pulled at it. Always. Not now, or 50 years ago, always always always. Even when he’d said what he’d said to Eris about me, he thought it then and he thought it now. He wasn’t being kind to me because I was pretty again, because I’d always been pretty. 

“I never thought…” I began, but the words ceased to exist. I leaned my forehead into his chest like the warmth would revive my mind as the water had that afternoon to my body. 

“Because I wouldn’t let you.”

 For the first time in all my life, I felt afraid of what would happen if I looked at him the way he had at me. I wanted to hide exactly nothing, not the blush at my cheeks or the question in my brow. And it scared me, the intensity with which I wanted to see him and be seen in return because I knew that we would. It would be mutual now, in a way that had once only belonged to him. There was no undoing it if I lifted my head. So I did. 

“How much time have we wasted?” I asked, unsure of what I really meant by it entirely. Lucien thought on it, refusing to answer right away.

“Just enough I should think.”

“I don’t wish to rush.”

“With 50 years behind us…” Lucien said, his eyes looking at my lips. I let mine look at his for the first time in many years. That first night I’d seen him I noticed them. He didn’t even glance, didn’t even look in my direction or notice me until he found me with Eris. I’d felt so young, so childish, wanting to be under his gaze. Now I was no different, or entirely different. I wanted to know what they felt like, if they too were warm. 

“And what about real life?” I asked.

“What about it?”

“When things return to normal, as they will, you'll feel differently.”

“And?”

“And I will be left to want what I have never wanted before.”

Lucien smiled, there was a flicker of amusement but his brows mirrored the confusion mine had only just displayed. I knew that our real life was too close, always waiting to take us back to the places where we existed, where these things shared did not reign or govern anything.

“How do you mean?” He said.

“Every night since you came to my room I’ve held my own hands to fall asleep.”

If it weren’t for the bond I’d have felt I’d said something wrong, something that made him sad or hurt his feelings by the way his face suddenly held no emotion at all. Instead, though he let go of me, pulled away, and braced himself against the railing looking out at the city. I’d have asked why, would have acted out, had the sound of approaching laughter not reached me first. A moment later everyone was up on the terrace with us. 

“Shall we?” Cassian said with a smile as he grabbed my shoulder. This interruption was far less welcome. I couldn’t exactly say what or how Cassian knew but he seemed to be aware of just what was being interrupted. I hoped one day to return the favor. I nodded, repeating the same routine amusement I had when Lucien had stood awkwardly with Rhys outside the townhouse before Cassian lifted me into his arms and we were gone. 

At home, just as the house quieted and I had lifted the covers to my bed I heard a soft knock at the door. I almost would have thought it was the floorboards and windows settling but I checked anyway. Opening the door, the moonlight falling in sheets behind me, I saw in its glow Lucien. He had kept the stony face he’d taken on at the house of wind, hiding what down the bond I could still feel. In the faint light I saw it now, his cheeks flushed pink. In my chest too, I felt the embers of something like attraction. I would have gone to get a sweater, asked him to wait so I might cover up, had he not spoken first. 

“Give me your hand.” 

Letting go of the door forced it open more and I knew now he saw me even more clearly, but I tried not to care. I tried to remind myself what had already been revealed. I gave him my hand and he took it gently, like he was scared even of being too hard and was overcompensating by barely holding on at all. He flipped it over in his, exposing the palm, and raised it just enough so he could bow his head and meet my skin with his lips. I watched him linger, felt the warmth along the sensitive skin, and tried to memorize how his mouth felt so I could try, tonight, to recreate the touch in other places. 

“What was that for?” I said as he pulled away and let go.

“To give you a hunger I could satisfy.” 

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

A Lord’s Proposition

Prompts “bite me” ”if you insist” and “each of my thoughts about you are improper”

Pairing: Melkor x Fem. Reader (Elf / Finwë’s daughter with Miriel and Fëanor’s twin| second person POV)

Themes: Slowburn |  Smut (lemon-ish) | Soft

Warnings: Corruption | Oral (Male receiving) | Fingering | Kissing | First time | Marking | Penetrative Sex | Cream pie

Wordcount: 4.9K words

Summary: Melkor had kidnapped you and kept you confined to a tower while he travelled to Utumno. He has now returned, and asks for you.

Rating: 🔥🔥 Minors DNI | 18+

For rules and tag form, read here. 

To the person who requested this, I hope you like it. 

You looked out a barred window, your heart aggrieved by the sight that befell your eyes.

There was no starlight here. None could be found in Angband. The sky was murky black from the thick smog of smoke from the keep’s many furnaces. The air was damp and cold and foul. The scent of ash and smoke and worse crept in through the windows and clung to your garments. Some days, the smell was so strong that it made your eyes water and bile rise at the back of your throat. You had no choice but to bear it all in silence. You were a prisoner, utterly dependent on the favor of the one who held you captive. 

Still, you supposed, it was a better fate than most. You turned your attention from the sky and peered into the gloomy courtyard. Thralls scurried to and fro like mice desperately trying to escape the talons of an eagle. They were like wraiths, mere shadows of the fair and glorious beings they once were. That was how your captor liked to see them: fearful, half-starved, and brought down to the lowest point of their existence.  

Not just them, you realized with great dread. I am one of them. The daughter of a race he loathes with a murderous passion, so the poets and singers say. How long will it be before I am made to sip from the cup that was forced onto them?

Your skin prickled out of fear. You closed the shutters of your window and sharply turned away as soon as a wretched scream carried through the courtyard. You did not want to dwell on that sound or from whom it came. There was no need to feed your nightmares with fresh fodder. 

You studied your chambers like you always did, ever since your capture. The walls and floors were bare black stone, the pelts were thick, and the rushes were new. Besides the old hearth, there was a basket filled with blocks of peat instead of wood for a fire. The bed was small but comfortable. You reflected on the remnants of your last meal. The bread and roasted meat had been fresh, the water was clean and cool.

Mine may be a wretched lot, but it is still better than theirs, you reminded yourself. Much better than theirs. 

Someone knocked on the door. It was loud and insistent. You made haste to answer it, your shoes clicking over the floor. You expected to find a thrall and came face-to-face with her instead.

Thuringwethil, they called her. Woman of the secret shadow. Herald for the Dark Lord. The first vampire. Her eyes gleamed like new rubies. Her wings dragged behind her whenever she walked. A gown was draped over one arm.

"My lady." You quickly dipped to your knees even as the words stumbled out of your mouth. Anything to not anger her. 

A gale of laughter greeted you. It was shrill and painful to the ears, like nails over brittle glass. You had to stop yourself from physically wincing.

"You certainly have good manners, little elf," Thuringwethil replied, and looked over you critically. "That will serve you well with him, I think."

"With him, my lady?" You sputtered in disbelief. "Which him?"

Your mind was a roil. There was more than one him here in Angband, and each one was as mercurial as the next. Was Thuringwethil speaking of Mairon, Melkor’s most favored advisor? Or was she speaking of that Balrog high general? The one who could change from a creature of great beauty to one that inspired nothing but sheer terror? Or was it the Maia who found great joy in changing into a giant cat and tormenting everyone who crossed his path?

"Him," she said, and moved around you in an elegant flourish. Her wings trailed behind her over the floor, all black and deep crimson. You took a deep breath and sighed wistfully. The very air around her smelled like a meadow in full bloom. It did not surprise you. Thuringwethil used to be Yavanna’s Maia after all. "Lord Melkor, no less. He has returned from Utumno and wishes to dine with you."

You gave her a measured look. You were a prisoner, captured and carried off after a daring raid in the heart of Valinor itself. And now you have been invited to dine with your captor, the Lord of Angband, no less. The prospect frightened you. 

"I… I hope I will not offend Lord Melkor," you blurted out, and hoped this invitation was not a ruse to heap unspeakable agony upon you. 

"I see you truly are nothing like that heedless, foul-tempered brother of yours," Thuringwethil observed, not unkindly. "And I promise, he will not be offended by anything you do." 

She did not give you time to think or frame a reply. She went on to add, "Thralls will see to your bath now. An orc will come to fetch you once you have finished."

You shivered and nodded in fright. Thuringwethil took her leave of you, practically floating out of your chambers in a swirl of wings and lace and night-blooming roses. You walked over to your bed and ran the flat of your palm over your new dress. It was soft to the touch and dripping in gems, and finer than any gown you possessed before.

So lavish, you mused. What does he want from me?

There was another knock on your door. This time it was hesitant and timid. "Come in, please," you said, and moved away from the bed. 

