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sideralwriting · 1 year

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Merry Christmas to you @reverie-tales! I’m glad I was your Secret Santa and I’m sorry if this fanfiction reaches you on Christmas day already. I didn’t like how the old fic was turning out so I decided for another twist. Tarquin had to go XD I hope it isn’t too heavy to read, I never wrote this many words ahaha.

Merry Christmas again and thanks to @acotargiftexchange for planning the event!!

Feysand fanfic, modern AU. Word count: 4115. TW: Tamlin & Ianthe (aka the manipulation squad), NSFW (my giftee likes a lil angst and good spices atm eheh).

Edit: Summary: Every aspect of Feyre’s life as fiancée of Tamlin is carefully approached by her future father-in-law but everything changes the day she runs into Morrigan.

What a treasure you are

Feyre got out of the SUV in front of her favorite museum on a sunny June afternoon. That was her favorite place and spent most of her free time there, which amounted to basically half a day.

Tamlin had sent Ianthe later that morning to escort her to her outings and she was trying to enjoy every bit of it. Not that her routine was any different since she finished college last year: wake up, have breakfast — her new obsession was avocado toast with only avocados and sesame seeds on an almost burnt bread slice— clean the house and get out of it before 1 PM.

Feyre saw Tamlin only when he came home later into the night and before he went to work, right before she was fully awake. She was grateful to him for working enough to allow them to have a life together, but she missed doing something, anything, even if it was in order to ease his stress. Tamlin's rage grew by the day. Out of frustration for his job as his father's and Amaratha's assistant, for sure, nonetheless she was afraid. Feyre didn't want to admit it to anyone, not even herself, nor she wanted to admit that Ianthe was more the controlling kind of person than actually a family friend.

So she escaped her reality with a year-long membership to her favorite of the Prythian’s Spring Court Museums.

Feyre’s pale green dress with ridiculously big puffy sleeves had been Ianthe's "gift", accurately chosen to show off her fair skin and "bring justice to Tamlin's family name". Obviously Feyre hated it with burning passion. That day she didn't put any sunscreen on because she didn't think it would be necessary. She wasn’t Tamlin’s or his father’s creature to manipulate as they pleased. She wanted freedom to do as she pleased, without it to be judged and reported back to them. Feyre wanted to paint and paint, she wanted to be someone on her own, wanted to sell her paintings to sustain her family and travel to the mountain at least once. So she strolled through the art gallery, Ianthe a few steps behind her, waiting for her opportunity to start living again. She applied for every exhibition but her soon to be father-in-law had connections everywhere in the city and made sure she couldn’t take part in it even changing the dates of a few major events.

Feyre sat on a cream divan in front of the painting of a pink cherry tree, leaning against the highest part of the divan at her right.

Father-in-law. Husband. Tamlin’s wife. That’s what her life was bound to be the moment her father asked for a loan to the man. Feyre’s father was called the Prince of Trading before he lost everything because of a hurricane. He then asked Tamlin’s father, a collegue of his, some financiary help to pay off a couple of major debts… Creating a bigger one. Feyre’s wedding was to be an alliance between the traders. An alliance she loved at first, to help her family and being loved by a caring man. Everything started to change as Tamlin had more pressure, his temper started rising, they started arguing. What she hated more was that she couldn’t reply, nor help. Feyre had just to suppress her own frustration and avoid him as much as she could, bonus if she managed to endure Ianthe’s meddling. “Are you going to stare at that particular thing for long, Miss?” Mother above, the woman truly brought the worse out of her. Feyre turned her head slowly toward the guard and glued a dumb smile on her face.

“I’m sorry, Ianthe, what were you saying? This art piece is magnificent, isn’t it? The colors are so pale that you can feel the sadness-"

“I’m regretful to remind you of this in such a nice place, Miss Feyre,” the woman sure enough of her position that she interrupted her boss’ fiancée, “but Mr. Tamlin didn’t send me only for company. I’m here to accompany you to buy the new dress for Mrs. Amarantha’s charity party”. Right. Because why else would anyone approach her? Feyre sighed and got up from the divan. “You’re right, Ianthe”, she agreed, “you are not here for company.” The guard flinched and her cheeks reddened in anger. “Lead the way, now”.

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The little bell on the boutique’s door jingled as Feyre and Ianthe entered the place. They were greeted by a dark-haired woman with chocolate eyes. “Welcome to Windheaven, ladies. I’m Mrs. Hilda, the seamstress. How can I help you?”

Feyre explained to Mrs. Hilda what the occasion was and most of all who the host was. After the tailor asked her to undress and step on the platform at the center of a private room, the woman took her mesurements and started sketching, draping fabrics over Feyre’s waist and shoulders. Feyre took her time enjoying the fabrics and trying to remember as many details as she could for her next painting: lilac walls, dark brown partitions, a big fuzzy white carpet. Ianthe kept nugging at the tailor’s sketches and Feyre was glad that no one ever tried to do the same thing with her paintings… for now. How would things change after she got married? After she had to give Tamlin an heir?

She turned to avoid panicking in front of a stranger and most of all in front of her guard when she lifted her gaze and saw it.

Her first painting, her first sale. A lake of starlight with weeping willows caressing the white waters. How had it ended up there? Her dorm roommate bought it, did she sell it in turn? Did someone steal it? “How-” she starded, but right at that moment the door slammed wide open and a lean figure entered the room submerged in fabric rolls

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Ianthe yelled, “Have you no decency for customers? Ask for forgiveness and get out right now!” but neither the newcomer nor Feyre were listening to her since the first one put down the fabric rolls near Hilda and turned. Feyre had recognised those footsteps as soon as she heard them. They jumped as her heart did. Because in front of her, in a wonderful red dress and blonde ponytail stands her best friend. The moment their eyes met, tears started flowing down her cheeks, warm, big tears that mirrored the ones on her friend’s cheeks.

“Miss Feyre Archeron! It’s been a year since I last saw you.” The chestnut eyes of the blonde woman brightened as she hugged Feyre as thight as she could. “Mor…” She smelled of citrus as always and Feyre would be forever grateful for even that didn’t change in her friend. In Feyre’s own life. So she hugged her tighter because words failed her. “I know”, the first one said, “I missed you too, my dear friend”.

“This is outrageous! Get out or I’ll-“ Feyre glared at the stupidity of her guard and debated how to get rid of her once and for all. “You will do what exactly, Ianthe? I know this woman-“

“But she isn’t approved-“ “Silence, Ianthe. Last time I checked it was thanks to me you still had your job, so go breathing some fresh air.” Her heart kept thundering and her hands trembled, “And next time you interrupt me, you’ll be done for.”

“How did my painting get up there?” Feyre asked, sitting on the plushy carpet. Ianthe stormed out of the room and she got dressed in the frilly green dress. “Mrs. Hilda is my aunt,” answered Morrigan over a cup of tea. The seamstress saluted with a pencil in hand and a mischievious grin before returning to her sketches. Then, “Morrigan always told me about her ‘super-talented best friend forever’ and the day she bought it she gifted it to me so that it could bring me joy everyday. And it did.”

New tears thretened her eyes whe she turned from the middle aged woman. Obviously her old friend didn’t miss a thing, though. Mor gripped her hands together, “What happens, Fey? Tell me all about it”. Probably it was her memories or her friend’s presence or the tea, anyway she crumbled. She told her about her father’s debts, how she will have to marry Tamlin, how she had no control over her life, Tamlin’s behaviour. Even Feyre’s phone was closely examined by Ianthe everyday so it was better for Morrigan not to have it. The eyes of her best friend blackened as she told her about her life, stroking Feyre’s head in confort.

That day, Feyre left the boutique with more hope than she had in a while. She had to know that it couldn’t last long, though. As soon as her SUV reached the manor's parking lot, she knew something was up. First of all, Tamlin's own car was there too and it was only six in the afternoon. Second thing was Ianthe's smirk since she saw the other car too.

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December has always been Rhysand's favorite month. Lights everywhere glittering like stars, laughing people, warm beverages and snowball wars. He strolled through the city aiming for his favorite jeweler. Amren needed a new pair of earrings more than her life and Rhys was determined to buy his old friend the best pair Velaris had to offer. He was almost done with everyone's gifts, the pile of them from his family growing under his own tree. They got so excited that most of them tried to shake and even sniff the packaging to understand what the hell was inside of it. Somehow his Inner Circle has found him trustworthy enough to place everything at his home. Sometimes he regretted giving them the keys, but he loved them a lot. There was only one gift he still had to buy.

Morrigan's friend, Feyre, had lived with his cousin since September. They met a few times and even though her expression looked haunted most of the time, her witty replies made him loudly laugh. Pair that with how she called him a prick on different occasions and he had fallen in love. Hard and sudden. He wanted Feyre to start smiling again and wanted her to feel safe around him. He wanted to make her feel the most loved person on this planet. Mor and Feyre left for a three week holiday in Italy getting themselves drunk on shopping and nice food almost every day.

After purchasing Amren's earrings and a brooch, he found himself in front of his mother's boutique.

"My, what have I done for my son to come visit me at work?" his mother greeted him. "As if I don't come in here every other week, mother," Rhys replied, kissing the woman's cheek.

Hilda was finishing putting together a sleeve for the soft white dress on a stand behind her. "It's Morrigan's. I thought she would love a dress for Solstice day. Do you like it?"

"It will be perfect on her, your skills amaze me every time," he confessed, "what about that one, though? What is it made of?" A fine dress of the palest blue caught his eyes, shining in the low light from the ceiling, the trail pooled as a lake of stars. What kind of fabric was even that? "Feyre's dress. Oh, don't be so surprised, honey. She needed it after all she went through."

He sighed. "What happened to her, exactly? Morrigan threatened to kill me when I mentioned I wanted to ask Feyre about it." "Well…," Hilda hesitated. It wasn't like her and an angry calm set over him. What happened to the young woman? "Back in June she came in here looking for a dress. She and Mor recognized each other and an argument started between Feyre and the Miss who accompanied her. Someone sent word that a dress was no more needed and your cousin didn't see her again since Feyre showed up at her apartment and asked if she could move in. She was engaged, you see, had some arguments with her betrothed because of the other woman and called off the engagement."

Why wasn't Rhys aware of any of this? He picked out the phone but a gentle hand caressed his shoulder, the other taking away the phone. "You are trembling, Rhysand. Sit here. Sit."

"How can I help her, mom?"

"Be there for her. Support her but don't bring it up if she doesn't. " He sat there in silence for long enough that he was startled when Hilda sent him home. "Is this the only way?" he asked, getting up from the stool and pressing the second gift —a brooch of a Solstice flower made of rubies and diamonds— into her hand.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

Feyre was glad that Azriel and Cassian drived Mor and her back to Mor's apartment. What she didn't expect was for Tamlin to stand in front of it. Arguing with Rhysand.

“Give her back now, Rhysand. You won’t be enough for her anyway.” yelled Tamlin. “Oh really?” he turned towards the group, “And here I thought that she ran away to me because of my beautiful face and because she’s not an object.” The smirk he gave Feyre turned her from white pale to tomato red in less than a second. How could Tamlin still try to take her back? She broke every tie she had to her family, her father’s debt aside. He should respect her decision and yet he didn’t. It was at that moment that she noticed the open door between the two men and the chaos inside.

She felt her anger rise. Did Tamlin look for her inside? “Why are you here, Tamlin? I’m not coming back.” Anger and frustration filled her head as she walked toward the males. “I won’t be your wife. Go marry Ianthe instead, after all she has warmed your bed since we got engaged.” She sided with Rhysand, his steady warmth and scent anchored her. She looked toward Rhys’ face. “He actually has a beautiful face.”

Tamlin launched himself toward Feyre to grab her but Rhysand was faster. He circled her shoulders and pulled her away, while Azriel and Cassian pulled a yelling Tamlin toward the exit of the building. Her heart thundered. What had just happened?

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Rhys was calling her but she couldn’t look at him. Tamlin had just- “Look at me, Feyre darling. Good girl, like that. We’ll go for another trip just the two of us, okay?” Rhysand’s blue eyes were almost violet with the Solstice lights in the hallway. She fell in love all those months ago with how they seemed to shine just for her. She fell in love with how caring he was even without knowing what happened. Feyre nodded and Rhysand escorted her to his car.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

Four days later they reached the destination. The log cabin Rhysand drove her to was in the middle of the highest mountains in Prythian. It faced a wide lake with a few other houses here and there, a thick layer of snow covering everything in sight, brightly lit by the sun. Peace and quiet reached her ears.. together with Rhys’ pants and grunts. Why was he even doing those sounds? They make her feel so tense and weak at the same time. She turned from the landscape to find Rhys pushing her luggage inside. A huff escaped from her lips as she walked to him, helping with pulling their luggages over the wooden porch.

“And this is why Mor was expelled from the common room the third year of college” finished Feyre drinking some wine in front of the fire. The rooms were full of wood and light colors, with a big hearth in the living room. She had propped her legs up on the sofa, a soft blanket over her, while Rhysand was in front of her on the same sofa. He was laughing at the stories she shared with his cousin, only once they talked about Tamlin and decided he wasn’t worth the thoughts. His brothers were already taking care of his charges anyway, so all she had to do at the moment was relax. And wine always made her relax.