Thralls walked in carrying pails of clean, warm water. Another pair brought with them a small copper tub and a towel. A thrall filled the tub with water before adding fragrant oils. Another helped you out of your robes, her eyes downcast. Her fingers fumbled with the sash; it was as if they had all turned into thumbs. You wanted to talk to her, to ask how she came to be here. All you did, in the end, was bite your tongue.

I must take care of what I say to them. It may cause more trouble for them if I do. 

The sweet-smelling water was a welcome relief from the smells of the outside world. The thralls sluiced water over your hair before gently brushing out any tangles. One of them went to work on your nails and feet. It felt strange, to have them wait on you in such a manner. It was stranger still, given the cause for such pampering. 

She said nothing I do could offend him. I am certain now that he must want something from me. What is it? 

You had seen Melkor before. He had come calling on your brother; his words like honey. You were by an upstairs window, looking down on the gardens where they stood. Fëanor had been furious with the Vala’s intrusion. He grew even more enraged when the Vala glanced up and caught you looking, his lips curling up at the corners. Their exchange grew heated. Fëanor sent Melkor away, but not before Melkor managed to steal a second glimpse of you. That was all you saw of him until after your capture, when you were presented to him like a prize, your arms and feet bound in iron, your clothes reduced to rags. He said nothing. All he did was sit on his lofty throne and look down on you, his eyes roaming over you in a way that made a flush creep up your throat.  

You never saw him after that. Melkor kept you confined to the tower you now lived in. No one was allowed to see you save for the thralls that had to tend to you and Thuringwethil. The other Maia were allowed nowhere near you. Even the orcs were allowed nowhere near you, until now. 

It is as if he does not trust the others with me.

A thrall held out their arm, to help you out of the tub. You stood still while they toweled you dry, your cheeks ablaze when they first helped you into the wisps Thuringwethil brought with her. The garments were so soft, you did not even notice them. Next came the dress, an airy confection of lace and silk that clung to your body. Then came a pair of soft slippers and finally a perfume, one that was dabbed on each of your wrists and behind your ears. The thralls wanted to style your hair, but you declined, insisting on wearing it loose.

"The master calls," insisted the orc that came to escort you to Melkor’s private chambers deep within Angband. "Come."

You followed him silently, walking through lofty corridors and vast halls, each as empty and dimly lit as the next. Your footsteps echoed all around you even as you sunk deep into your thoughts. Melkor had insisted you be brought to him alive. He had kept you in a tower, apart from the thralls and other prisoners. He had provided you with decent food and drink, even new garments. No one was allowed to harm a hair on your head. And the way he looked at you when you were presented to him, his eyes dark with hunger. The memory alone was enough to give you pause. 

You shook your head. No. It could not be. Melkor desired nothing but the complete dominion of Arda. He treasured nothing but power and causing pain. That was what the songs said. That was what your father and brother said. And yet…

And yet…

He kept me safe. Made certain my needs were seen to. Did nothing to cause me harm. Were they all wrong? 

The orc stopped by large wooden doors, each more than twice your height. "Let her in," he snapped at the guards. They obeyed and opened the doors for you. "Get in," he mumbled almost in politeness. 

You meekly stepped over the threshold and made your way into a chamber as large as the halls you had passed. There was a soft thud. That was the sound of the doors closing behind you. You were truly trapped now.  

The room you were in was nearly as silent as a tomb. And poorly lit. There were no lamps, or torches. Just a dim fire sputtering away in the hearth. 

"Come closer, little elf," a deep voice called from behind you.  

You gulped in fright but turned in the direction of that voice.

"Closer," it called. "Come closer."

One measured footstep followed another. You walked on hesitantly, not stopping until you reached a smaller chamber filled with the light of several candles. There was a large bed in one corner, and a small table at the far end. This room, too, was empty. You were confused now. Where did that voice come from?

"Does this please you?" 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard the voice behind you. You turned on your heel and found yourself looking at your captor. Melkor was studying you with a quizzical gleam in his eye. "My lord," you murmured, and gracefully dipped to your knees, remembering your courtesies. 

He laughed merrily. "Thuringwethil was right. You do have nice manners." 

You looked at him, shocked. She spoke to him about me. Why would she do that? 

Melkor smirked and looked at you approvingly before walking over to the table. He pulled out a chair and gestured for you to join him. It confused you even more. The table was devoid of food and drink. 

"The food…" you breathed out and struggled for words. Melkor was as glorious as the day you first saw him. The image of him standing there and watching you was enough to muddle your mind. "There… there is no food, my lord."

"There will be food," he replied, "for later. For now, sit."

You obeyed and made your way to the table, your skin prickling the entire time. You glanced at Melkor and found his eyes following your every move. There was something dark and primal in his eyes, something you could not quite describe. 

"I will not mince words,” he said. “The reason why I summoned you," Melkor waited till you made yourself comfortable before moving to the chair opposite yours. "Is because I have a… proposition to make."

"Proposition?" You repeated, baffled. Melkor was one of the most high. There was no need for him to ask anything of anyone when he could simply take whatever, and whomever he desired, without so much as a "by your leave."

“Yes." Melkor studied you before saying, "A proposition. I wish to make you my companion. I made this offer to your brother. I was hoping he would put a word in where your father was concerned…"

The day he called on your twin. He had asked for you. You kept asking why and Fëanor refused to explain the cause. He grew angry whenever you asked. Your father finally forbade you from broaching the topic. 

"But the fool refused," Melkor snorted in derision. "Now that I have you here with me, I would like to ask this of you myself. Will you be my companion and bind yourself to me?"

You swallowed and wrung your hands. His companion, he said. You did not even know what it would mean. What little you knew of intimate relations between elves came from the books you read while the others were away. "Your companion, my lord. What would I have to do? Read to you? Play the harp?"

Melkor laughed again, softly this time. "Your family has kept you ignorant of many things, I see. I do not wish you to merely read to me and amuse me with music, little elf. To put it in simpler terms, I want you to share my bed."

Your cheeks were aflame. To share his bed. You had read enough books to know what that meant. "To share pleasures with you…" you sputtered, "but if I go back, if the other elves find out what I allowed you to do to me, I will be ruined."

"The other elves will not find out.”

“Why not?”

“Because your brother is not coming for you," Melkor said simply. 

"He is coming for me!" you insisted. Your eyes stung with hot tears threatening to break free. Melkor was the prince of lies. That was what they all said. You refused to believe him, thinking he was lying to you even now. "Fëanor is coming for me!"

"He is not, little elf," Melkor replied gently. "Fëanor is not coming for you. His hunger to create the silmarils has consumed him."

Despair of the acutest kind settled over you like a thick fog. The creation of hallowed jewels, each containing the light of the two trees, was all your twin talked about. He would think of nothing else until such priceless treasures rested in his hands. You knew him well enough for that.  

"And your father’s thoughts have been consumed with the new family he is creating with his second wife. No one is coming for you." Melkor reached over and placed his hand on top of yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze. "Say yes, little elf. Take my hand, and every comfort imaginable will be yours. I will be yours."

You sat there, feeling alone and wretched. Your brother was not coming for you. Your father was not coming for you. Days had bled into weeks and weeks into a wholly different season, and no one had come for you. There had not even been a whiff of an elf seeking you out. Your kin had abandoned you to your fate, and the knowledge of it was too much to bear. It made you want to cry, to scream and tear out your hair, but such acts were useless. They would not set you free, and they would not make your kin search for you. You turned your attention to Melkor. He offered a life you were once accustomed to. Perhaps he was not lying. Perhaps he was telling the truth. But still, to say yes to him and take him inside of you…

"The others… your servants…" you whispered, "What will they say?"

"Nothing." Melkor smiled and spread his broad hands. "Life in Angband is different. You can be with whomever you wish, whenever you wish, and however you wish. No one will say a word in protest."

"No one?" You glanced at him, trying to get a sense of him. "Not even you?"

Melkor ground his jaw and growled. His eyes narrowed to thin slats. "You are mine, little elf. All of you belong to me."

Goosebumps rose all over your flesh when he said it. The sheer possessiveness in his tone was enough to make you forget your sense of dread and excite you to the point of actually considering his offer. 

"Before I say yes," you licked your lips nervously and confessed, "I… I must tell you I have neither the… skill nor the… experience… in such matters. What little I know has come from books."

Melkor’s lips tugged at the corners. "I thought as much. But first, you must say yes."

To say yes. To take his hand and bind yourself to him for all time. You thought of your suitors, how all of them bowed their heads and walked away without a second glance the moment Fëanor denied them. Then there was Melkor, who willingly risked war and doom to bring you here. You knew what your answer would be.

"Yes."

"Come."

He rose and took you by hand, helping you out of your chair and leading you straight to his bed. You eyed the silk sheets and the soft pillows. To just lay in that bed was temptation enough. Melkor did not give you time to think of much else. He grabbed your arms and kissed you before you could say another word. 