“You know,” she braved to tell him, “I actually like you, Rhysand.”

He swung his wine once, twice. “It's Rhys. And do you, now?”

“I do.” She gulped. “I started liking you the day you brought me to a dance lesson instead of Mor,” Feyre laughed. “I didn’t know I danced so badly with Tamlin.”

Rhys was silent for a second. “He knew that you are a treasure, Feyre darling. Every man you will choose to settle down with has better to acknowledge it, or I’ll be the one to teach him.”

The blush on her cheek wasn’t from her drink. “Well, you already know it”. Rhysand sat up and leaned over her. Then he started brushing her hair. It was so normal but she felt like a starving woman anyway. She'd been since that day in September. “What is it that you want, darling?” she got up on her elbows. She could feel his warm breath against her lips, mere inches apart. She met his gaze and raised a hand against his face. She felt alive again as they danced like the first time. “You.”

The kiss was hungry and sweet, soft but demanding. Their lips tasted like the finest wine they were drinking. Rhysand felt Feyre melt under his love and he couldn't believe that he would find someone who loved him this much. He had lovers but he never felt like changing into a better person with them. Feyre moaned in his mouth and it was his undoing. Rhys got up and scooped her up in his arms. In what seemed to be a second, he was at the top of the stairs with Feyre on his lips. In his room there were already dim lights on. Feyre broke the kiss long enough to examine the bedroom and laughed.

"What? Not in a Solstice mood?"

"Oh no, who wouldn't love to have sex on a four-poster bed covered in cotton balls and yellow Solstice lights?"

He grinned, "That's the spirit, darling". Rhysand put her down and slowly, oh so slowly, proceeded to undress her from the pullover, then her shirt. The leggings were the last he pulled away. Feyre was left with her little red lacy underwear in front of Rhysand, who knelt before her. Feyre averted her eyes. How was it possible that she loved the man like this? How was it possible that he loved her enough to kneel at the sight of her? It was in that moment that he entangled fingers with hers. "Are you sure of this, love?"

"I am. Only, how can you love me when I called you a prick? What if you leave me, too?" "I'm not him, Feyre. I won't leave you" confirmed Rhysand. "And I've been called worse, don't worry. Let me show you how much I love you." She smiled laying on the bed: of course he had to be right every time. Rhys undressed quickly, coming on top of her. He kissed her lips, sucked her neck. His hands roamed from her fingers to her peaked breasts, circling around the top of one to the top of the other. Feyre arched her back and Rhysand sneaked a hand beneath it to unclasp the lacy bra. He kissed his way to the peaks and Feyre felt her belly melting and tightening at the same time.

"What is it that you want, love? Do you want me to kiss every inch of you?" He showed her how under her breast. "Do you want me to suck? Or maybe you just want me to touch you." A whisper with no sound left her lips. He kept licking and massaging down, down, all the way down to her core where he didn’t stop once. He enjoyed what he was doing but looking at him worshipping her center with his tongue was a sight she knew she wanted to paint. A warm sensation started to build in her head and she couldn’t think straight anymore.

“Rhysand…”

“Don’t call me like that”, his teeth scraped the interior of her thigh. “Try again, sweetheart.” This man. She was going to let him pay. Later.

“Rhys, please”. His tongue came back against her folds and she arched as he murmured praises for her bedroom manners. He was building Feyre up so much that she was almost at the end as Rhysand withdrew from her sight. “What. What are. You doing, Rhys?” She couldn’t think, could breath fast enough. “I’m getting ready for you, my love” and as soon as he said this, Feyre found him next to her on the bed, a condom on his dick. Between the soft mattres, the cotton balls and the strings of fairy lights, Rhysand looked like a fairy king out of her favorite stories. “Come up here”, Rhys ordered patting his thigh. Feyre did as he wanted, sitting right upon his member. But she had never been good at following orders without a little ‘Feyre-twist’ and that day it wasn’t any different.

She shifted, starting to kiss and suck Rhysand’s neck as he first did, her heands learning about tatoos and muscles she didn’t even know existed. She reached between his legs and began pumping. “Fuck, Fey. There, like this. You’re wonderful” He praised her again, his hands on her hips and trying to thrust into her. “Not like that, dear,” she purred into his ear, “let me show you how to do it properly.” With a grin on her face she moved him to her folds where Feyre created a new rhythm before getting down on his member. She felt her body stretch and adapt as soon as his head entered, a new rush of hot temperature creating again a fog in Feyre’s head. She took it all in before she began moving again. “You fill me perfectly, Rhys. Can you feel how much I want you?” He merely nodded, eyes heavy with pleasure. “Then don’t stop. You’re so good, please don’t stop. I-I love you too, Rhys”. They kept moving and praising each other until they broke at last.

Both panting, they hugged each other for a few minutes before taking a quick shower -it may or may not have included more kissing and asks about being a couple- and falling asleep hugging each other.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

Rhysand woke up before dawn between the arms of the most beautiful woman he ever saw. He traced her face with a light finger before casting a chaste kiss on her lips and leaving the bed.

⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕ ⁕⁂♥⸙♥⁂⁕

Feyre woke up in an empty bed and felt as if everything had been only a dream. She put up the clothes Rhys had brought in the morning before and headed downstairs. She expected a few scenarios but not her new boyfriend mumbling Solstice songs under his breath while being submerged in coffee and biscuits and pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup. With his good trousers on. Only with the good trousers on. “Happy Solstice, Feyre darling!” He told her with the widest smile ever before twirling her around and kissing her. They were both laughing at the end of it.

“Happy Solstice, dear! Tell me now: did you cook all this?”

“Of course I did. I couldn’t let my girlfriend starve on the longest night of the year, could I? Now then, grab that bag and go change.”

The dress was stunning. It looked like it was crafted out of snow and light. “Where did you buy this dress?”

“That? Oh, my mother did it,” he answered before turning. His jaw dropped in a perfect O as soon as she saw her. Hair braided and barefoot in a dress of small pale gems, she felt crafted for it. “My-my mother has a boutique, the one where you met Mor back in June. This cabin is also hers.” He put a few plates on a table in front of the biggest window. The view showed the rising sun in a clear sky, over the frozen lake in a snowy landscape. Feyre made a mental note to recreate the landscape as soon as she was back, together with the previous night’s image.

She sat at the table. “You know Rhys, I wouldn’t mind being reintroduced to your mother and thank her for the dress.” Rhysand laughed “She already loves you, darling.”

#acotar gift exchange 2022 #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #feysand #feyre x rhysand #pro feysand #acotar morrigan #modern au

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ircnwrought · 9 months

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I HATE YOU BUT I JUST DID SOMETHING TO HELP YOU

you clearly needed help. // @manupropria (rhys) to feyre !!

__________🏹 HER GAZE IS AS UNFORGIVING AS IT IS EXASPERATED. the ghastly white tulle not only threatens to drown her in the unneccessary layers, but it washes her out, highlighting the sleepless circles under her eyes && the paleness of her lips. she does not want to think about her rejection that had been on the tip of her tongue or the way the red petals looked like blood upon the ground. a rage bubbles in her chest, at herself, at him, at ianthe, at tamlin, at the whole damn world. she extinguishes it as fast as it came, dousing it before it can consume her.

🏹__________ SHE IS ALREADY RIPPING OF HER GLOVES, PULLING THE DIADEM FROM HER CURLS. they are discarded at her feet && she wants nothing more than to extract herself from the too tight dress. it reveals her thinness && she feels as though she cannot breathe. ❛ i did not need your help !! you chose today of all days to call in your gods-damned bargain ?? my wedding day ?? ❜ hands are shaking, but she cannot decide if it's from her anger or her fear.

#c; feyre archeron #reply; rhysand (manupropria)#manupropria #❛ time in a bottle ❜ ▬ ( answered. )#❛ the huntress finds her mark ❜ ▬ ( feyre archeron meme. )#q #(( sobbing ))

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darklove9314-blog · 2 years

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“What are you doing in here?” A fierce voice whispered jerking Cassian awake as he looked to Mor whose pale blonde hair caught in the moonlight of Nesta’s room or rather the room they had put her in after she had first turned.

Cassian glanced over to Nesta now, watching the rise and fall of her chest. Her form similar yet different.

“What are you doing here?” He asked readjusting himself careful to avoid his wings. Madja had told him that it may take weeks if not months for them to heal. And had even advised him to not go anywhere except the townhouse for the next couple of weeks. But Cassian was never good at following instructions.

“Rhys wanted someone here when they woke up. And seeing as how both you and Az were injured, Feyre is in spring, and Rhys is a total mess, I figured I would be the best person for the job. Now I ask again what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting, not in this house waiting for her to wake up.”

Cassian looked to Nesta again, taking in the rise and fall of her chest and the pounding of her heart. He forced himself to look away when he addressed Mor.

“She’ll need someone here when she wakes up.” Cassian told her.

“I’m here, you don’t need to worry about-“

“She doesn’t know you.” Cassian snapped, Mor looking at him in surprise at first before her face settled in annoyance.

“She doesn’t know you either. You just barely met her nearly a month ago and have had a handful of interactions. None of us really know her. The only two people that do are her sisters and they can’t help her right now.”

“Which is why I’m here. You may not think so, but I know her more than you do. I’ve-“ He snapped his mouth shut careful not to say anything about that time at her fathers house. The time he had brushed a kiss over her neck. How her body leaned into his before she realized who was making her feel that way in the first place. He could never tell a soul about that, because telling another person would make what Cassian had suspected about them even more real and he didn’t think he was ready for that. They both weren’t.

“Do you think I’m that much of a fool? Do you think I don’t know what’s going on between you two?”

Cassian narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Even if you did, it’s none of your business.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Then stop pretending. You can’t change what happened to her or her sister. None of us can. What happened, happened and it was awful, but you can’t blame yourself for what happened to her. You had no part in it.”

Cassian felt his temper flare. “She died because of us. Her body was violated because of us. She-“

“She died because of Hybern!” Mor snapped, her head snapping to Nesta, but she remained asleep.

She took a deep breath before looking back to Cassian.

“I refuse to let you blame yourself or any of us for this. Ianthe sold them out, Hybern used them to make a point…”

“And we were the ones who paved the path for them to do so.” Cassian snapped back. “We got them involved, because we needed a place to meet those God damned queens. We didn’t have to involve them, but we did, we may not have betrayed them, we may not have put them in that cauldron, but we still played our part in the reason why they suffered.”

“Cassian, it’s not that-“

“I felt her die.” Cassian blurted out making Mor’s eyes widen. Her eyes glanced over to Nesta who had started to make noises in her sleep. Nightmares. Cassian knew them all too well.

“That’s not-“ Mor trailed off before looking in between them. Truth. Her power was the truth.

“You’re mates.” Was all she said. There was no question in her voice.

Cassian leaned back on the chair, his eyes flickering to the ceiling.

“It was like every horrible thing I have ever done had come back to haunt me in those torturous moments. Yes I saved my brother from a fatal blow that may have killed him, but it came at a cost. “ He looked at his wings and then back to Nesta who tossed and turned in her sleep, kicking at her blankets. Mor had given her a night gown and had possibly discarded the one from the cauldron. He shuddered at the thought.

“I thought that the worst possible thing that could happen to me was what happened with my wings, but this-this is far worse. I would rather feel my wings torn to shreds a thousand times then to feel the pain of her dying again. She was in danger Mor, and there was nothing I could have done to stop it.”

Cassian’s gaze focused on Nesta, on that horrible encounter.

“I heard her screams, I felt the pull of the bond, her panic, and then the worst thing happened...I heard her heart stop beating and when it started to again, that’s when I knew that I failed her. That we all failed her. And there’s no coming back from that.”

Before Mor could even considering answering, deep sobs wretched from Nesta’s mouth, her body shaking violently as Cassian sprung to action.

“Nesta.” Cassian said moving closer to her.

“No.” She moaned out, her nails digging into her palms. “Get-Get away from me.”

“Nesta, it’s alright. You’re safe now, you’re-”

Her sobs grew louder as she thrashed around in the bed clutching onto the sheets as if they were a life line. A scream tore from Nesta’s throat, shattering Cassian’s heart as he didn’t think, he just moved.

“Cassian...don’t-” Mor warned but he wasn’t listening not when every scream that came from Nesta broke his heart.

“Nesta! Nesta!” Cassian shouted grasping onto her, careful not to hurt her. He had to find a way to wake her up.

Her hands went to his chest, shoving at him, her sobs and cries wounding him like a thousand blades. He touched her face, her eyes flying open as she tried to catch her breath taking in the room. Her eyes bewildered, lighting up like silver flames.

“Wh-What are you doing in here?” Nesta snapped shoving him away and pulling the sheets above her torso covering herself.

“You-You were having a nightmare.” Cassian explained to her, trying to remind himself that she was hurt. That she had went through hell in that cauldron, no matter how much her pushing him away had hurt. He understood why.

Sher had woke up with him holding her in his arms after she had recently been attacked. He swore he still saw the bruises that had formed on her arms from where the guards had held her down.

“So you decided to climb into my bed to wake me up? What the hell is wrong with you?” She snapped.

“He was just trying to help.” Mor interrupted, Nesta’s head wiped over to her.

“Why the hell is everyone here? Where-This isn’t my home. Where are we?” She asked looking at both of them.

“We’re in The House of Wind.” Cassian told her, she gave him a confused look.

“The House of What? You know what, never mind. Where are my sisters?” She asked pulling her knees up to her chest. The gesture so human that if it wasn’t for her pointed ears Cassian would assume she still was one.

“You-You don’t remember?” Cassian asked as Nesta’s haunting gaze flickered over to him, narrowing. Good. Her fire was still there. He just had to keep it that way.

“I’m sorry after everything that’s happened to me in the past few hours, a lot of things are-foggy. Everything happened so fast. just-Where is Feyre?”

Cassian and Mor spared a glance at each other before Cassian answered Nesta hoping that he would be able to do this.

“Feyre is gone. Tamlin took her to the Spring Court.” Cassian admitted to her making Nesta’s eyes go wide and making her sit straight up, her chest rising and falling as she looked around the room.

“No-That-She wouldn’t go to him- She wouldn’t even go near him. Why-” Her grey blue eyes swung to Mor. “Why would you let her do that? Why would Rhys let her-” She paused springing off the bed, fumbling slightly due to her new legs, and going to the dresser , pulling it open. Mor and Cassian went on full alert as Nesta yanked a cloak from it and threw it over her shoulders.

“Nesta? What are you doing?” Mor asked as Cassian made his way to Nesta.

She whirled on him, her face burning with anger. Anger that he had never seen.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to get my sister back from that monster.” Nesta spat taking one step as she tripped over her Nes limbs and Cassian caught her. She hissed, but Mor was already on it.

“Nesta, she chose to go with Tamlin. She chose to go there as Rhys’s spy so she can see how affiliated Tamlin is with Hybern.”

Nesta’s gaze narrowed, her face scrunching up, she stepped out of Cassian’s embrace. He felt the loss of her in an instant. The bond crying out, trying to sing to her to come back to him. She felt it, her gaze focusing on him, on his torn wings. Before looking away.

“Where is Elain?“ She asked, avoiding, she was trying to avoid what was happening to her.

“Nesta, I don’t think it’s such a good idea to-“ Cassian started, but his gaze burned into him.

“I need to see her, she must be going through hell.” Nesta told him, but he was curious what she was going through. The change wouldn’t be easy on her either. She even avoided glancing at the mirror to see her ears. Her new body.

“I can take you to her.” Cassian told her. Her gaze softening slightly, but still held every bit of steel that he was used to by her.

“I don’t need you to escort-“

“You can barely walk.” He stated, cutting her off. He didn’t want to do it, but the way she had been struggling. It would take her a while to get used to her new limbs. To this body that wasn’t entirely hers.

“Well, I have to get used to this new body at some point, so I’ll just go to her. No matter how long it takes me to get there.” She said moving slowly as Cassian followed her. Mor holding her breath to see what happened.

Nesta fumbled slightly getting to the door, a look of frustration on her face, her hand pressed firmly to the door, her forehead pressing to it. Her breaths coming in and out. Cassian dared to take a step closer.

“Nesta.” He breathed.

“Leave me alone.” She snapped.

“Nesta.” He tried again reaching out towards her, his hand about to land on her shoulder when he heard the “ Don’t!” Before he was hit with an unforeseen power and grunted as he hit the wall, Nesta’s eyes growing wide. A look of fear crossing her face as Mor stiffened, now on full alert.

“I-I didn’t mean to-“ Nesta stated looking down at her hands staring at them as if they were her worst nightmare.

She took a step towards Cassian as Mor stepped in between them. Cassian groaned slightly. But stood up shooting a look to Mor to back down.

“I think your powers are coming to the front.” Cassian said making Nesta look up at him, horrified,

“What the hell are you talking about?” Nesta asked.

“Most fae-“

“I’m not fae.” Nesta snapped, making Cassian pause. Denial. She was in denial. He didn’t blame her. Not after what she had just been through,

“Cassian, perhaps now isn’t a good time for her to hear this.” Mor suggested making Nesta cut cold eyes at her.

“Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here. And don’t suggest that you know what I can and can’t handle.” Nesta turned back to him. “What do you mean powers?”

“Nesta, I know this is hard, but you’re fae now, and most fae have powers and abilities.”

Nesta looked to the floor, pressing her hand to her temple.

“I can’t believe this.” She muttered.

“Nesta, I know this is hard, but I promise you, we’ll get through this together. You won’t be alone in-“

“Leave me alone. I want to be alone.” She stated going towards the window as Mor’s hand wrapped around Cassian’s arm. Before she turned back to Nesta.

“I can take you.” Nesta looked to Mor, “To Elain, I can take you to her. She’ll need you just as much as you need her. I promise I’ll leave you two alone as soon as I help you there.”

Nesta glanced around, contemplating.

“I’d like that. Thank you Morrigan,” she stated as Mor looked as Cassian, her look promising that she would take care of Nesta as she escorted Nesta to Elain’s room leaving him alone

(Thanks for reading everyone!!! If you want more ACOWAR Cassian set during the time Feyre was in the Spring Court please let me know)

#nesta archeron #nessian #nesta #cassian #acosf #a court of silver flames #acosf spoilers #nessian fanfiction #fanfiction #nessian fanfic

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snelbz · 4 years

Text

Lost Time {13}

A/N: Another chapter with the love of my life, @tacmc. Enjoy!

Azriel forgot how small his studio apartment was. Even from the outside, the damn thing looked like a storage closet. With a sigh, he pushed open the door of his little, black sports car from where he parked on the street and stepped out onto the pavement, where horns were honking and people were hurrying across the sidewalks. He nearly ran into two different people from the time he exited his car to the time he made it to his building’s main door.

He hurried up three flights of stairs, dug his key out of his backpack, and wandered into his apartment. It was quiet, and he had very few belongings that actually meant anything to him. Yet, he thought it was necessary to tie up his loose ends and grab his belongings before he went back to Velaris.

To Elain, and his son.

For good.

The thought alone made him smile.

At first, he hadn’t wanted to leave them, even for a day. The decision to go nearly broke him, and that’s how he knew, undoubtedly, that his home was with Elain.

With a sigh, he strolled through the tiny apartment and looked around at what he needed to take, and what could just be tossed.

And he realized that aside from his gear, his lenses and bodies and laptops, and some clothes he really did like, he could have left all of this behind.

There was a buzzing at his door about an hour after he finished boxing up the few belongings he decided to return with him. The following day would be creating three piles: one to keep, one to sell, and one to donate. The things he’d be keeping would make their way down in a box truck at some point in the next few weeks, by someone that wasn’t himself. He couldn’t imagine being away from Elain for that long, not since he’d gotten her back into his life. And to be from Donovan that long…

Azriel couldn't even bear the thought.

He made his way to the door, stepping over the small piles of things he’d already begun accumulating. He pressed his finger against the button and asked, “Hello?”

A female voice replied, “I thought that was your Benz out front. Let me in.”

Azriel released the button and sighed, dragging his hands down his face. He was really hoping the two days between his flight landing at LaGuardia and taking off once more, she wouldn’t find out he was here. But luck clearly wasn’t in his favor.

With a sigh, Azriel unlocked the outer door with loud buzz! and glanced at the clock in the small kitchen. It was nearly five in the afternoon, and he was expecting a call from Elain at five-fifteen. He was hoping to have this conversation once he was back in Velaris for good. Instead, it seemed it was he was going to have it in person, and he was going to have it now.

Two quick knocks came from the door and he took a deep breath before he opened it, finding a beautiful woman with blonde hair leaning on the frame.

“Azzie,” she cooed, stepping forward and throwing her arms around his neck. If he hadn’t turned his face away from hers, her lips would’ve been pressed firmly against his.

She frowned, her hands still dangling behind his neck. “What? You leave for a ridiculously long time, don’t tell me when you get back home, and now I can’t kiss you?”

Azriel’s entire body was tense, his arms hanging limply at his sides. “Ianthe-.”

“Oh, no,” she said, pushing past him into his apartment. “You don’t use that tone with me- what’s with all the boxes?”

Azriel remained in his doorway. “I’m going back home.”

Her shoulders tensed as she slowly turned around to meet his uncomfortable gaze. Ianthe asked, “What the fuck?”

Azriel closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He knew when he got into with Ianthe that she was a stuck-up, pain-in-the-ass woman. They’d met on a shoot, her being one of the models on set, and she’d immediately found interest in him. Azriel, being the lonely, sad ass he was, had flirted back and taken her back with him on multiple occasions. She had been the only woman that Azriel had slept with since he left Velaris all those years ago.

He hated her with every ounce of his being.

“I’m going back home,” he said, shutting the door behind him and sitting on the arm of the chair in the small apartment’s foyer/living room/dining room.

“You are home,” Ianthe said, lifting her hands and gesturing to the apartment around them. “I’ve told you, if you don’t like it here anymore, you can move in with me. Manhattan is-.”

“Ianthe,” Azriel sighed, interrupting her and crossing his arms across his chest. “You knew this wasn’t going to last. You know what this was.”

“No, you’re just hung up on your stupid ex,” she snapped, walking towards him. She dragged her fingers up his thigh and he caught her hand, pushing it away.

This woman frustrated him to no end. She was spoiled and vain and so materialistic that the first time he’d brought her home with him, he was inside of her, minutes from finishing, and she’d asked what the thread count of his sheets were.

Azriel stood, trying to put distance between them. “She isn’t my ex anymore, and she’s never just been that. Elain is the love of my life and-.” He hesitated, but he didn’t want anyone to ever accuse him of being ashamed of Donovan. “And I have a son, Ianthe. I need to be there for him.”

“Bullshit,” she spit, advancing on him and pulling his shirt from where it was tucked into her pants. “You’ll need to lie better than that to get rid of me. You’ve only been gone for two months. There’s no way you have a baby, much less know that it’s a boy if she was pregnant.” His back hit the wall and she popped the button on his jeans, reaching her hand in and palming him.

God damn his dick for getting hard whenever it was shown any attention because Ianthe’s turquoise eyes sparkled. “See? He still wants me.”

Azriel took a deep breath and said, “Get your hands off of me.”

She stroked him, softly, her tongue wetting her lips as she did so, but she didn’t get much further because Azriel pushed her back. She stumbled over her four-inch heels and nearly fell, which caused Azriel to be met with the fury of the tall, slender blonde.

He had hardly registered her coming toward him as her flat palm met his cheek. A ringing in his ear grew loud as he muttered, “Fuck. Was that necessary?”

“How dare you?” she seethed, and when she reached back to slap him again, he grabbed her wrist.

“I need you to calm down,” he said, his fingers tightening around her wrist as she tried to fight him. He was about to tell her to get out, but then her knee came up and caught him right between his legs.

Azriel groaned, his hand instantly falling away from her wrist as he fell to the ground in searing pain. He mourned for his balls as his knees hit the ground.

“Nobody dumps me,” she snapped, just as she grabbed a lamp off his side table and hurled it at him.

It missed him, but only by a few inches, before the glass base shattered on the wall above him. His balls were throbbing a little less as his head snapped up to her. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He didn’t mind. The lamp was hideous, but that was beside the point.

“Fuck you,” she spat.

“Fuck off,” he mumbled, climbing to his feet. Much louder, he looked at her and pointed to the door. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Gladly,” she said, turning on her four-inch platform heels and walking out. She slammed the door behind her and Azriel let his hands rest on his knees as he leaned over and groaned. He cupped his groin and fell into the closest seat, which happened to be his kitchen table.

He blindly reached for his laptop, opening it and signing into the airline he’d be flying with. Another thirty-six hours in this city was far too long for him.

After changing his flight to one tomorrow afternoon, he set to sorting through all of his shit. He didn’t have much, so it wouldn’t make a difference anyways. When his phone rang, he nearly moaned as he answered it.

“Fuck, I miss you.”

“Aw.” Elain’s chipper voice came through the line. “Will you always answer the phone like that?”

Azriel huffed a laugh. “Don’t know, I might change it up from time to time.”

Elain’s laughter had his heart growing lighter. “It’s good to hear your voice. I feel like you’ve been gone much longer than you have. Today has felt like weeks.”

She had brought him to the airport early that morning, and he agreed - it felt like much, much longer. They had spent every day together, falling more and more in love by the second.

“I know,” Azriel said, quietly. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” she said, and he knew by her tone that she wore the slightest shade of pink on her pale cheeks. “What have you been doing?”

Azriel hesitated, thinking it best to ignore the whole Ianthe situation. “Packing, and throwing shit out that I don’t like or need, which is...most things.” He figured Ianthe fit in that category, so it wasn’t a lie.

“I should have come with you. You’ve never been hood at gauging what should be kept and what should be thrown away,” she laughed. He looked around his studio and knew that she was absolutely right. He wouldn’t tell her that though.