The books spoke of kisses that were sweet and soft, like feathers. Melkor’s kiss was none of that. It was all heat and wildness and hunger. His tongue glided over the seams of your mouth before pressing against your lips. You sighed helplessly and parted them for him. His mouth tasted like some dark spice you could not get enough of. Melkor smirked in triumph, his breath heating your flesh.

"How easily you yield, little elf!" he cried when you tugged on his tunic to pull him closer. "And how fortunate I am to have you in my grasp!" He laughed again and placed his hands over your shoulders, pushing you down onto the edge of the bed. "Tell me," he cooed softly, "What else did you read in these books?"

You looked at him, your eyes widening when he undid the buckle of his belt. "I…" You glanced at him, then at what he was doing. He was loosening the drawstrings of his breeches. "I have read about certain acts, but…" Your cheeks heated when he tugged it down just enough to free his cock. "But…"

"It was not enough?" Melkor asked and caressed your cheek. "Then I will guide you. Open that pretty mouth for me, little elf."

He waited, neither forcing nor demanding that you obey. A thumb glided over your lips, making you look at him. "Open little elf," he insisted gently, "Go on."

The sight of him all exposed and hard proved too tempting. You opened your mouth, eager and willing and curious, struggling to breathe while he sank his length. Melkor moved slowly and gently, his hands delving into your hair and keeping you steady. He groaned and shivered when you ran your tongue along his shaft and let curious hands skim over his thighs. His hand glided over to cup your cheek. You opened your eyes and found his fixed on yours; his mouth parted in a silent moan. 

"I have been thinking about you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, little elf," he confided, whimpering when your tongue brushed over his tip. "Each of my thoughts about you have been improper."

Melkor was gentle with his instructions. "Loosen your jaw, little elf." He caressed your cheek again to catch your attention. "You clench it too much."

It was easier after that. You reached up and clutched the edges of his tunic, your mind going hazy with bliss. Everything you felt, from the hands brushing over your hair to the little ridges brushing against your lips to the soft grunts you heard, was dark and sinful. You had often wondered what such acts would be like while reading books forbidden to you, but no words could describe what you were feeling now, all feverish and wanton. 

Melkor drew back and pushed you onto the sheets. You gazed at him, surprised, and more than a little disappointed. "Move further up, little elf," he chuckled, running his thumb over your swollen lips. "I want to claim you as mine."

Again, you did as he asked, even more eager this time. You moved further up the bed, trembling whenever you felt the wetness between your thighs. Melkor undid the clasps of his tunic one by one. You expected to find vast parts of him withered and deformed, as the songs said. What was slowly revealed instead was the stuff of a maiden’s dreams: a fana that was all supple muscle and devoid of flaw. His skin was the color of new steel, and his arms were large and strong. 

Not once did he use that strength to force me, you mused, flushing when the mattress sank and he crawled into bed with you, boots on and all. Melkor pushed your thighs apart with his. His hands slid under your skirts. 

"I…" You found yourself trembling with growing need when the flat of his palm glided over your leg. "I thought we must be undressed, my lord."

"Next time," Melkor promised. He hiked your skirts up to your waist and shoved his hand down your undergarments, ripping them apart with one tug. "For now, let me do this."

His fingers grazed your slick heat. The friction was delicious enough to make you see stars. Melkor trembled. He actually trembled. His touch was gentle, almost worshipful in its exploration. He propped himself on his free arm, just so he could watch you while he slipped a finger inside of you. It made your breath hitch when that finger slid deeper and deeper. 

"My lord," you moaned without even realizing it. He dipped his head and ghosted his lips over yours.

"I am here, little elf," he purred softly, brushing his hand over your hair. He dipped his head again, nibbling your earlobe and sighing when your arms circled his back. 

He had been thinking of me since he first saw me, you remembered. When was that?

"M-my lord?" Your back began to arch with each thrust of his finger. He inserted a second as carefully as the first, groaning whenever your warmth clenched around them. "W-when did you first see me?"

"When I was allowed to return to Valinor," he confessed softly against your neck. "I saw you with your father and brother near the Ring of Doom. I stayed in the shadows and watched you. Even then, I knew I had to make you mine."

The Ring of Doom. When your father was called to hear the Valar’s verdict on his appeal to remarry. That was a full century before Melkor approached your brother for you. 

A hundred years was but the blink of an eye for an elf. Lesser still for a being such as him. But still...A hundred years. He had been seeking me out over a hundred years. Your hands brushed over his hair while he nibbled at your earlobe. The thought of him marking you with his teeth was enough to make your pulse scramble. You grew a little bolder. 

“M-my lord?" You mumbled shyly. "W-would you c-consider marking me?" 

“Bite you, little elf?"

"Y-yes. B-bite me."

Melkor raised his head, his dark eyes darkening even more. You heard a low and otherworldly growl. The sound inflamed you. "If you insist," he said, leaning in and running his tongue over the hollow of your throat. "Turn your head to the side, little elf."

He peppered the soft expanse of your throat with kisses that were bruising and almost violent. Every time his teeth grazed the curve of your neck, your nails would dig into his back. "Melkor," you sighed again. "There. Right there. Oh."

"Now everyone who sees you will know you are mine." He lifted his head and admired the canvas he had made out of your body. When he drew his fingers away, it made you feel strangely empty. "Rest your legs over my hips, little elf." Melkor hovered over you, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance. "And do not tense. Can you manage this?"

He wanted to claim your maidenhead. You looked up at him, trying to decide what to do. If he did, if you said yes to this, you could never go back. The other acts you could hide in lies, but not this. Never this. No elf would stay married to you once the truth came to light. Your family would never welcome you back. Your father would not wish to ruin the prospects for any child born to his second wife, and your brother… you shivered. You did not want to even think of what Fëanor would do to you. 

Why am I fretting over what others will say, when those others have already turned their backs on me?

Melkor’s knuckles drifted over your throat. He may never ask for you again. He could send you away and carry on like nothing happened. It would would you deeply if he did. But the memories would feel so sweet. 

You made up your mind. You moved your legs over his hips, the insides of your thighs rubbing up against the supple leather of his breeches. It felt strange but wonderful. "I am ready," you whispered.

“I will be gentle," Melkor promised, trembling again. His kiss was soft and so very warm. He kissed you until you were breathless, kissed you until you moaned, and your hold around him tightened. He guided his shaft inch by slow inch into your slit, stopping whenever you whimpered to give you time to breathe. His hand glided over your thigh, your belly, his words a sweet melody in a tongue you had never heard of in your life. It put your entire body at ease. He would move again, now slowly, now gently, filling you in ways you never thought possible. He stopped again, this time after claiming your maidenhood. He looked at you with questioning eyes, as if asking for permission. 

"Yes," you assured him, sighing when he moaned and started to move. 

He was so big, and it felt uncomfortable. And he was gentle, just like he promised. Pain and discomfort slowly gave away to a pleasure that had no name. Every time he moved, every time he found a place that sent jolts of deep ecstasy licking up your spine, you clung to him, moaning his name shamelessly. Melkor’s lips crushed yours in an all-consuming kiss. At your own urging, he went a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster, growling when his hips slapped against the insides of your thighs. It was too much. And not enough. And intoxicating all at the same time. Melkor knelt up and dragged you with him. 

"Kiss me," he demanded, "and make it count."

His fingers dug into the back of your dress, his nails ripping into the fabric the moment your mouth opened over his. His tongue tasted like wine when it pressed against yours, and his hair felt like silk when it slipped around your fingers. A tension that was sweet and drugging grew in your belly. 

"So-something is ha-happening," you mewled, not knowing what it meant. "I... d-do not understand…"

You may not have known, but Melkor did. "Soon, little elf," he whispered, latching onto the curve of your neck. A mixture of kisses and nips of the teeth skimmed over your throat. "A little more. Just a little more."

That soon came faster than you could have thought. Your muscles coiled and tightened, and snapped, like your body was splintering into a million different pieces. You could not think. You could even breathe. You were lost in a sea of untold rapture. You barely felt it, Melkor’s hold on you tightening even as your nails raked over his skin. You barely heard it—a deep grunt of satisfaction when he thrust one last time, and a torrent of his spend filled you.

The world had gone still, so very still. Your thoughts were still muddled when Melkor laid you on your back. You were silent while clarity slowly crept in.  

Melkor had claimed all you willingly gave, and so much more. He made you experience joys you had never experienced before. And now you braced yourself, your heart gripped in agony, thinking he might prove the tales told about him true and send you away, never to seek you out after that. The books did not prepare you for the pain of his rejection. You prepared yourself anyway, your body still shaking when the featherbed sank again under his weight. Melkor threw an arm over your waist and drew you to him. Both arms encircled you now, even as he buried his face in your hair.