“No, you needed to be home with our boy,” he said, unable to keep the smile off of his face.

Elain sighed and said, “Our boy, with the help of Uncle Cassian, successfully made the biggest mud puddle in Archeron property history.”

Azriel blinked. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” she said, and he could hear her roll her eyes. “I’m going to be finding dried mud on that kid for the next three years.” He did his best not to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. She said, “I was thinking…”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Azriel said, standing and walking up the stairs to the loft where his bedroom was. He flopped onto his bed.

“Hush, you will this time.” Elain was laughing and Az wished he could capture the sound forever. “Since you’re moving in and everything, I think it might be time to tell Donovan.”

Azriel’s world froze. “To tell him I’m his father?”

There was a slight pause, but Azriel knew she was smiling when she said, “Of course. Why? Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“What? No,” Azriel said, without any hesitation. “Lainy, I-.” His words dropped off, because no words were good enough to express the joy he was feeling in that moment. Elain let out a breathy laugh as Azriel cleared his throat and said, “Fuck, I’m suddenly nervous as hell.”

“Why?” she asked, obviously amused.

“I don’t know,” he breathed, and there was a moment of silence. “What if- what if he’s disappointed?”

“Az,” she whispered, and it was clear she was taking a break from whatever it was she was doing. “Novan loves you.”

Azriel nodded, although he knew she couldn’t see it. “No, I know. I just...I’m nervous, you know? He loved Lucien, too.”

There was another pause and Elain said, “Az, he never cared for Lucien the way he loves you. I think, deep inside, he already knows who you are. Who you really are.”

Azriel thought back to a night a few weeks before. Sunday evening dinners were still a weekly thing in Miryam’s house, even four years later. After dinner, everyone was sitting out back on the porch talking and Elain told Novan he needed to go inside to lay down.

Without a word, he nodded, and grabbed Azriel’s hand to tug him towards the house. His eyes widened in alarm, but when he looked up at Elain, her own were soft and she nodded.

It was almost second nature to tuck his son into his own childhood bed, to brush his dark hair off his head, and flip on the nightlight.

“Goodnight, buddy,” he whispered, leaning down and pulling the covers up just a hair higher around him.

Right before he cracked the door, he heard a sleepy voice, “G’night, Daddy.”

When he’d turned back to look at his son, tears already running down his cheeks, he was already asleep.

He hoped it wasn’t a fluke, hoped what Elain was saying was true, that deep down, the child knew who his father was. If Donovan was upset by the news, Azriel would be heartbroken, to say the least.

“Yeah,” Azriel said, at last. “I hope so.” He took a deep breath before he said, “Oh, I, uh, got my flight moved up. I’ll be home tomorrow, if you can get me from the airport at four. I leave here at one.”

“Couldn’t stay away from me?” Elain asked, obviously intrigued.

“Nope,” Azriel answered. “One day is too long, two would be excruciating.”

Elain laughed, quietly. “Good. My bed feels empty without you.”

“Oooh,” Azriel crooned, rolling onto his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows. “Is this one of those ‘what are you wearing’ situations? Because, if so...what are you wearing?”

Elain’s laugh was full and his heart ached at the sound of it, not being able to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. “A stained button-down and yoga pants with holes in the knees.”

He only hesitated for a minute before saying, “That’s...hot?”

She laughed again and said, “I found an old sewing desk at work today. I brought it home to make into my new special project.”

The love was evident in his voice as he said, “That’s awesome, baby.”

“Yeah, I think it could-. Hold on.” He could hear the phone pull from her ear and she hollered something across the house. “Alright, bath time is over. Your son is ready to get out and he’s not very patient today. Granted, this is his second bath of the day, so…”

Azriel could see the shrug she punctuated the sentence with. “Okay, baby. Tell him goodnight for me?”

“Of course,” she said, and he could hear her voice echoing as she walked up the stairs. “Call me before you go to sleep, okay? Maybe we really can have one of those what are you wearing situations.”

He swallowed hard. “Yes, please.”

She chuckled, but he heard the hint of lust in her voice. “I’ll go ahead and tell you now, it’ll be nothing.”

His response was short and to the point. “Fuck.”

“Goodbye, Az,” she sang and hung up the phone.

He held the phone up to his ear for another few seconds before he dropped it on the blanket beside him. He looked around the practically nearly empty loft before he got up and started tossing things down to their designated boxes. An hour later, the loft was empty, and he was sorting through the kitchen. He decided to donate all of his dinnerware, considering it was either chipped and cracked, although he kept his mug that had a vintage polaroid camera on it.

All while he packed, all he could think about was Novan, about how the little man would react when he discovered that Azriel was his father. He also kept thinking about Elain, and their what are you wearing phone call that would be occuring in the next few hours. He also thought about the next day, when he’d be able to take her into his arms and put his lips on hers.

One day apart was far too long.

He was ready to go home.

Back to Velaris, his love, and his son.

——————

Novan was humming quietly from the backseat, kicking his feet, while they waited. As Elain glanced in her rear view mirror to look at him, she was once again floored by how much he looked like his father.

Especially as he fiddled with the camera that looked massive in his tiny hands. “What are we doing, mama?”

She looked back out the windshield, waiting as people filed by with their suitcases, hugging and kissing and crying. “I’ve got a surprise for you, buddy?”

He looked up, hazel eyes wide as he asked, “Is Spider-Man here?”

She chuckled as she saw Azriel walking towards the car and said, “No, but I promise this is just as good.”

The back door opened on the opposite side of Donovan and he said, “Az, you’re back!”

The grin on both of their faces made Elain’s heart feel like it was about to explode.

“Hey, buddy,” Azriel laughed, as Novan flung himself into Azriel’s arms.

“You were gone too long,” Novan said. “I missed you. Mama missed you, too.”

“Is that so?” Azriel asked, looking up to Elain. He didn’t need the answer, though. Their what are you wearing conversation the night before had proved they were both missing each other, significantly.

“It’s true, I’m afraid,” Elain said, shaking her head, unable to stop her spreading grin.

“Hmm,” Azriel hummed, looking back to Novan. “Maybe I should make it up to you with ice cream, then.”

“Ice cream!” Novan yelled, and Azriel laughed as he opened the trunk and tossed his backpack inside. Then, he was falling into the passenger side of the car and leaning across the middle console to press his mouth to Elain’s.

“Hi,” he breathed.

“Hi,” Elain whispered.

“Gross,” Novan announced, looking back at the camera in his hands. “No kissing.”

“You gonna stop me?” Az laughed, looking back at the miniature version of himself.

Donovan giggled and hid behind the camera, as Elain rolled her eyes and put the car in gear. She asked how his flight was and they discussed what all he had to take care of now that he was based in Velaris for good.

“Mama says you’re gonna live with us, Az,” Novan said from the back seat.

Azriel looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “I thought we were gonna tell him together.”

“We were,” Elain said, eyes wide. “I didn’t tell him yet,” she promised.

“I heard you telling Aunt Nes,” he clarified.

Azriel swore quietly and Elain’s eyes snapped to him. “Sorry. You told Nesta?”

“Yes,” she admitted, “on the phone yesterday morning, after I dropped you off. Someone,” she said, looking at Novan in the rear view mirror, “was supposed to be taking a nap upstairs while mommy was making lunch.”

“I forgot my camera,” he shrugged. His R in camera was as bad as his R in Azriel and it was the cutest fucking thing Az had ever seen.

“You don’t need your camera to take a nap,” Elain explained.

Azriel looked at her as if to say There are plenty of ways we could use my camera during a nap.

He watched as her cheeks darkened and he cleared his throat. Instead, he asked, “You didn’t happen to mention any other news to Nesta during that phone call, did you?”

“No,” Elain sighed, and reached over to take his hand. “That news is just for us, for now.”

Novan was oblivious in the backseat, fiddling with the camera.

“Good,” Azriel breathed. “I don’t need another reason for Nesta to slap me the second I get off a plane. Not again.”

Elain chuckled. “Don’t get that into your mind just yet, she just might. She’ll be coming with Cass to help move you in, along with our new furniture.”

Elain had been wanting to get new furniture anyways. The fact that Azriel was moving in was her excuse to get the king sized bed and the bigger dresser she’d been wanting.

“Our new bed arrives from IKEA today, along with our dresser and a few other things I thought would be nice,” Elain said, her eyes on the road. “The truck with your stuff should be here this afternoon already, too. I may have called the company and asked them to get everything here as soon as possible.”

Azriel raised his brows, fully aware it would have cost much more money to get everything in on rush. “You didn’t have to do that.”

She smiled, although her eyes never left the road. “I just want you moved in as soon as possible. I can’t wait.”

They’d had the conversation a few times already, and each time, they ended up in a fight and fucking each other’s brains out to end said fight. It was a great way to keep from being at each other’s throats, but not very effective for communicating. “I told you I can help, I’m moving in. It’s only fair that I pull my weight.”

Her hand tightened in his. He knew his financial situation was better than hers, but she didn’t know just how much better off it was. She wouldn’t let him tell her. “Az, baby-.”

“No, don’t Az, baby me.” They pulled up at a red light. “It’s only fair. You know I can afford to. You know I want to. Please.”

She gripped his fingers and looked at him. “I’ll try, okay? I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” he breathed and kissed her fingers.

Novan made a sound of disgust from the back seat.

——————

“What the hell does IKEA make their furniture out of?” Rhysand grunted, setting down the boxed kitchen table. “Concrete?”

“Uhm, babe?”

He glanced to where Feyre was putting bar stools together. She was holding a solid slab of concrete with holes left for the legs.

“Is that concrete?” He demanded, gesturing to the table box.

Elain glanced up from where she was unpacking one of Azriel’s few boxes. “No, that’s solid teak.”

He shook his head and left to go carry in another box. “I don’t even know what that means.”

Feyre snorted and set down what she had been holding as Cassian swept into the kitchen, carrying a box. “What the hell is this? It’s heavy as fuck!”

“Can the swearing stop?” Elain asked, exasperated. “I do have a four-year-old somewhere around here.”

Cassian apologized as he set a massive box down on the kitchen floor.

“Oh! That’s our headboard,” Elain said, clapping her hands together. “Oh, I hope it looks as good as it did online. Where’s Nes?”

“Groaning and moaning on the porch,” Cassian muttered.

“She has the right to,” Feyre argued. “She’s pregnant with your demon spawn.” Cassian’s eyes narrowed as he flicked her on the nose.

The door opened, yet again, and Azriel came in, holding a massive box. “Okay, it’s big, but it’s light.”

Elain clapped her hands together, yet again. “Our bedding! And pillows, I’m sure. I ordered oodles of pillows.”

“I feel like you told him which box was the light one,” Cassian muttered, heading back out to the truck.

Azriel shook his head and said, “I watched them unload the truck. I knew which two were the heaviest. And I suggested they get them.”

Feyre nearly passed out, she was laughing so hard.

Quick footsteps descended down the stairs and then the main floor. Then a thud, followed by a cry, came from the hallway leading to the living room. Az was the closest, but Elain was there before he could think about moving. “What happened, buddy?”

His knee was raw where it rubbed against the carpet and his lower lip jutted out as his breathing tried to even out. “I wanted to- to show Az the picture I took.”

His heart felt like it might melt. He was there, scooping up his son and holding him to his chest. “You can show me, no need to run, dude. You know your mom has told you not to.”

Novan nodded and wiped at his face as Az carried him up the stairs. His new bedroom had been the first to be set up.

“Do you like your new bed?” he asked. Elain had ordered him a racecar bed, figuring if she was getting a new bed, it was only fair that he did, too.

Novan nodded, enthusiastically, nearly forgetting about his scraped knee. “It’s awesome. It’s what I took a picture of.”

“Oh yeah?” Azriel asked.

Novan nodded, his arms wrapped around Azriel’s neck. “Yeah!”

“I can’t wait to see,” Azriel said, once they entered his room. Novan squirmed to get down, and the second his little feet hit the carpet, he was running to his new bed, where his camera sat. He brought it to Azriel, showing him the newest picture he took.

The bed was blurry, and everything was completely out of focus, but Azriel grinned, and looked at his son. “That is an amazing picture, bud. I just think I might frame it.”

Novan’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Azriel promised, lifting Novan up to carry him back into the hall and down the stairs. “I think mommy will think so, too.”

As soon as they hit the landing, Novan was squirming and Azriel said, “No running, okay?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Az set him down and he ran out front where Cass and Rhys were unloading the truck. He smiled after him and made his way back to the kitchen where Elain was leaning over the kitchen island, laughing at something her sister had said.

This was right. This was home. This was his family.

And this was where he belonged.

___

Nesta was over it as she sat on Elain’s front porch, watching the boys carry in the endless boxes. At first, she really tried to help, but then, she just got tired. She was pregnant, it was hot, and a nap sounded delightful.

She knew she was being a bitch, too. Even her fiancé stayed away from her.

It didn’t stop Azriel from sitting next to her, though, but she wasn’t surprised.

He sat next to her on the front porch swing, handing her a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade.

“Thanks,” she sighed, instantly sipping from the glass. Groaning, she said, “Shit, that’s good.”

Azriel chuckled, sipping from his own glass. “Mom made it.”

The silence between them was tense and just when Az was about to stand, to leave her alone like everyone else had, she asked, “So you’re really staying?”

He turned to her, and tried to let her see the sincerity in his heart when he said, “I’m not going anywhere. I love Elain. I love Donovan. I can’t imagine life without them.”

She nodded and said, “I can’t see her hurt again, not like she was when she lost you.”

Lost you.

It was the first time Nesta hadn’t intentionally tried to wound him with his mistakes.

“And I won’t let you hurt Novan,” she continued.

He understood. They loved his son regardless of whether or not he was family. He couldn’t be angry at her for loving him, for wanting what was best for him.

“I will never hurt him,” he said. “I can promise you that.”

She smiled, and when it reached her eyes, he was surprised. “I know you won’t.”

Miryam poked her head out the door. “Nes, are you ready to go? Looks like everything is in, just needs to be unpacked.”

Nests blinked. “You mean I get to take a nap?”

Miryam chuckled. “I was thinking you could help me get dinner prepared, but I suppose I’ll let you nap, considering, yes.”

“I’ll help with dinner,” Azriel offered.

Miryam and Nesta both lifted a brow.

Miryam asked, “Since when do you cook?”

Azriel hesitated. “I don’t, I was just trying to be nice.”

Nesta grinned as Miryam rolled her eyes. “How about you go help your brothers put together your bed. They’re struggling.”

Az chuckled and helped Nesta stand. She groaned. “I’m not even four months pregnant. Why do I feel like I’m double that?”

“You sure there’s only one in there?” Both Azriel and Nesta looked up at Miryam. She shrugged. “I’m just saying, we don’t know any of you three’s family history when it comes to things like that.”

Nesta’s eyes went wide. “Oh god, what if he put, like, three babies inside of me?”

“Way to go, mom,” Az mumbled, stepping around her and heading up the stairs. He could hear Cass before he even got the landing.

“Why the heck would they not put the hecking instructions in English? You have to look those up on your phone?!”

He walked in the room and leaned against the dresser. “Cass, your fiancée is having an existential crisis downstairs. She thinks she’s having three babies.”

Cassian dropped the hammer that was in his hand. It landed on the carpet with a thud. “Why does she think that? Three?!”

He shrugged, “Mom said it, I have no clue.”

He was heading for the door. “What does that woman know that I don’t.”

Rhys chuckled and said, “I hope you can read Swedish.”

Azriel scratched at the back of his neck “Would it surprise you if I could?”

His brother stared at him. “Uh, yeah, a little.”

He shrugged and took the instructions. “I visited a lot of places. I’m not fluent, but I can piece it together.”

Fifteen minutes later, they had a whole bed.

Miryam and Nesta had left to head back to their house and Rhys and Cass would be following behind with the moving truck. Feyre was the only one left and she hugged Elain goodbye as Azriel watched from the porch. With a wave, she was gone and it was just the two of them. Three of them, if they counted the little man up in his room taking pictures of his new furniture.

As she made her way up the stairs, she said,

“Welcome home.”

“Home,” he repeated. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” she smiled. “Let’s get started on dinner, yeah?”

Azriel hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist as she met him in front of the screen door. “What’s for dinner?”

Elain shrugged as she fell into him, his chin resting on the top of her head. “Let’s go rummage through the kitchen.”

They did so, finding a handful of things that may not have gone together, but sounded delicious, nonetheless. Pasta salad, chicken nuggets, a medley of frozen veggies, and some of Miryam’s homemade applesauce that she had brought to Elain the night before, when Azriel was gone.

Azriel lived for that applesauce.

Five minutes later, Azriel’s mouth had found Elain’s as she sat on the countertop while the chicken nuggets cooked. But then little footsteps were approaching and a loud, “Ew, seriously?” filled the silence.

Elain turned and looked at him. “You know one day, you’re going to want to kiss someone as much as we do.”

He shook his head. “Girls are gross.”

She chuckled and said, “Fair enough,” before hopping off the counter. She picked him up and set him down where she’d just been sitting and he excitedly turned his camera around. “Mama, look at these.”

Azriel wrapped his arms around Elain’s waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as they looked through the blurry pictures their son took of their home. Novan said, “Look, this one- this one is my favorite.”

It was an out-of-focus shot of their family gathered in the living room. It was clearly taken from the top of the stairs, but he proclaimed. “All my favorite people!” He named everyone off, pointing to everyone, including Azriel, in the middle of everyone.

“These are great, bud,” Elain smiled and ruffled his hair.

He smiled but when he looked up at Azriel, his eyes sparkled. “Do you like them, Az?”

Azriel has to blink a few times to push back the tears that threatened to spill over. His heart was so full of love, so full of pride, that he felt like it was going to burst. “I love them.”

The grin he received was the greatest thing he’d ever seen.

Elain leaned down, her face even with his, and she asked, “How about after dinner, we stay up late and watch a movie?”

He threw his little hands in the air and Azriel was thankful for the neck strap that held the camera in place on his lap. “Yeah!”

She chuckled. “Go wash up and put your camera up and by the time you get back, dinner will be ready, okay?”

He nodded. “‘Kay, mama.”

Elain smiled softly at him and said, “Alright, give me a kiss.”

Novan held her face in his chubby hands and kissed her before carefully hopping down and running up the stairs.

Azriel watched him hurry away before turning to watch Elain, bent over, getting the tray out of the oven. She put the tray on the stovetop and turned around, stilling when she saw his attentive gaze. She raised a brow. “Don’t get any ideas, not yet.”

Azriel grinned. “I always have ideas, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She narrowed her eyes but kissed him, nonetheless, before getting three plates ready and placed around the kitchen table. Azriel pulled out the glasses, filling them each with water, and by the time Novan had come back down the stairs, Elain and Azriel had just been seated. Novan joined them, seated between them both on one side of the table. He clapped his hands as he saw the small pile of chicken nuggets on his plate, and then he was digging in.

Elain warned him to slow down or he may choke, but then Novan pointed out that Azriel was eating just as fast.

Azriel ate obnoxiously slow after that, earning a jab from Elain beneath the table. Afterwards, Azriel cleared the table and did the dishes quickly while Elain helped Novan into his pajamas. By the time Azriel was done and the kitchen was cleaned, Elain and Novan were snuggled together on the couch, a movie having just been selected on the flatscreen t.v. that hung from the wall.

He hurried up the stairs, trading out his black jeans for black sweats and his black Henley for a black tank top and joined them on the couch. He picked Novan up from where he leaned against the arm of the couch and sat down, replacing him on his lap. Novan turned back and looked at him and then turned to Elain.

“Mama, I want tattoos like Azriel’s.”

Elain rolled her eyes and Azriel chuckled. “You can get as many tattoos as you want, just as soon as you turn eighteen,” she said.

He asked, “When’s that?”

She shrugged and said, “About thirteen years, give or take a few months.”

The sigh that left the four-year-old would have put Oscar-nominated actresses to shame. “That’s so far.”

“How about tomorrow?” Azriel asked, as the movie began to play. “Is tomorrow so far?”

Novan sat up straighter. “I can have a tattoo tomorrow?”

“I’ll give you one, a super special one,” Azriel whispered into his ear, and Novan was practically beaming. When he met Elain’s gaze, she had arched a brow.

“Washable tattoos, don’t worry, I’m not going to cover the kid in Sharpie,” Azriel promised, and laid his head down on Elain’s shoulder, taking Novan with him. Elain moved Azriel’s fallen bangs off his forehead before pressing her lips to his skin and snuggling up with her boys as the movie played.

Azriel had expected Novan to start falling asleep, but he stayed up and alert for the entire movie. Azriel had seen Finding Nemo years ago, but he couldn’t stop looking down at Novan for his reactions, even though he was certain the four-year-old only saw a funny fish movie, not a movie about a father who would do absolutely anything for his son.

It was all Azriel could think about, though. It took every ounce of self control to watch the movie instead of blurting out the fact that he was Novan’s dad.

The movie ended and as if on cue, Novan yawned and curled back against Azriel. Elain pressed a kiss to the top of his head and asked, “Are you sleepy, buddy?”

He rubbed his eyes, but said, “Not really.”

“Not really?” She chuckled. “Well then I guess we should turn another movie on until you get sleepy.” He nodded and smiled up at her.

Azriel got up and began flipping through the other movie options, settling on a classic from his own childhood.

As the opening of the Lion King began to play in the background, Elain cleared her throat. “Honey, Az and I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Novan looked up from where he sat between them. His hazel eyes were sleepy, but attentive. “Okay.”

Elain and Azriel looked at each other but when neither of them said a word, Novan frowned. “What?”

“Azriel lives here now with us,” Elain began, but her words fell short, leaving Novan even more confused.

He rolled his eyes. “I know, mommy.”

“Right,” Elain muttered, and Azriel chuckled, which earned him an exasperated glare. “Well, there are a few reasons why Azriel moved in here to live with us.”

“I’m happy he lives with us now, mommy,” Novan beamed.

Her eyes softened. “Me too, because mommy loves him very much, and I wanted to see him every day.”

“That’s why you asked him to live with us?” Novan grinned up at Azriel, who was already watching him in adoration.

Elain nodded. “Yes...That, and because-.” She paused, and took Azriel’s hand in her own before taking a deep breath, and continuing. “And because he’s your daddy.”

“He can be my daddy.” Novan said, climbing into his lap. “I’ve never had a daddy, but I always wanted one.”

“That’s what we’re saying, baby,” Elain brushed his hair back off of his face. “He is your daddy, Novan. Azriel is your father.”

Elain watched as the small pieces clicked into place in Novan’s head. She watched as the intricate puzzle came together and when he finally turned around to look at Azriel, a wide smile on his face, both she and Azriel were crying.

“You’re my daddy?” He asked, looking up at him.

Azriel nodded, slowly. “Yeah, buddy. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.” His voice broke, although he tried to keep his words as steady as possible.

“That’s okay, you’re here now,” Novan whispered, his little arms wrapped around Azriel’s shoulders. “I waited for you.”

Azriel had never felt the amount of love that he felt in that moment, looking into the eyes identical to his own. He nodded, and wrapped his arms around his son. He held Novan close to him as he whispered, “Thank you. I’m so glad you did, because I’m not leaving, okay? I’ll be here forever.”

#lost time #snelbz lost time #snelbz tacmc collab #snelbz x tacmc #snacmc #elriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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epochofbelief · 3 years

Text

Breath Control Chapter Three

sorry about this... Tumblr deleted the first three chapters of my first fanfiction. so i’m reposting them. enjoy haha

THREE

On Saturday night I received a text from Rhys with the address to his place. I clicked the link and found that he lived. . . In my neighborhood. My mouth popped open. Usually swimmers lived in the same area or neighborhood, and the swim team had three “hubs” that swimmers usually gravitated to. I had no idea that Rhys and I lived in the same one. Driving me home that Saturday night must have been a cinch.

That meant it took me five minutes to walk from my townhouse in Astrid Oaks to his townhouse a few streets down. I briefly wondered who his roommate was.

I was halfway there when I got a text from Rhys.

Rhys: We changed our minds. . . We are going to drink. . . You don’t have to, but the whole team is drinking and we’re bowing to peer pressure. Just gonna stay here though. Bring what you have if you want

I read the text and slowed. Then I turned around and headed back to my place. I had a bottle of vodka in the kitchen. I didn’t want to owe Rhys or any of his friends alcohol. In record time, I made it home, took two shots to prepare myself for a night of dealing with new people, and threw the bottle into a backpack. I hadn’t even made it halfway down the street when a familiar looking black truck pulled up next to me.

“Feyre!”

Shit.

I waved and tried to keep walking but the passenger door of Tamlin’s truck opened and he spilled out. That meant he’d already started drinking and was letting one of his friends drive. On the bright side, I hadn’t seen Ianthe at the house and she didn’t seem to be in the truck, either.

“Feyre,” he said again, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he came closer. “Come out with us. Please.”

I made an attempt to walk around him but he gripped my wrist. “Hey. I’ve given you some space--can’t we just forget that night? I made a mistake.”

I wrenched my arm back from him. “I have plans, thanks. Enjoy your night.”

But that wasn’t enough for him. Of course it wasn’t. I took one step before the back door of the trunk pushed open from the inside and Tamlin pushed me in. Strong hands grabbed me from behind and yanked me up and inside.

What the hell? Was this some kind of movie? I certainly was not a damsel in distress.

“Tamlin! What are you doing? Let me out!”

But before I could consider punching him in the face and getting the hell out of there, he climbed in on the other side of me, shut the door, and the truck sped down the street.

I found Bron on the other side of me, grinning fiendishly. Hart was driving. Both very large, very muscular sprinters on the team and Tamlin’s closest friends, besides Lucien. Who didn’t drink. I hadn’t spoken to Lucien for quite a while, actually. . .