"I will have your possessions moved to my chambers. Rest for now, little elf." He mumbled and pressed a chaste kiss over your shoulder. "When you wake up, I will bathe you, and we will dine together. Perhaps you could even read to me."

tags: @lemonivall​ @cilil​ @edensrose​ @wandererindreams​ @asianbutnotjapanese​

[nightcourtseer]

Read on A03

Summary: Elain and Azriel steal secret moments away during Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony.

For Elriel Month 2023: Unspoken Words.

The mating ceremony was all that Rhys had promised - the stuff of dreams. Held in the gardens of the High Lord and Lady’s own riverside estate, it was the most coveted invitation of the year.

Even the weather could not have been more perfect that day in Velaris - the late summer air cool rather than stifling, with a slight breeze coming off the mountainside into the city. Nesta and Cassian had formally accepted the bond just as the sun had set over the peak of Ramiel, the faelights set aglow once darkness had swept over the gathered crowd.

The garden had never looked so magical Elain thought, as to when it was filled with everyone she loved most.

There was no room that night for pettiness or politics, as every single person seemed to bask in the happiness that radiated off of the glowing couple. A rare, beaming smile on Nesta’s face while Cassian could not seem to stop laughing and grinning so widely that most of his teeth were showing.

Throughout the night however, Elain’s eyes strayed from the happy couple to another figure who seemed extraordinarily happy, often found tucked away in the shadow of the crowd.

Silent looks and brushes of fingers and slow, secret smiles had been passed between her and Azriel all day. Kisses tucked away in empty halls and the caress of a cheek behind the willow tree. Taunting and teasing and ourtright flirting taking place right under the noses of their harried family. Quiet moments stolen, just for them.

As she moved a few stray damp curls from her neck after a long, especially exerting dance with her newly minted brother in law, she let her lithe fingers trail across the bare skin of her neck and collarbone, just sweeping across the top of her corset pushing her small but full breasts together.

Azriel had stood, the twin half-wraiths flanking him and talking to each other around him as Elain watched a dark smile tug ever so lightly at the corner of his hard set lips, his eyes rolling back slightly in his head before catching her gaze once more.

Cerridwen had looked Elain’s way just as he did so, and then sniffed delicately before whacking the spymaster across the chest with a program leaflet.

Elain had to quickly duck her head and move away to hide her laughter.

And later that night, she took special pride in her ability to tease him from the dessert table, as she felt his eyes on her from across the dance floor. Spinning dancers interrupting their eyeline, even as their gazes remained locked and flaming.

Elain held the fork up to her lips, closing their rosy fullness around the sweet dessert that had taken Nuala and Cerridwen hours to perfect. It melted liked butter on her tongue, and as she swallowed she may have let her eyes flutter shut as she let out a soft, pretty moan.

When she opened her eyes again, Azriel’s eyes had darkened across the way, his hand gripping his drink more tightly than he had been before - the veins popping as he watched Elain hungrily.

She only gave him an innocent, wide-eyed look before letting her gaze sink lower down his body, letting him track the obvious movement of her attention as her doe eyes landed between his legs.

When she looked back up at his face, he was shaking his head ever so slightly, face flushed as he gave her a smirk and turned away, disappearing before her attention prompted a physical response.

“Elain?”

She startled, not having noticed that someone was approaching her. And not only someone, but her mate.

Maybe it was the distance that had been placed between them, but she no longer felt him as innately as she once had. Her ribs no longer ached so strongly in his presence as after she had first been turned.

Lucien stood before her, his hair tied back in a long braid down his back, dressed in emerald finery and gold jewelry - earrings lining his curved lobes, an antique looking watch, and an assortment of rings. All accenting the rakish look of his scarred face and metallic eye, politely looking nowhere but her face.

She could not deny that her mate was attractive. But her body did not curve toward his, did not flutter in anticipation like it did for the male who had slipped into the crowd without anyone giving him a second look.

Except Elain, that is.

“Would you grant me the honor of a dance?” Lucien’s smile was polite - restrained. That of a practiced courtier, friendly, but not presumptuous.

It comforted her, that they both seemed to have come to the understanding that maybe that was all there was to it between them. Maybe friendship, down the line. But for now, the masks that were familiar to both of them, and acceptable to the peering eyes they felt at their backs.

As soon as the orchestra began playing the next song, Elain slipped her hand in his as he extended it, half-bowed before her. His hand felt strangely smooth in hers, a few callouses, but otherwise unmarred skin that she tried not to seem jarred by.

Lucien spun her around in practiced, precise turns, the skirts of her dress echoing the motion of her body. The glitter of her gown reflected the multitude of bobbing faelights like glass, the dusky pink having shifted into a deeper purple as the sun had set, almost as it was magic. And maybe it was, after learning who had constructed it.

Rhys had knocked on her door the week before one evening, after Feyre had already retired with Nyx for the night.

If he had noticed Elain’s change of behavior toward him that summer, once she had learned of what he had spoken with Azriel about on Solstice, he said nothing of the matter.

Of course, Elain’s frostiness may have still appeared as warmth compared to some others that Rhys encountered in his position.

The dress had been draped carefully over one arm as he entered, the other tucked formally behind his back.

But Elain did not miss his shaking hand buried underneath the glittering tulle.

The sight of it had caused her to pause, her eyes softening as she looked upon her brother in law, his own violet eyes gleaming and wrought with emotion.

“This was my sister’s,” he explained softly, as he extended the dress to her. “And even though she is no longer on this side of our world, I would like it to still remain as such. My sister’s.”

In that moment, Elain could not help but forgive him, even though he did not even realize she had been angry with him.

As she took the gown ever so carefully from his shaking hands, she forgave him quietly.

Forgiveness was a beautiful thing.

And she later learned that both of her sisters were also dressed in gowns made lovingly by his seamstress mother - as if she had been expecting them.

But Lucien did not comment on her appearance or her dress at all as they turned, comfortable silence falling over the pair as they joined the other dancers.

“You’ve been well?” Elain asked shyly.

Lucien truly did look well. His skin more bronzed than she had ever seen it, the red in his hair seemingly more vibrant, like a crackling ember.

When Elain spoke with Azriel she always felt so… breathless. As if there could not certainly be enough time in the world to tell him everything on her mind, or to hear all that there was on his. How refreshing it was, to listen and to also be heard.

“Yes, thank you. And yourself?”

Elain saw his eye catching on another figure spinning in the center of the dance floor, leading rather than being led by her hesitant partner, Varian. Spinning in circles so quickly that it was if she were a living flame, her emerald dress flowing behind her. Elain couldn’t help but notice the color looked so strikingly beautiful on both the Firebird and her own mate.

“Just fine, thank you,” Elain smiled shyly.

She did not feel the need to say anything else, and neither did he. Both of them having come to an easy understanding that was only made easier by distance - realizing that just because they were mated did not mean that they need force themselves into something neither truly desired.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I think your presence may be requested elsewhere.” She tipped her head in the direction of the joyful Vassa, who had tipped her back and let out a hollering, gleeful laugh so full and wild that the sound seemed to momentarily stun Lucien, his grip loosening around Elain’s waist.

Meanwhile, Varian was throwing desperate looks over their way, as Amren seemed to be all too happy to smirk into her wine glass as she watched her hesitant lover be flung around the dance floor.

“I believe you may be right. Thank you for the dance, Elain,” Lucien swept another graceful, courtier’s bow as the final noted played out. “I’m glad to hear you have been well.”

Elain gave him a genuine, grateful smile, and watched as Lucien took a few large steps toward Vassa and Varian, Varian immediately conceding to the Autumn prince.

She didn’t miss the Winter male’s sigh of relief as Varian stalked back over to where Amren was waiting for him with a devious smirk on her face.

“You thought that was funny, did you?” She heard him mutter, as he stole Amren’s glass of wine before she could protest and finished it one gulp, before lowering his head to whisper something in the female’s ear that had even the ancient one blushing red.

Elain looked away and began to scour the crowd, looking for a flash of familiar cobalt or black among the revelry.

Without looking for too long among the partygoers, she felt herself drifting back toward the darkened river house, which stood seemingly empty against the backdrop of the celebration in its garden.

The door that led into the kitchen was open barely an inch, and Elain slipped inside. Silent besides the quiet clicking of her heels on the stone floor.

Only one small light illuminated the quiet room, which had been bustling only hours before with last minute preparations.

Before Elain could take another step to peer into the sitting room, she was wrapped in a warm embrace. A quick breath the only indicator that he had taken her by surprise.

“Found you,” she whispered triumphantly, a wide smile splitting her face as she turned to look at her captor.

Azriel, happy, was otherwordly.

He towered over her in a neat black jacket and pants, not unlike what he wore each Solstice. But paired with the brightness of his hazel eyes and his easy smile… he was the most beautiful male she had ever laid eyes on.

The light of the single faelight above the stove gilded them both in gold as he pressed closer to her, changing their positions as if they were about to dance.

He held her hand in the air as if to lead her straight into a waltz. But then he lowered his head, pressing his lips to the crook of her neck as he breathed her in slowly, luxuriously. Reveling in her scent intermingled with the heady perfume that he had gifted her the month prior. One that he had chosen because it had reminded him of her unique markers of honey and jasmine - emphasizing those scents rather than masking them.

Shortly after receiving it, she had found a small vial when sorting through the horribly disorganized and depleted medicinal cabinet in the townhouse. It was the perfect size to house a small sample of the perfume he had gifted her, and when she presented it to him, he had sworn that he would keep it in the breast pocket of his jacket - so that if a blade ever pierced his heart, it would break the glass and he would go out with her scent being the last thing he remembered of this world.

Elain had laughed and called him an overdramatic fool but kissed him senseless anyways.

Azriel lifted his head, his smile wide and hazel eyes luminescent.

“Is that for me?” Elain asked of the full glass of champagne held in his free hand that wasn’t clasping hers.

He handed it to her, and she took a slow sip, swallowing delicately. The drink reminded her of the twinkling stars above Velaris, shimmering especially bright on that summer night as if even they were celebrating the mating ceremony taking place that evening.

Her lips shone with a bit of the bubbly drink still clinging to their fullness when she lowered the glass, but Azriel was quick to lean down, tongue darting out to catch the drop that threatened to fall on her dress, and then kissing her slowly.

“Dance with me?” He asked, as if she would ever deny him anything.

“Always,” she answered, the strength of her smile burning her cheeks as the champagne made her feel effervescent and giddy.

Azriel took her glass and set it down on the nearby counter, sweeping her into an easy waltz around the kitchen. Humming something that Elain had heard earlier that evening from the orchestra.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Elain asked, tilting her head up so that she could soak in Azriel’s rare smile, the one offered only to her.

Something in his hazel eyes softened.

“Yes, but I think I could live the rest of my life hearing only those three words.”

Elain laughed prettily, her head spinning as he led them elegantly around the table in the middle of the kitchen, the small high chair for Nyx, and an extra box of champagne bottles.

“Well then…” she teased, never having felt so weightless in her entire life.

“I love you, I love you, I love -“

Before she could finish, Azriel’s lips were on hers as if it was the very first time all over again- but so urgent it was if it might be the very last.

Elain became lost in it, his kiss, as his tongue swept across hers. The taste of champagne just as sweet and bubbly on his lips as he devoured her. His dark hair tickled her cheeks as he bent over, his hands enveloping her easily and searching for bare skin. Fingertips slipping through the fabric at her back and neck, scarred hands leaving indelible marks that only they would be able to see.

When they finally split apart, both breathless, Elain asked, her blood now on fire, “Do you think they’ll miss us if we’re gone for another 15 minutes?”

Azriel growled back lightly in response, baring his teeth and scooping her into his arms.

“Fifteen minutes? I’m going to need at least an hour with you.”

He was already unlacing her dress as he carried her up the steps with one arm, Elain laughing until he finally pulled part of it off as they reached her bedroom. And then suddenly, Elain was rather occupied with something even better than laughter.

Tag List:

@ultadverb

@reverie-tales

@illyrian-dreamer

@123moiaussi

@demarogue

@gracie-rosee

@impossiblescissorspeachpaper

[babiebom]

Dbd Killers as Nicknames my friends and I use in game

A/N: because i think. I only have like one thing posted for dbd. These are the Male Killers!

Tw:maybe cursing? None? Slight sexualization of certain killers?

Genre:headcanons? Or written like headcanons at least

Wc: maybe 3+ for each killer?

The Trapper/Evan Macmillan

Has no nickname

Is just "the trapper"

Always said in a panic tho

Is usually called a "stupid stupid man"

The Clown/Jeffrey Hawk

"Oh it's *imitation of him coughing*"

His nickname is just us coughing in gross ways

Also "you absolute baboon" by when we're upset

The Ghostface/Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson

My boyfriend

I exclusively call him this

Everyone else says "oh no your boyfriend is here"

Or we call him Ghost-a Fa-che in really bad italian accents

The Executioner/Pyramid Head

Conehead

Forgot the word pyramid

Also trianglehead

Usually proceeded or followed by "ewwwwww why is he sludging up the place????"

The Twins/Victor Deshayes

Ugly little baby

We forgot that he is not really a baby

We also call him Viktor Vector

Usually followed by "kill her little baby"

Or "stomp on himmmmm"

Then "yeah that's what you get you ugly baby"

The Mastermind/Albert Wesker

Lil Kitty Meow Meow

Bc I accidentally called him whisker

And that reminded me of the Lil kitty meow meow meme

Is usually followed by his "urgh" when he does the dashy thing

The Nemesis/Nemesis

Nemesussy

It was a slip of the tongue that stuck

I also call him Thanos half the time

I forget his name and panic

Then call him Thanos because big purple man

Usually proceeded by "oh god it's Thanos I can see his stupid little zombies"

The Doctor/Herman Carter

Has no nickname but is usually called out by saying "sorry I can't talk right now he's ELECTROCUTING ME"

followed by imitations of his laugh

The Legion/Frank&Joey

I do not know how to write this

It's literally just The Legion but pronounced with a very bad French accent

Also Franklin or Frankie-boy

And Josepher and "which one is this one again"

The Trickster/Jiwoon Hak

We either call him Trickster

Or Jungkook from Bts(yes this whole thing)

Is usually followed by "bob and weave and bob and weave"

Or is followed by "please dont kamsahamnida me"

The Wraith/ Phillip Ojomo

Bing Bong

Because when he hits his little thing it goes Bing Bong

Usually proceeded by "oh god" and "please don't be bingbong"

Usually followed by "oh god where did he go"

The Hillbilly/ Max Thompson Jr

We just call him by Max

I usually call him Maxie-poo

Cute

The Cannibal/ Bubba Sawyer

Like Max we just call Bubba by Bubba

Bubba is a cute nickname in of itself

The Oni/Kazan Yamaoka

Onigiri

Because I said "Oni? Like onigiri?"

Followed by screaming or "someone stop him he's eating my blood"

The Deathslinger/Caleb Quinn

Rootie tootie mcshooty shooty

Because it's funny

Also sometimes call him the hashslinger

Or hashslinging slashed

From spongebob because we again forgot his name

The Shape/Michael Myers

Miku Miku

Because I panicked when I saw him and could not speak or remember his name for the life of me

Usually followed by "oh god this is gonna be a bad match"

Also followed by singing the song but only by saying Bing and bong.

The Nightmare/Freddy Kreuger

"Ew its stupid what's his face....sleepytime....nightnight"

Has no real nickname because we're not happy to see him

"Why is there blood coming out of this...oh."

"Haha your neck is bent weird"

The Blight/Talbot Grimes

Incoherent screaming

Literally it's "uhhhh HA HUHHHH WHA HELP"

Followed by "why is he so fast?"

Or is called speedy Gonzales or Sonic

The Knight/Tarhos Kovács

I have accidentally called him the borgo

We also just call him the knight or just scream

The Cenobite/Elliot Spencer

Pinhead

I find it funny that that is an actual name for him

Because we usually call him that

The Demogorgon(?)

Or "stupid pinhead" but you get the gist

Also BabyBox

Bad doggie

He is a dog that is bad because he keeps biting me with his weird little face

The Dredge(?)

Is this thing a male? Idk but it counts

Again we are bad at remembering names

Half the time he is called the sludge

Usually followed by "why is it nighttime"

[arofili]

Elladan + Elrohir, #21 break or be broken, winter

You can spin it however you like but I'm obsessed with the 'chose who lives/dies' trope being somehow spun with this prompt.

The one and only thing I can't cope with, with these characters, is when they choose different fates , one Human and one Elf. I hate that so much. Otherwise anything goes.

(AO3 is Elladan_E)

“Break or be broken?” snarled the wraith in its foul tongue.

Elladan cast aside his sword, not watching as it skittered across the ground and off into the chasm below. His gaze was fixed on his foe, and his brother in the spirit’s grasp.

“Break me,” he declared. “I will never harm him.”

The Nazgûl laughed, a wretched, breathless sound. Casually as one might toss aside the husk of nut, it flung Elrohir aside. Elladan tensed at the dull impact his brother made as he hit the ground, but he dared not look away from the wraith.