Stuck in the car, the vodka starting to make the world just a smidgen fuzzy, it dawned on me that I was in trouble. And I didn’t see a way out. My phone was in my back pocket, but I didn’t want to pull it out and text--who, Rhys? I didn’t need him coming to my rescue again. I couldn’t bother Elain with this. She’d lose it. Nesta was halfway across the country right now. And if Tamlin saw my phone, he’d probably ensure that I didn’t contact anyone.

I was forced to abandon my plans for an escape as Tamlin unzipped my backpack and started rooting around inside of it. Bron and Hart began whooping when he gleefully announced that, “Feyre has more liquor!” and unscrewed the cap. He passed it to Bron, who took a swig, then took it back and drank some himself. I noticed that we were now driving through downtown Prythian. Surely we would stop before too long. . .

But Hart passed the bars, passed the turnoff for the neighborhood where swimmers usually partied, and swiftly exited the downtown area. Where were we going?

My resolve to “not panic” began to crumble. . . I needed to get out of this car and away from Tamlin. He wouldn’t try anything too terrible, I knew that much. But he would keep me with him until I could slip away.

Rough hands gripped my face. “Have a drink.” He shoved the bottle of vodka at my face and I ducked my head. I was two shots deep already, and my tolerance wasn’t the highest. I needed a clear mind if I wanted to run whenever the car stopped.

“No, thanks.”

“Drink it!” His tone frightened me, and I reluctantly took the bottle. Pressing it to my lips, I kept them closed as I tipped the bottle up. That was clearly not enough for Tamlin, who seized my hands and tilted the bottle up. Shocked, I involuntarily took a gulp before wrenching away.

I gagged and he removed the bottle--vodka spilling all down my t-shirt. Shit.

He and Bron laughed, so loud I had to fight to make myself heard. “Where are we going, Tamlin?”

Hart spoke up. “My place! It’s on the edge of town.”

I had no idea where that was. Shit, shit, shit.

Tamlin and Bron continued sharing my vodka, me in between them, and Tamlin gradually moved closer to me. He had just slung his arm around my shoulders, singing along with the country song blasting from the radio, when the car slowed to a stop in the parking lot of a gas station. Hart hopped out to fill up the tank, and I made a wild lunge for the door on Bron’s side, thinking he’d be less inclined to stop me. I didn’t make it far--Tamlin seized my waist and yanked me back down in the seat.

“Don’t leave, Feyreeee,” he said.

“Tamlin. I don’t want to party now. Please just let me get out and go home.”

He thought about it--as much as a drunk 22-year-old could think. “Drink the rest of this vodka and I’ll let you go home.”

I rolled my eyes. Fighting to keep my tone nonchalant, I said as playfully as I could, “I’m serious, Tamlin. What are you getting out of this? I won’t be any fun at the team party anyway.”

“I want you to drink it Feyre. Forget what I did that night. It didn’t mean anything.” He paused and I noticed that his face had paled. “Let’s end this fight.”

Fight? I was under the impression that we were broken up. However, I didn’t think bringing that up now would help my situation. Tamlin was slowly turning from pale to green. His muscular body blocked my way out. I thought that maybe if I did drink a little bit of the vodka, I could get him to drink more as well. He already looked sick. Surely it wouldn’t take much for him to need to puke. In fact, he was starting to sweat now, and I could tell a little more and he’d have to hurl. It was now or never. It would only take Hart so long to fill up with gas.

“Okay. I’ll drink, but only if you do, too,” I said, and slowly took the bottle.

He mustered up an uneasy grin. “Uh… Okay.”

I took a swig, as small as I thought I could get away with, and while he did the same, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and kept it behind me in the seat. If my plan failed, I’d call the cops. Hart was staring at his phone, distracted. Tamlin handed the bottle back, and as I took another shot, he lunged violently sideways, falling heavily out of the truck and onto the sidewalk next to the gas pump. I grabbed my phone and leaped out of the car. I landed feet first in Tamlin’s vomit. He lunged for my ankle and I stumbled, drunk and off balance, dropping the glass bottle of vodka, which shattered all over the pavement. Tamlin released his grip on my ankle and I ricocheted forward. I landed heavily on my hands, glass piercing through one of them painfully.

I didn’t have time to look at the cut before I was up, sprinting back in the direction of town. One glance behind me and I saw that Tamlin was still hurling his guts up in the parking lot, and neither Bron nor Hart were making an effort to chase me. I opened my phone when I thought I’d made it far enough away and saw that I had butt dialed the last person I’d texted.

Rhys.

The call was in progress.

“Uh… hello?” I said, slowing my run to a walk as I stepped onto the brightly lit streets of downtown Prythian. Prythian was a small college town, it’s downtown area full of historical buildings that held boutiques, bars, and restaurants. Families and college students alike strolled down the streets, high off the victory of today’s football game that I had neglected to attend. The bars were already packed and it was only nine o’clock. It would take me a solid twenty to thirty minutes to get to my neighborhood on foot, a little drunk and with a cut hand.

“Oh my god. Feyre. What the hell is going on? Where are you?” Rhysand’s voice exploded from my phone, so deafening I had to move it away from my ear. He sounded--frantic. Odd. Rhysand was usually the picture of sophistication, of unruffled composure. It was almost like he was worried about me.

“Calm down. I’m on Main street, next to Rita’s.” I steeled myself for what I would have to ask of him. “Could you come… pick me up?”

“Yes. Okay. I’m in the car now, I’ll be there in less than ten minutes. Stay there.”

I walked over to a bench a few doors down from Rita’s so I didn’t get caught up in the line to get in. As I sat down, desperately wishing I wasn’t intoxicated in the middle of a college town after daylight hours, the reality of what had just happened flooded in.

I had spent over a year of my life with Tamlin. And he had basically kidnapped me and forced me to drink. I held the wrist of my bleeding right hand with my left, elbows on my knees, and focused on my breathing.

A few minutes went by without event. I started checking my phone to see if Rhysand had texted or called when a voice called out from the line behind me. I hadn’t realized it had grown long enough to extend behind the bench I was sitting on.

“Hey! Come dance!” I looked over my shoulder and found a cute (very drunk) college boy beckoning eagerly from the line. I shook my head and returned my gaze to the ground in front of me, wondering if I should disobey Rhys’s order to stay where I was.

“Fine, I’ll come to you,” the same boy called out from behind me, and I started to panic. I’d had enough drunk college boys to last me a lifetime. I stood, tilting a bit, ready to dash across the street. But then he was there.

Clad in his usual dark attire, his lean swimmer’s body towered above me. “Feyre,” he said softly, easing me backward onto the bench. He kneeled in front of my hand. I was crying again. Why was I always crying in front of this boy?

“Are you okay? What happened?” He spoke so fast, so frantic, I could barely follow what he was saying. “I’m parked across the street. I had to walk around a little to find you. We were getting worried that you hadn’t shown up yet and Mor and I had just decided to walk over to your place when you called. All I heard was someone yelling ‘drink!’ and then something that sounded like gagging? And glass shattering? Mor and I took separate cars to cover a wider range of the downtown area.”

His worry clarified the danger I had been in. My tears fell thick and fast as the story poured out of me. Rhys took my hand while I explained everything. His hands were gentle as he inspected the glass embedded in my palm. I didn’t care to look at my bloody hand and instead focused on his face. As I finished recounting the night’s events, I watched his expression change from one of concern, then to disgust, before it landed on anger.

“We have to report that, Feyre.”

I snatched my hand away. “Like hell are we reporting it. Tamlin probably won’t even remember what happened. I don’t need any more attention from the coaches. Telling them this would include telling them I drank, and I’ll be kicked off the team. I want to forget that this night ever happened.”

“Okay, okay. I understand. I just--that was wrong what he did to you, Feyre. Wrong on so many levels.”

I nodded. “I know,” I said softly.

Hesitantly, he reached out and wiped away the fresh tears that had escaped my eyes. I jumped at how gentle his touch was. The anger he’d shown only moments ago had faded into something I couldn’t quite place. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but he took my hand again, quickly, as though desperate for something to focus on. “I can only see one piece of glass in this. I can try to take it out now, but we should probably wait until we get back to Astrid Oaks.”

I sighed. Whatever I’d seen in his eyes a moment ago was gone. “Okay.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Rhys said. The shouts from the line behind us had faded for a while, but they were beginning to intensify as those in line cast around for any form of entertainment during their wait.

Rhys stood. He looked down at me, and seemed to be debating something with himself. His arm twitched, as though he wanted to grab my good hand, or put his arm around me to lead me across the street. Then he turned.

I stood and followed his lead, the world tilting and then righting itself thanks to the vodka.. “Rhys.”

He stopped in the middle of the empty street, pivoting to face me. My eyes met his violet ones, and for a second, it was just us. No noise from the bars, not a single car on the road. Everything stopped as I looked at him. As he gazed at me. “Thank you,” I said quietly. “For coming to help me.”

He cleared his throat, then started for the car again. “Anytime, Feyre darling.”

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

Rhys held the door to the passenger seat open for me as I climbed in. Cradling my bloody hand, I watched him dash around the front of the car before he swung into the driver’s seat. He rifled through the glove box and handed me a pack of tissues. “Sorry I don’t have anything better.”

“No, this is great. Thanks.” I grabbed the tissues and tried to wipe off some of the dried and fresh blood from my hand.

Rhys was quiet for the ten minute drive. He pulled into our neighborhood and headed for my house. Thank God. If I wasn’t up for hanging with his friends before this, I definitely wasn’t now. I had made it out of the car and halfway up the sidewalk to my house when I noticed someone sitting on my doorstep.

“Hi, Mor.”

The gorgeous blonde grinned at me, circumstances be damned. “Feyre! I’m so glad you’re okay.” She jumped up and rushed toward me. “Your hand! Oh my God. Say no more, I’ve got you covered.”

I could practically feel Rhys rolling his eyes from behind me. “Mor’s going to be a doctor one day. She never shuts up about it.”

“Don’t listen to Rhys. He’s much too dumb to even think about getting a medical degree. No doubt he has already tried telling you how to fix your hand in addition to claiming to be an expert on everything else. Well, I’m here to tell you that he’s a know-it-all and you should come to me for help with stuff like this from now on.”

Amused, I ignored Rhys’s disgruntled “Hey!” from behind me. Rhys and his group were always so serious on the pool deck--or at least any time I saw them. Even when out partying with the team, they kept to their circle. This side of Rhys, and his friend, was surprising. “With all due respect, Mor, I think I’m going to try to avoid stuff like this from now on.”

Mor’s grin widened. “I have a feeling we are going to be great friends, Feyre.”

I didn’t say anything. But despite my own history of keeping my circle of friends small, despite everything that had happened to me tonight, I smiled.

Maybe it wasn’t too late for friends.

Mor led me into the house, breezing down the hallway as though she owned the place. She pushed me into one of the chairs at my own kitchen table and started rifling through my cabinets. She found the first aid kit in record time for someone who’d never set foot in my kitchen before.

She made short work of my wound. She extracted the shard and bandaged me up with confidence, even though I was sure that as a junior she didn’t have much medical training yet. Nevertheless, her assured demeanor made me feel as though I was in very capable hands.

“Rhys, be a dear and get my phone off the front porch,” Mor asked sweetly as she finished with my hand. “I promised I’d call Azriel to give him an update. If you don’t mind, Feyre. Everyone was worried when Rhys and I explained where we were going.”

I shook my head. “That’s, uh, fine. If we can keep this whole thing within your group, though, that’d be great.”

“Of course.” She packed up the kit and crossed the kitchen to replace it within the cabinet. “If you want to talk about it, or decide you want to report that bastard’s behavior, you tell me. Whatever you want. I’ll help.” I had a feeling she’d only sent Rhys to get her phone so she could speak to me without him there. She might have even left her phone out there on purpose.

Stunned by her kindness, by her strength, I could only manage to nod.

Not too late for friends, indeed.

After sitting around my kitchen table and talking about nothing for a half hour, Mor said she was going to head back to her and Rhys’s shared place. Probably to drink the rest of the night away. I thanked her emphatically, and she merely promised me she’d be over in the morning to check on my hand and take me to breakfast. She said everything with such confidence that I didn’t even try to deny her. Her mood was infectious, even at the end of what was arguably one of the worst nights of my life. Before I knew it, she was gone, leaving Rhys and me alone in my dark kitchen.

He sighed, and moved to stand up. Before I could talk myself out of it, I placed my good hand on his forearm before he could. “Rhys. I don’t understand why you did it, but I cannot thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. Everything you’re doing for me. Driving me home from the Halloween party, inviting me to hang out with your friend group--something I’m sure you don’t really want me messing up, and picking me up tonight. I owe you.”

His eyes, locked on my hand on his arm for the duration of my small speech, moved to meet mine. “You wouldn’t mess up my friend group. And you owe me nothing. I’ve been a crappy leader to this team, keeping to myself and my friends. You’re my teammate. And worth a lot more than you give yourself credit for.”

I withdrew my arm. “Well. Thank you. Maybe. . .”

He raised his brows.

“Maybe I can hang out with you guys some other time.”

All the tension left his face. “Anytime, Feyre darling. Anytime.”

I walked him to the door. He was all the way down the front steps before he turned and said, “I mean it. Call me if you need anything. Anytime.”