He thought he heard Elrohir whimper. That had to be enough. It had to be. If Elrohir had died...

“He lives,” the Nazgûl growled. “For now. But you, half-breed, shall live no longer.”

Elladan stood firm as the spirit approached. He had no more weapons; his bow was broken, his arrows spent, his sword swallowed by the depths of the wicked forest below. He held his head high as the Nazgûl lifted its scythe, ready to bring it down and sever life from limb—

El! No! El!

He flinched. Damn him, he flinched. How could he remain still and stoic when his twin’s voice rang panicked in his mind?

Don’t—El, please—

I will see you again, Elladan promised, bracing himself for the inevitable blow. They’d talked about their Choices, but hadn’t made them; it never seemed pressing. But now, with the end so near...

Well. So long as they made the same Choice, they’d never be alone.

And if Arwen Chose mortality...

Elladan! Elrohir screamed in his mind.

See you in Valinor, Elladan said, then shoved his brother out of his mind.

The scythe lowered. Elladan closed his eyes.

A great blow knocked the wind out of him, and he heard the Nazgûl scream—but it was too late. Elladan crumpled to the ground, and everything went dark.

~~~

“Don’t ever do that to me again!” Elrohir sobbed, clinging to him so tight Elladan thought he might stop breathing (again).

He was awake—he was alive. He was home, in Imladris, and his father was watching him with an exhausted smile. Arwen stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders, sorrow in her eyes.

“El,” he croaked. “I’m...what happened?”

“Grandfather Celeborn saved you,” Arwen murmured. “And Grandmama and King Thranduil drove the Nazgûl away. You’ve been asleep for...weeks. But you’re awake now. It’s going to be okay.”

“Your fëa is strong,” his father said quietly. “It...you healed faster than I anticipated. It is as if...”

Elladan swallowed. “I—I think...”

Arwen nodded sadly. “I thought so.”

Elrond wiped away a tear. “I cannot say I am not relieved,” he admitted. “But with our Choice comes sorrow, no matter the decision.”

“I just...I thought I was dying,” Elladan murmured. “And I knew...you would sail eventually, Ada, and Naneth already has, and...and...” He looked helplessly at Elrohir. “I wanted to see you again. All of you. But...El, I’m sorry. We always said we would Choose together...”

“We did,” Elrohir croaked, his face half-buried in Elladan’s shoulder. “I Chose, too, the moment you did. You’d have known if you hadn’t shoved me out of our twin-bond—”

“I didn’t want you to feel me die—!”

“And you think I wanted you to die for me?” Elrohir cried.

“None of us is dead,” Ada said firmly. He very purposefully did not look up at Arwen. “We are all together still. And we will be for a very long while yet. The Quest succeeded! As soon as you are well, Elladan, we will travel to Minas Tirith, and Arwen...”

“My Choice was made years ago,” Arwen said softly. “But soon I shall begin to live it.” She walked over to Elladan’s bedside and kissed both her brothers on the brow. “El. And El. I love you. I suspected you would Choose this way...it is good that Naneth will see her boys again, even if she and I are forever sundered.”

“Arwen,” Elrohir whispered.

“We love you too,” Elladan echoed, and meant it fully. “And no matter our Choices, we will always be family.”

[wingedblooms]

Wraiths wear bodies

When we find out that Vanir wraiths wear bodies and change them often…

It reminded me of Elain asking Amren about her ability to change bodies.

And I can’t help but wonder about the moment Nesta scans her sister and considers if she’s been training with the shadowsinger or…the half-wraith twins.

If Elain has learned to move like a wraith from her friends, is it possible she could learn to wear bodies or shift her appearance, too? Is that why she looked so wraithlike after she was changed in the Cauldron? I have a feeing their powers are much more similar than we realize.

More on wraiths here.

[starfall-spirit]

🍪 Cookies and Consequences 🍪

Based off of this HC by @shallyne

Thanks for letting me use it, lovely!

Summary: Rhys struggles for an excuse not to accept a late night snack from Feyre before she discovers the mating bond.

Word Count: 908

This wasn't supposed to be a heart-to-heart moment, but whatever.

~~~~~

Rhys needed a break. Fifty years. Five decades. Half a century. You could phrase it how you want it, but one fact remained constant. Fifty years had passed with a High Lord absent from both sides of his court. Even with months of work behind him, his family picking up tasks and correspondence that shouldn’t be theirs, things still needed done. He huffed, running a hand through his hair as he turned down the hall leading to his bedroom.

He glanced to the room adjacent to his, the action habitual at this point. He was surprised to find Feyre’s door cracked, a fae light providing a dim glow somewhere near the bed. Despite the late hour, he couldn’t resist checking in on her tonight.

A soft knock at the door and she called for him to come in. Though the town house was warmed by magic, Feyre was guarding against the chilly night under an impressive pile of ridiculously fuzzy blankets he knew his cousin favored. 

“Running a bit cold?” he teased, draping the final blanket around her hunched shoulders.

She drew her eyes from her book, giving him a look he knew was on the foreground of a sassy comment. “Your magic must be failing you oh Mighty High Lord. This house is freezing.”

He chuckled, settling into the chair against the other wall and watching her return to her book. Legs stretched in front of him, he let himself relax, content in the easy silence between them. A few months ago an evening like this was nothing short of a fantasy. And yet there were more and more evenings she accepted his offer of dining together and talking late into the night. He could only pray she wouldn’t discover something unforgivable about him and his past.

“You don’t have to play entertainer, you know.” He just realized his eyes were drooping closed as he lifted his head to meet her gaze. “Rough day?”

“You have no idea.” She cocked her head slightly. “This is all I was raised for. All I let myself want to do. And yet some days I wonder what a simpler life would be like.”

Illyria couldn’t exactly be called simple.

“A life without a crown and mask? Velaris—”

“Velaris calls me by my name. Citizens are affectionate. But at the end of the day someone is still going to write stories of my reign. Stories of my friends' battle glory.”

Unspoken words hung between them. She too was training as a member of Rhys’ circle. And she too was a name historians would mark. Feyre Cursebreaker. Savior of Prythian. Darling of the people.

A queen among them, if he could have it his way.

She sighed, twisting towards her nightstand to pick up a plate of cookies, one of the three halfway eaten. She took the bitten cookie off, extending the plate in his direction. “Here. Join me in having some simple cookies.” His heart shot straight to his throat and he was left staring at that plate. At that simple, ignorant offering of a late night snack. One he couldn’t yet accept. “Rhys? Cookie?”

He laced his fingers together to keep them from trembling. “No, thank you,” he murmured, eyes glued to the plate.

“Are you sure, because it looks like you want one,” she said. The wraiths likely made them. If Feyre didn’t actually make them, would the presentation hold the same significance? What was he thinking? Food was food, his mate was his mate, whether she stood over the oven or not. “I made them myself. Well, I made the batter under the twins’ watch.” He gave a tense smile. She was not making this easy. “Rhys, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. The cookies are yours. I won’t snatch any away from you.” She narrowed her eyes, clearly suspicious. “Besides, my brothers can still kick my ass with my healthy eating and exercise. Cookies won’t do me any favors in getting back in shape.” A pathetic excuse and she knew it.

Still, her eyes slowly swept down his figure, and with her shields down, unconsciously or not…

One cookie isn’t going to do a figure like that any harm.

A resonating laugh tore out of him then and she blushed, shields snapping into place once more. “Glad to see you're still attracted to me, Feyre darling.”

“Prick,” she hissed, chucking an offending cooking at his chest as her blush brightened. Oh what a shame, it hit the floor. What slow reflexes he had. “Besides," she snipped, eyes dipping to her book this time. An impressive novel that surpassed "Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord". “—Azriel’s the pretty one and we all know it.”

“Darling, you wound me.” A wave of his hand had the floor clean. “I should be going. We both need our beauty rest.”

She gave a dramatic sigh. “Good night, Rhysand.”

He paused in the doorway, glancing back towards the bed. “Feyre, only my enemies call me Rhysand.”

“And acquaintances. If we can’t even share cookies, are we friends?”

He suppressed a smirk, passing the theatrics off as a consequence of delirium. “Now, Feyre.”

“Good night, Rhysand.”

He sighed, turning and stooping down to brush his lips to the back of her hand. “Sleep well, Feyre. Dream of me, will you?”

Her snort followed him even as their two doors snicked shut. There closed another evening with the female who held his heart.

Taglist: Reach out to be added or removed.

@faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @darling-archeron

[amorhedera6]

as someone who watched and loved season 1 of flash, and someone who watched tolerated all the way up to season 5 and half of season 6, i decided to sit down and watch the flash finale. and boy do i have thoughts.

most of them are what the fuck is going on.

i watched all of once upon a time, so i’ve been burned by shows losing steam and obsessing over the main ship instead of the interesting plot before. when i saw the signs in the flash, i pulled back. i didn’t wanna go through it again. honestly i should’ve before i did, but i have a crippling crush on grant gustin.

1) khione

i like dc comics, but it spans infinitely and there are lots of things i don’t know, so correct me if i’m wrong. but i did a little research and it doesn’t seem to me that khione was a character in the comics. so (if danielle panabaker was staying on the show) why not just let her be caitlin? have they just decided against the character they have been writing since season one? khiones plot of understanding her powers, of of coming to terms with who/what she was all could have easily transferred to caitlin. it got her well when they first began to integrate killer frost into her story! they could have continued, once frost died, by having caitlin regain some of frost’s powers. while having her mourn her sister, she adapts to having powers again and how to be herself with them and not frost. an echo of the plot that she was already going through when the writers decided to just jeckyll/hyde her. it would have worked incredibly well! plus, it would give caitlin a fulfilling end to the question she’s been asking since season one: who is she on her own? in season one, it was without ronnie, in season two she was battling discovering these powers, and by season three she was battling becoming the super villain she knew her doppelgänger was. making her another new character with the same plot that caitlin, then frost had just defeats caitlin’s purpose. when the original core characters of your show keep leaving (cisco, joe, any version of wells) why kill of another just to replace her with such a similar character played by the same actress?? it truly baffles me.

2) the time wraiths

i’m sure i’m not the first one to say this, but why introduce the time wraiths if you want to have barry keep time traveling to and fro. “but they’re creatures of the speed force, so obviously wouldn’t attack the avatar!” okay fine. NORA IS NOT THE AVATAR. WHY DOES SHE NEVER FACE CONSEQUENCES FOR HER TIME TRAVELS. SHE HELD HERSELF. AS A BABY. THAT SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED.

i may be biased bc i don’t like nora.

3) bart

i know he wasn’t really mentioned much in the finale, but i wanted to understand things i’d missed/forgot so i looked into him for this. why did they make bart a part of the show. i understand he’s a big character in the comics, but if they wanted to have another child for barry and iris be introduced, why not use the tornado twins? why use his grandson and just change it? any create nora at all?? (again i’m probably just biased against nora, but still)

it just doesn’t make any sense to me to take an established character and change their lore just bc you like it better than using the established characters, since that conflicts with your original characters. JUST FOLLOW THE SOURCE MATERIAL ITS NOT THAT HARD.

4) eddie

bringing back eddie thawne, when his sacrifice already didn’t achieve its purpose, completely cheapens the finale of season one. especially by making him an uncle villain who wants to destroy the timeline because his fiancée (who he knew was destined to be with barry in the future) denied him because she already had a husband and family.

eddie didn’t like barry in season one. he rightly thought that he was into iris and came in between the two of them. but he tried to be his friend because he was friends with joe and he loved iris. he was a good guy and he wanted good for the people in his life. he loved iris, and if it truly made her happier to be with barry than him, he would have stepped to the side, the finale completely changes his character for the wills of the plot, making him hate barry for “stealing his life” when he sacrificed himself so iris could continue to live her life happily.

5) iris’ labor

for two and a half of the four episodes of the finale, iris is in labor. and because they’re being attacked by the negative speed force, everyone rallies together to fight, and she is left alone in the hospital in labor.

WHY DID NO ONE CALL JOE???

i get he has jenna to look after or whatever, but that’s his daughter, she’s in labor, the father of the baby he also calls his son, and yeah it’s weird, but we don’t talk about that. his daughter is in labor, all alone, worried about wether or not barry will survive, and no one thinks that he would be helpful to the situation at all. so fucking stupid. i understand if maybe the actor didn’t want to come back for it, but he was already in the finale episodes anyway!! he was a major point in the first episode, and he was there when she finally had the baby in the end!! why couldn’t he just be there for a little bit longer??

6) cisco

okay, carlos valdez has said that he had scheduling conflicts, and that it was heartbreaking for him not to be able to return for the finale. i understand that. i am not at all criticizing that.

they couldn’t even name drop cisco? be like, ciscos picking up the cake at the party scene? have caitlin be in the phone with him instead of her mother at the end? they were best friends, you’re saying when she came back from the dead she didn’t even call him? or say i called cisco, he has blah blah blah going on so he can’t come help buuuut he gave us this vital piece of information!!

come one people. throw us a bone.

7) chester

i did get to chester in the original series, but it was like right as i was losing interest in it, so i didn’t care to research him at all, but i did for this! why did they make him diet cisco?? internet he comics, because he has a vortex inside of him, chester is fat. why was he played by a skinny guy? why did they not utilize his character to its full extent instead of just being a replacement once they found out carlos was leaving the show??

okay that’s all i have, i wanted to complain bc it made me angry. i liked the flash originally, i think it had a lot of good potential, but like so many shows, it was dredged on too long, got convoluted, the writing prowess diminished instead of flourishing, and it ended after too many seasons. sorry to the flash, you could’ve been so good.

[shallyne]

Feysand Week Day 5: Starfall

Accepting Help

Day five, fic five 🥰 @officialfeysandweek2023

Words: 965

TW: none

It's Starfall, Nyx is fussy and Feyre can't seem to calm him down but she's also not ready to ask for help

Nyx was crying. Feyre tried everything, changing his diaper, trying to feed him, putting him to sleep, carrying him around the house but he kept crying, even louder when Feyre tried to put him down.

It was the day of Starfall and everyone already got ready to go to the house of wind but the more time went by, Feyre didn't think she could make it. She wouldn't leave her son with Nuala and Cerridwen, especially not in this state. Not because she didn't trust the wraiths but Feyre knew how it was to be pushed into someone else's arms when all she needed was motherly love. Never would she put her kids through that, no holiday would keep her from her son.

Her eyes fell on the little outfit she got made for Nyx, for today. It was the twin to Rhys's outfit, a surprise for Nyx's first Starfall. Sighing, she spoke down the bond.

Rhysand

Waiting for an answer, she kept pacing the room. Nyx was still crying, but at least he wasn't screaming his lungs out anymore. Rhys's answer came quickly, even though he was in a meeting. The last for today, with the palace governors.

Is everything okay?

Of course he knew.

Nyx and I will stay home today, he won't stop crying.

She waited for Rhys's reply but nothing came. Was he upset? She doubted that, maybe he was just stuck in his meeting–

Feyre stopped when she felt a gust of Rhys's power and turned, looking at him. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in a meeting!" she told him, stopping to rock Nyx. Feeling the sudden change, Nyx started crying again, tears, tears rolling down his soft cheeks. Feyre murmured softly to him, gently rocking back and forth. Rhys watched them. First Nyx in her arms and then he watched her. Taking in her whole appearance.

"I cut the meeting short. Since when is he crying?" he asked.

Feyre shrugged. "A few hours. Not like that, not the whole time. He's getting calmer for a few minutes, then he starts crying again. He fell asleep once but when I tried to put him down he started crying again." her voice cracked at the end. She didn't cry because Nyx was crying. It was more desperation because she couldn't help him, not even her water animals could calm him, and exhaustion.

Rhys shrugged off his jacket and walked over to her, pressing a kiss to her temple and on Nyx's head. "I'll take him." he told her, gently taking him from Feyre's grasp. "Take a bath. Or take a nap first. When did you last eat?"

"But Nyx–"

"I'll take care of him."

"You need to get ready for Starfall."

Rhys shook his head, stroking his hand over Nyx's soft hair. "I'm not going."

Feyre tensed, "They are expecting you. I'll be fine–"

"Feyre, I won't go. This isn't negotiable. If you don't want to get rest, a bath or a meal, sit down but I'll stay." he sighed, "You should have told me earlier, I would have postponed the meeting."

"You shouldn't postpone the meeting, I've got it. I–" Rhys looked at her, waiting for her to continue, "Fine, I should have told you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he waved his hand and the sound of gurgling water reached Feyre, "It's hard but we are a team." he kissed the top of her head, My whining in his arms. "Take a bath. I don't want to see you back until nine."

"That's half an hour." she told him.

"You're right, that's barely long enough to relax–"

"No, it's great!" she said, walking to the bathing chamber. Turning around again, she smiled, "I love you."

"I love you, too." he said.