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #a court of mist and fury #feysand modern au #sarah j maas

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thewriterwithnoplan · 5 years

Text

Between the Courts (Part 7)

Summary: Daughter of the Dawn, Warrior of the Night. Her Homes were being threatened. Her friend has just come home. She made a sacrifice in vain. And stole a hidden power. A new threat rises. The circle is ready. Pairing: Cassian x OC Word Count: 1624 Warnings: None.

Are you sure about this? Raya hissed. It's just going to attract more attention to us. What if he insists on coming in too? What then Luci?

"You know I hate when you call me that." I huffed, straining my wings to fly faster toward the townhouse. "It's been a week, it's time to set the plan into action. We've waited long enough, I don't care who comes, we need to get into the prison."

So let's go! She tightened herself around my waist. Stop wasting time.

"That's the thing, we need Rhys' blood to get in." I landed sloppily on the roof. "Like a key. There's no just breaking in."

I hope you know what you're doing.

I didn't dare reply to her as I made my way into the house. With a slight strain upon my memory, I found my way to Rhysand's office door. Before I could even knock he called me in, probably having sensed me land. I entered the room carefully, Rhys sat, garbed in black with legs resting upon his desk. Shadows and darkness danced in the corners of the poorly lit room. His magic set free Rhys' powers curled in wisps from all around.

"Luna." Rhys' voice barely pulled my attention from the shadows. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I have a favour to ask." I blurted, bypassing pleasantries.

He sat up straiter, "Of course, go ahead."

"I need to visit the prison." I twisted my fingers conscious of his dumbfounded expression. "One of the inmates has some information I want."

"You're serious?" He frowned deeply. "You weren't just saying that to give Cas and I a heart attack?"

"I..." The words escaped me. How could I explain this? "Is that a no?"

Rhys ran a tired hand over his face, "You wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary but... I need to know who we're going to see."

"The bone carver." My fidgeting increased its tempo.

"The carver." He smacked his lips disdainfully and for a moment I thought he'd deny my request. But he stood and held out a hand, "Let's go."

* * *

"So you won't tell me what you want to know?" Rhys asked running a bloody palm across the bone gates surface.

"And risk the inmates hearing?" I snorted with a swift shake of my head.

"Fine." He gave a childish huff and held out his hand. "Come on, you won't be able to navigate through the dark."

If only he knew. Raya snickered.

I smiled at her antics and took his outstretched hand. We wound our way through the prison tunnels. After a minute confined between two never-ending walls, I noticed how clammy Rhys' hands had become. A thought quickly struck me. These tunnels sure resembled under the mountain, at least as much as I remembered of it from so long ago. Crap.

"You can turn back." I murmured, turning my head to better sense his features through the darkness. It wasn't exactly like seeing but close enough that I noticed the frown between his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" He tried to play it off. I yanked him to a stop, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder.

"It's okay to be nervous." I gave him a small smile. "You spent a long time down there. It's only normal."

"But I got out." Rhys sounded so sure but looked less than. Leading me onward I decided it was something to discuss when less prying ears were around. We continued in silence toward a small intricately carved bone door.

"You should wait here." I insisted once Rhys had unlocked the hatch.

"No way, that thing could try anything." He argued. "It's not up for discussion either."

Told you. Raya huffed.

I rolled my eyes deciding that indeed there was no use arguing and I may as well get my information. We entered the dimly lit room that our fae eyes thankfully made clear. A figure hobbled curiously from the corner. Shoulder length brown hair, dark clothing and piercing blue eyes. Skin as pale as someone from the winter court but far more fragile looking. Me. It was a male version of me.

"Lucina?" His voice was smooth and deep.

I tilted my head toward my chest in a small incline of respect, "Uncle."

Rhys stiffened from where he stood behind and to the side of me. Whether from my words or how the Carvers eyes lit up I couldn't tell. I wondered what he saw, what form the carver showed him. Was it a version of himself as mine was? Or perhaps did he see me too?

"I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you," He tilted his head. "You've not contacted me lately."

"I was allowed to return to the surface, I've been quite caught up. I apologise." Even I was tense now. I'd upset him, a big mistake. Having the same powers as his brother, Bryaxis, allowed me to contact them easily through my mind. The family bond, Stryga - the weaver - had named it.

"I was kidding child," A grin split his face and he motioned me toward him, "Come here."

The tension left me easily as I thanked the mother that he wasn't angry. Taking two strides to close the distance I wrapped my arms around his middle. Bryaxis was my father and he my uncle in all but blood. Of course, I still had family in the Dawn court but we were never close.

"What have you brought me?" He asked once I'd returned to Rhys' side.

From within the satchel I'd summoned I drew a single bone, "A bone from the first kill of the Great War." There was a hollow clank, against the stone floor as it clattered before him. "Retrieved... Retrieved from the mainland museum."

"You stole from the mainland!?" Rhys pulled at my shoulder, effectively forcing me to face him. "That's an act of war Lucina."

The carver grinned up at me from where he crouched over it, "Tell him."

I squirmed and shook my head.

"Tell me what?" Rhys' angry eyes bored into mine and his expression burnt into the inside of my eyelids. "Lucina. Tell me what?"

"I didn't steal it, they gave it to me. I had every right to it." I looked away not wanting to see his face. "It wasn't just the first kill of the war. It was my first kill too."

"You really do spoil me." The carver tapped at the bone with delight. "You must want something big, bad."

"I do," I whispered.

"As always then, a secret for an answer then my dear." He tucked the bone into a pocket and stood expectantly. "Or would you, high lord like an answer?"

"Tamlin was the one to murder my family." He shot in quickly.

But before he could ask a question the carver chuckled, "A true secret high lord, your inner circle is well aware of the culprit of that crime. Lucina why don't you give an example, I'm sure your secrets are already prepared."

"I've four bargains," I told him without hesitation. "On my left ankle, right hand, hip and behind my ear."

"Ask your question, my dear." He seemed rather amused.

"Tamlin, I want to know the three people closest to him." I crossed my arms tightly across my chest.

"Easy enough, Feyre, Lucien and Ianthe." His grin grew impossibly wider.

"My mother's wings were torn from her body before she was murdered." Rhys cut me off before I could open my mouth. "Now tell me why Lucina called you uncle."

"That is a terrible secret isn't it?" The carver was delighted. "Bryaxis, Stryga, Lucina and I have a bond, we are family of a sort."

"Is that true?" I nodded meekly at his question, not daring to look my high lord in the eyes. "Wh..."

I spoke over him, "If Bryaxis hadn't offered me the bargain to train in the cavern when he did, I'd have martyred myself to force the dawn court to fight against Amarantha's reign. Now tell me, which court do I belong to?" Rhys gapped at me.

"The night and the dawn court. You are bound to both and neither." His expression dropped. "Why do you ask?"

"I want to know whether I'm still bound to abide by the law," I gave him an emotionless look, telling him that I was in fact, completely serious.

"You both know what I'll ask for, in return for that answer." He looked me up and down in a predatory way. It was defiantly not the flattering, flirty looks women often got, it was like I were a slab of meat.

"What does he want?" Rhysand stepped forward so I could once again see him.

"My bones."

"No."

"I promise you my bones on two conditions Carver." I ignored Rhys' protests. "You can carve my bones only after Stryga takes the rest of me for her spinning wheel and once you've caved each one of my bones they'll go to Bryaxis."

"And your second request?"

"You remove Rhysand's memory of this conversation until I decide otherwise, we came here and he waited outside that is all he has to know." Rhysand's protests only grew, I'd angered him now. "I think you'll agree that this term benefits us both, you're protected and I can keep my secret a while longer. Do we have a deal?"

"We do." An armlet inked itself upon my right upper arm. "His memories will change the moment you leave the prison. I'll ensure your remains are dealt with as you please as well."

He motioned to his matching tattoo, marring his left arm.

"Now, am I bound to the law?"

"No."

"Lovely."

#acomaf #acotar #bone carver #weaver #bryaxis #rhysand #night court #dawn court #lucina #luna #raya #inner circle #court of dreams

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bookaholic1012 · 6 years

Text

Prythian Magazine Part 13

A/N: Andromache makes in appearance. She is a part of Day Court because I feel like if she were fae, that would be the court she would be a part of. Feysand/Vamren/Andromor moments happen. The meeting will occur in the next chapter! Hope y'all enjoy!

Tagging: @sugarcoated44 @unicornbooks @ourbooksuniverse @ame233

If you want to be tagged or no longer want to be, let me know!

PM Masterlist Writing Masterlist

“What in the hell are you two doing here?” Feyre demanded.

Elain revealed the issue with them on it. “When I was walking home, I saw this. I thought you two were still together, so I picked it up to read the article. What Tamlin said didn’t sound like you. Nesta and I went to Tamlin’s to find you, but you were gone. Tamlin told us you were in Night Court.”

“How did you find me?”

Nesta spoke up. “You always spoke about that friend of yours from the Night Court. It wasn’t hard to find where she lived considering her fame.”

“So, what? After years of shutting me out, you think you have a right to know what happened?”

“We’re your family, Feyre. We’re sisters.” Elain said as a means of explanation.

“Are you kidding me?” Feyre felt her temper rise. “Sisters? Family? You honestly have the nerve to call the three of us that? Where was my family when Mom died? When Dad was admitted to rehab? When I went out every single day since I was fourteen to find multiple jobs to support us? The both of you never lifted a finger; never asked once if I needed help. Nesta, you were nineteen, and you were eighteen, Elain! You were both fully capable of getting jobs to support the four of us!”

“We were busy with college.” Nesta argued, clenching and unclenching her jaw.

“And what? I had all the time in the world? I had shit to do! I also had school to focus on!” Feyre shouted.

“We’re sorry, Feyre.” Elain said.

“Sorry?” Shrieked Feyre. “I don’t need your fucking apologies! What I needed was for my sisters to be there for me. To help me!”

“Feyre, please let us in so we can talk.” Begged Elain.

“No. I don’t want to talk to you guys, let alone have you inside my-- Mor’s-- house.”

Hurt was evident in Elain’s eyes. “I know we made a mistake, Fey, but--”

“Don’t call me that.” Feyre snapped.

“Come on, Elain.” Nesta said, reaching for her sister’s arm. “It’s clear Feyre doesn’t want us here.”

“Feyre, please.” Whispered Elain.

“Good-bye.” Was all Feyre said before slamming the door shut.

She paced around the house, not bothering to wipe the tears rolling down her pale cheeks. Feyre had often wondered what would happen if she encountered her sisters; this was not at all what she thought.

What did I expect? She thought. Feyre knew she would confront them about all the years they let Feyre do the work, but she didn’t expect it to go this way. Yet, a weight seemed to be lifted off her shoulders. It felt good to yell at them, to express her thoughts.

A knock sounded at the door. Feyre hastily wiped the tears and rushed to the door.

“I told you guys to le-- oh, Rhys.”

“Hello, Feyre darling.” Rhys greeted, his violet eyes narrowing. “Are you crying? What happened?”

“I…”

“Sorry,” He interrupted. “That’s nosy. Don’t feel obligated to answer, just ignore that.”

Despite her mood, Feyre’s lips tugged upwards. “It’s alright. Do you want to come in?”

“Yes. I mean, I came to talk to you, but if you want to be alone I understand. I can just come back later, or never, or whenever you want to see me. Not that you have to of course, I just mean that if you don’t want company--” Rhysand rambled.

“Rhys! It’s okay. You can come in.” Feyre chuckled.

Rhys stepped in, keeping his head down. Feyre didn’t missed his colored cheeks, though.

“Awww. Is someone blushing?” She teased.

“W-what? N-no! I’m just hot.” Rhys sputtered.

“Sure.”

The pair sat down on the couch. A beat of silence passed before Rhys spoke again.

“Feyre… if you aren’t feeling alright, then maybe I should go. What I want to take to you about will probably upset you more.”

“Rhys, just tell me.”

Rhys took out his phone and pulled something up before showing Feyre. The picture on his phone felt like a punch to the gut. It was the same photo Elain showed her. The same one Amren brought to her. The one she looked at every night wondering: Why? Why did he do this? How could he?

I warm hand cupped her cheek, thumb wiping away tears she didn’t realize were falling.

“I’m so sorry, Feyre. I don’t want you to hurt more, but I thought you would want to know.”

“I do.”

“What?”

Feyre met Rhys’s worried gaze. “On my first day, Amren came into my dressing room. She showed me the magazine. I wanted to tell you guys, but didn’t know how.”

Rhys reached to pull Feyre into a hug but stopped short. “May I?” He asked.

Feyre nodded, extending her arms out to Rhys. He enveloped her in a warm, welcoming embrace.

“I don’t know why I still get upset. I mean, Amren said that there was a part of me that still loved Tamlin-- the one I used to love. I thought I would be over it by now.”

“It will likely take a while to get over the pain, Darling.”

They parted, but stayed close to one another.

“Will you stay here? I would actually like some company.”

“Of course, Feyre darling.”

“Varian? It’s Amren.”

“I know who it is, Amren. I have you in my contacts. Your name pops up when you call.” Varian explained, obvious amusement in his deep voice.