Feyre managed to stay exactly eighteen minutes in the bathtub before she got nervous and stepped out. She couldn’t hear Nyx any more and every silent minute made her anxiety spike. She quickly dried herself off and put on a pair of leggings and one of Rhys's shirts, sneaking to his room. Rhys sat on the rocking chair Feyre had found in a store in the Rainbow. Nyx wasn't asleep but he rested his head on Rhys's chest and watched as Rhys made some shadow figures and slowly hummed a melody that Feyre wasn't familiar with. He didn't seem to notice Feyre in the doorway. Feyre listened closely to them, Rhys's humming and especially Nyx's breathing. She watched as her son's eyelids grew heavier and fell closed. In only a matter of minutes he was asleep.

I think he was overtired, Rhys spoke into her mind. Feyre tensed slightly. She knew babies could get overtired but she couldn't help the wave of guilt overcoming her. She had tried to put him to sleep. Should she have tried earlier? Should she have tried longer?

It's not your fault, Rhys's voice calmed her down. You did everything right.

He stood up, taking a blanket that hung over the crib and said "Come with me." Nyx barely stirred as they went up the stairs to the rooftop terrace, settling on the iron chairs. Feyre helped wrapping the blanket around Nyx.

"Is he fully wrapped in? I don't want him to be cold." she whispered, Rhys smiled.

"You wrapped him up perfectly, Feyre darling." he grabbed her chair to pull her nearer and took her hand. "Now look up."

She did and after a few heartbeats, stars started to shoot through the sky. Feyre teared up, resting her head on his shoulder. "Happy Starfall, Rhys."

"Happy Starfall, Feyre Darling."

She wiped away a tear, "And happy first Starfall to our little star."

Rhys didn't answer. He didn't have to.

Feyre could feel his gratitude and love through the bond.

Feysand Taglist:

@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @edgyellie @starfall-spirit @rhysiedarling @corcracrow @sydney-fae25 @tothestarsandwhateverend @aayo-whatt @dreamlandreader

[slitheringss]

I think my favorite part of this AU has been dealing with the different dynamics/bonds. For instance, I've been enjoying coming up with things/adventures Hiccup and Viggo would have done as kids while they grew up together. Building it up as they grow older till they hit 15 where it all comes to head when Viggo is told Hiccup is "dead", his journey and struggles through life as he grows, and then an unexpected reunion.

Viggo's mind came to a halt. It wasn't real. It wasn't feasible. No matter the forlorn look in Stoick's voice and eyes, it wasn't true. Hiccup had died. His best friend and growing crush had been killed, leaving him with the sour confirmation that Hiccup wasn't his soulmate; even if he wanted so badly for him to be. He would have felt it, and he's devastated at the loss of him. He made Viggo care when nothing else really mattered. He grows colder and distant, his presence far more chilling. He puts all his focus on dragon hunting and becoming chief. He may still occasionally feel pain from a person who's supposedly his other half, but what would that matter when they're still here and Hiccup isn't? No one would have been as worthy or acceptable of such a title as Hiccup. Hiccup had complimented him in ways he hadn't truly known till he was gone. No one would do such such a justice as him, and it'd be an injustice for anyone else to try.

So imagine his surprise to going up against the Archipelago Wraith and finding it a worthy adversary. Something more intelligent and quick than others believed. That this "creature" was far more sentient. A new player on the board. Another to rival his intelligence. It makes him yearn for all that was lost and taken from him. He won't let such an opportunity such as this go to waste. But in the quiet moments, when the world is quiet, his room bathed low in candlelight, and all is seemingly right with the world, Viggos mind wanders of Hiccup. What'd he'd think or do in the face of these situations.

When his 20th birthday comes around and no one has teleported to him, he's understandably concerned. The tribe worries, and his counsel is in an uproar. While they debate, Viggo finds that this is a much more suitable outcome. With the current circumstances, it would have been more of a detriment to drag a stranger along. Someone who probably couldn't hold a conversation or a flame to his own intelligence. No, this was far better. Besides, if it was meant to be, the gods would have brought them to him. They didn't. Therefore, they weren't meant for each other.

Months later, waking up in a room not his own, being stared down by twin shadows from above was not something he could have ever expected. Even more so for his elusive Wraith to reveal far more than they probably wanted and into a world known by only to few. To behold secrets the world would kill for. To find the one thing he's wanted, yearned, and mourned for for years. For him to discover Hiccup Haddock, lived. And just for a moment, everything was right.

[thecrxwclub]

the crows described using five of their quotes

Kaz

“And then there are the ones who stay awake, running through the trick again and again, looking for that skip in perception, the crack in the illusion that will explain how their eyes got duped; they’re the kind who won’t rest until they’ve mastered that little bit of mystery for themselves. I’m that kind . . . I love puzzles. Trickery is just my native tongue.”

“He knew exactly what he intended to leave behind when he was gone. Damage.”

“There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong, and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.”

“Well, Brekker, it’s obvious you only deal in half-truths and outright lies, so you’re clearly the man for the job.”

“Would you?" asked Wylan, his chin jutting forward. "Trust someone with that knowledge, with a secret that could destroy you?" Yes, thought Kaz without hesitation. There's one person I would trust. One person I know who would never use my weaknesses against me.”

Inej

“You still may die in the Dregs." Inej’s dark eyes had glinted. "I may. But I'll die on my feet with a knife in my hand.”

“She was not a lynx or a spider or even the Wraith. She was Inej Ghafa, and her future was waiting above.”

“For some reason, those words had comforted her. Better terrible truths than kind lies.”

“I'm already a ghost, she thought. I died in the hold of a slaver ship.”

“"I'm not ready to give up on this city, Kaz. I think it's worth saving." I think you're worth saving.” . . . She would fight for him, but she could not heal him. She would not waste her life trying.”

Jesper

“Facts are for the unimaginative,” Jesper said with a dismissive wave.

“There was a long silence, and then, eyes trained on the notch they’d created in the link, Wylan said, “Just girls?” Jesper restrained a grin. “No. Not just girls.”

“That sound - the swift, shocking report of gunfire - called the scattered, irascible, permanently seeking part of his mind into focus like nothing else.”

“Take good care of my babies,” Jesper said as he handed them over to Dirix. “If I see a single scratch or nick on those, I’ll spell forgive me on your chest in bullet holes.”

“If any of you survive, make sure I have an open casket,” Jesper said as he hefted two slender coils of rope over his shoulder and signalled for Wylan to follow him across the roof. “The world deserves a few more moments with this face.”

Wylan

“You’re not weak because you can’t read. You’re weak because you’re afraid of people seeing your weakness. You’re letting shame decide who you are.”

You’re our chemist, Wylan,” said Nina hopefully. “What do you think?” Wylan shrugged. “Maybe. Not all poisons have an antidote.” Jesper snorted. “That’s why we call him Wylan Van Sunshine.”

“You know, Wylan, one of these days I'm going to stop underestimating you.” “There was a brief pause and then, somewhere ahead, he heard Wylan say, "Then you're going to be a lot harder to surprise.”

“Until this moment, Wylan hadn't quite understood how much they meant to him. His father would have sneered at these thugs and thieves, a disgraced soldier, a gambler who couldn't keep out of the red. But they were his first friends, his only friends, and Wylan knew that even if he'd had his pick of a thousand companions, these would have been the people he chose.”

“What do you like?" "Music. Numbers. Equations. They're not like words. They ... they don't get mixed up." "If only you could talk to girls in equations." There was a long silence, and then, eyes trained on the notch they'd created in the link, Wylan said, "Just girls?”

Nina

“Nina stopped laughing. “I am going to turn your teeth inside out.” “That is physically impossible.” “I just raised the dead. Do you really want to argue with me?”

“You aren’t a flower, you’re every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming.”

“They were twin souls, soldiers destined to fight for different sides, to find each other and lose each other too quickly. She would not keep him here. Not like this.”

“Nina just liked to flirt with everything. He’d once seen her make eyes at a pair of shoes she fancied in a shop window.”

“What do you want, Kaz?” “You have crumbs on your cleavage.” “Don’t care,” she said, taking another bite of cake. “So hungry.” Kaz shook his head, amused and impressed at how quickly Nina dropped the wise Grisha priestess act. She’d missed her true calling on the stage.”

Matthias

“Nina, I am with you because you let me be with you. There is no greater honor than to stand by your side.”

“Do not be afraid. Fear is how they control you. There's so much in the world you don't have to be afraid of, if you would only open your eyes.”

“I’m trying to compel you to kiss me.” “That’s foolish.” “Why is that?” “Because I always want to kiss you,” he admitted.”

“They fear you as I once feared you,” he said. “As you once feared me. We are all someone’s monster, Nina.”

He doesn’t approve of anything about you. But when you laugh, he perks up like a tulip in fresh water.” Nina snorted. “Matthias the tulip.” “The big, brooding, yellow tulip.”