“Shut up.” Amren snapped.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Listen, Varian, what do you know about Anthony Hybern?” Amren inquired. Silence answered.

“You can talk now, you ass.” Amren said.

“Is that how you should treat your boyfriend?” Varian joked. “But I do know a lot about Hybern.”

“What?”

“Well, he is a shady businessman. He makes it his job to trick big companies into signing contracts that put them out of business. Hybern is also filthy rich, which makes it easy for him to buy people’s silence. The man also has contacts everywhere.”

“I know all that. Is there anything else you know?” She inquired.

“Ummm… oh! I overheard Tarquin talking about how Hybern is teaming up with the Spring Court Agency for something. I’m not sure what specifically is going on between the two. Sorry, babe.”

“No worries. I’ll find out.”

“You always do. I love you, Amren. Bye.” Varian said.

“Love you, too.” Amren answered before hanging up.

Amren sent out a group e-mail to the Inner Circle.

Group meeting. Tomorrow at noon. Bring Feyre and Lucien.

Amren was ticked off at how secretive the meeting between Hybern, Tamlin, and Ianthe. She knew one thing for sure though. Something horrible is going to happen. Something that may ruin the Night Court.

Azriel exited Tamlin’s mansion like shadows. In and out. He finished hooking up the microphones and video recorders in various places around his home, especially the office. He checked the black watch on his wrist: 4:57. A little more than an hour before the meeting would take place.

Azriel got into his sleek black Jaguar and drove far away, but still in range of the Bluetooth recorders. He pulled out his battered copy of The Lord of the Rings and settled in.

“When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced…”

Mor was stuck. She knew how she wanted the dress to look like, but she wasn’t sure how to do express it.

I need a break, She decided.

At that moment, her phone rang. She smiled at the screen before answering.

“Hey, Andromache!”

“Mor! Hi!” Andromache’s honey-like voice answered.

“What’s up?” Mor asked.

“Well, I finished up a fitting for the Day Court fashion show. Today was the last day for it and Helion just informed everyone that we have a vacation for the next week and a half, so I can come up to your place.”

“That’s awesome!” Mor exclaimed. “I can’t wait to see you again!”

“Same. I’ve missed you.”

“Me, too. It sucks we both work so much.” Mor sighed.

“Yeah, but at least we can see each other soon.”

“Do you want me to come down and pick you up? Or will you drive yourself?”

“I’ll drive up. I have to go now. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah.” Mor said. “I love you.”

“And I you.”

The call ended leaving Mor feeling down. She wished their lives weren’t so busy. She missed when they first met in college and could hang out more often. This was her passion, though, and modeling was Andromache’s. If doing what they loved meant not spending much time together, then so be it.

The sound of knuckles rapping on a wooden door filled the silence.

“Come in.” Mor called.

Clotho appeared in the doorway with a note clutched in her hands.

“Hello, Clotho.” Mor smiled. Clotho nodded her head in greeting.

When Mor was starting out as a designer, she found Clotho being brutally attacked by a gang of males. She rescued her and helped her heal in whatever way she could. Clotho couldn’t speak afterwards and her hands were injured. Mor offered her a job so Clotho could provide for herself. She accepted a position as the secretary.

Clotho held out a note for Mor. After the attack, Clotho thankfully regained usage of her hands. Now, she communicates using writing.

Someone’s waiting for you in the lobby. was scrawled across the lined paper.

Mor got a sense of déjà vu. She remembered this situation from when Feyre and Lucien first came the week prior.

Mor thanked Clotho and practically ran out of her office. She was burning with curiosity. When Mor saw who was waiting for her, she came to a sudden halt.

“Andi!” She gasped.

Her girlfriend looked over. “Surprise!”

“Oh my god! What are you doing here?” Mor asked rushing over to embrace Andromache.

“I told you I was on vacation!” Andromache laughed.

“Yeah, but I thought you were coming later.” Said Mor.

“I didn’t want to waste any time, so I drove up as soon as Helion dismissed us.” Andromache explained, bending down to kiss Mor on her full lips.

Mor felt so relieved to be in her girlfriend’s arms. It felt right.

“So, do you need to work, or are you done for the day?” Andromache asked.

“I was just working on designs. I can finish them at home. Let me just run up and get my sketches.” Mor said, turning around to head to her office.

“I’m coming with you!” Andromache called, jogging to meet Mor.

Lucien sat on the wooden bench in Velaris Park. He didn’t know how far he walked nor how long he was gone for. All Lucien knew was that he needed to get fresh air.

When he used to live in Autumn Court, Lucien would walk to get out from the house where he was treated like dirt. It helped clear his mind. After the night he had, Lucien desperately needed a walk. He kept remembering conversations he and Cassian had.

“Why do you want to talk to me?” Lucien asked.

“We don’t really know each other.” Cassian explained. “It’s easier to talk about stuff to people who don’t really know you that well, and I have shit I need to get off my chest.”

Half of Lucien was honored Cassian came to confide in him. The other was telling him that Cassian only came to talk, not because he wanted to be with Lucien.

“Like what?” Lucien inquired.

“I was seeing this man, Christopher. No one knew about him. I’m not sure why, but recently I’ve been wanting to find someone to settle down with. I’m twenty-seven, Foxboy. I always thought I would’ve found someone by now; have a family with them.” He said.

“Did it not work out between you two?”

“No. I didn’t feel anything for him and I’ve been dating him for two weeks. It seems short, but I thought I would’ve had some sort of feelings for him, ya know. I guess after years of sleeping with people only, I’m so used to that notion of not getting feelings for anyone, that I’m incapable of being in a loving relationship.”

Lucien didn’t know how to respond to that. He put a hand on Cassian’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“I’ve seen you with your friends, Cassian. You are capable of loving. Maybe all you need is the right person.”

Cassian turned to lock eyes with Lucien. They looked into each other’s eyes for who knows how long. He could’ve sworn Cassian leaned forward a centimeter, but the moment was over in a blink of an eye.

Lucien snapped out the memory. He and Cassian stayed up for a long time after that, talking about anything or just enjoying each other’s company. At least, Lucien hoped Cassian enjoyed being with Lucien.

Lucien got up from the bench and started walking back to Mor’s place. As he headed back, Lucien kept his mind focused away from the feelings bubbling up inside him.

Feelings that have been dormant since Andras died.

Please let me know your thoughts! Updates weekly on Saturdays!

Much love,

bookaholic1012

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birdiethebibliophile · 7 years

Text

{fic} Et Lux Solis Obumbratio (part 2)

Rating: M (violence, possible character death) Chapter Tags: Sexual assault mention Main Relationships: Cassian/Lucien, Azriel/Cassian Word Count: 1,293

Tagging @caz-riel!

Here on AO3.

Summary:

Lucien's ties to the Spring Court are slowly loosened. Abandoned to Ianthe's tender mercies by Tamlin, Lucien comes to rely more and more on his mating bond with Cassian.

Chapter 2: Roots and Wings

Meals in the Spring Court, once something Lucien looked forward to, were now a torture he could barely stand. And they were about to get worse.

“Ianthe will be here tomorrow.”

Lucien’s hand tightened on his fork, the bread and lamb he was eating suddenly devoid of flavor. He swallowed hard, but the statement wasn’t meant for him – it was directed at Feyre across the table. She was wearing a light green dress and a look of wide-eyed uncertainty. “But –”

Tamlin cut her off. “I know, I know. But she truly does seem penitent, and I – we – need her help if we are to stand against Hybern.”

Lucien had heard this before: that Tamlin had never meant to uphold the bargain with the king, that they’d find a way around it. The hard part was that Lucien truly believed that Tamlin was being honest, and that was his intention, but Lucien didn’t know if it was possible.

And he would’ve let the world burn before he let Ianthe get anywhere near him again, with her cloying scent and her too-curious fingers. He’d had quite enough of her on Calanmai. That thought robbed him of his appetite so completely that he set his knife and fork down, unable to even think of eating another bite, despite the fact that the lamb was flavored with rosemary – one of his favorite herbs of the Spring Court, which was saying something. When he’d first fled there from the Autumn Court, he’d been stunned by the lightness, the freshness of Spring Court food, so used was he to the heavy, hot food of the Autumn Court. He craved it at times – the stews and pies and things baked and fried – but mostly, he adored the Spring Court’s food, which spoke to him of a light-heartedness and ease he had not found anywhere else.

Now, though, it stuck in his throat.

“I don’t know,” Feyre said hesitantly, hands clenching. “She sold my sisters out, Tamlin. It’s her fault they’re now in – in his hands. I don’t know if I can just forgive that.”

A good act. Almost impeccable – to Tamlin, that is. Then again, Tamlin had always seen what he wanted to see, and nothing else. Lucien had thanked the Mother daily for that for years. Cauldron boil him, had Tamlin known of Lucien’s waning love for him and his Court – it could’ve been enough to brand him a traitor. Lucien had seen him execute people for less.

All that remained of that love now was a tiny thread of affection and a thin semblance of loyalty. It had been dying for a long time now, but Cassian had swept any vestiges away as surely as a tidal wave destroys a coastal city. Lucien felt nothing for the man at the table now – no jolt of his heart at the sight of long golden hair, no lurching of his stomach at a glance from green-and-amber-flecked eyes, none of the fierce love he’d harbored for Tamlin in his early years at the Spring Court. Not even the steadfast devotion, the unwavering loyalty, that had eventually replaced it. Instead, Lucien’s dreams were haunted by an accented voice, hazel eyes, and dark, dark hair in messy curls.

Lucien didn’t know how he already knew Cassian’s appearance so well. He certainly didn’t see the man for long enough in Hybern to absorb all those details. He suspected they came from the same dreams where Hybern’s magic tore through the room and Cassian screamed as he shielded the shadowsinger.

That’s when Lucien would wake up with his back on fire and despair in his heart so deep he didn’t know whether it was his, or his mate’s, or both.

Tamlin’s claws threatened to spring from his knuckles. “I know,” he said, voice tight. “Believe me, there will be a reckoning for that. But she is still my friend, and I need her.”

Feyre gave a shaky sigh. “All right. I’ll try,” she said.

No one but Lucien noticed faint talons of shadow curl over Feyre’s fingers as they clenched on the arm of her chair.

*****

“Be reasonable, Lucien.”

“No.”

Lucien wouldn’t look at her. He couldn’t look at her blonde hair and teal eyes and blue-grey robes without wanting to vomit at her feet, so he didn’t look at her.

“Feyre forgave me,” Ianthe chided, blinking long lashes at him. “So did Tamlin. Why won’t you?”

He felt her approaching rather than saw it, and caught her wrist in a death-grip an inch from his arm. “Don’t,” he snarled, even as her scent filled his nostrils and choked his lungs. “Don’t try to make nice with me. You may have told yourself stories about Calanmai, but I only touched you to save Tamlin from having to.” And because you insisted it be me who went with you into that cave. “As you may have heard,” he continued, “I’m a mated male now and thus do not wish the company of anyone else in my bed.” His voice turned silvery and sweet. “Nothing personal.”

Ianthe’s smile was frozen. “Ah, yes. The Illyrian bastard,” she said softly. “Your mother must be so proud.”

Lucien let out a snarl. “Leave her out of this. And don’t call him that.”

Ianthe reached up and stroked his cheek. He flinched away. “Worried what he’ll think of you when he finds out you fucked me?” she whispered. “Worried you won’t even be good enough for a low, dirty Illyrian?”

Lucien’s hand flew without his bidding and connected with Ianthe’s face with a resounding smack. He immediately paled and took a step back as the red handprint faded from her face.

She took a step towards him, eyes glittering like the stone in her diadem. “You’ll regret that,” she whispered to Lucien. “You don’t know what I’m capable of, fox.” And she whirled and left the room.

Lucien stood motionless in the room for long after she left, and, with nothing else to hold onto, he clung to the bond.

The connection had grown in the weeks it had been forged. He wondered if it felt like this to Cassian – a constant ache, like he was one person in two bodies Sensations, emotions… it now went as far as taste or sound at times. At times like this – when the mating bond was the only solid thing in Lucien’s life – it pulsed like a living thing.

And on the other end was Cassian.

Cassian.

Lucien was half in love with him already. It was like all his life he’d been seeing the world in black and white, and Cassian saw the world in color. All of Cassian’s experiences, his emotions, were so strong they almost felt like Lucien’s own. Maybe it was just the mating bond, but Lucien had a feeling that was truly the way Cassian saw the world. And in moments like these…

Lucien closed his eyes and allowed the cool mountain air Cassian always seemed to be breathing to fill his lungs. He could smell pine, and jasmine. He could also feel a terrible, unrelenting ache in his back, but he’d learned to block that out during his waking hours. The scents of the Night Court washed away Ianthe’s scent of sex and perfume, banished her threats.

He would cross that bridge when he came to it. And even if Cassian rejected the mating bond the moment he saw Lucien, the other man had given him something to live for again, something to ground him. He had always had trouble living for himself – had since Jesminda. He’d lived for Tamlin for centuries, and fuck it if he didn’t want to live for Cassian now.

He would never be able to thank his mate enough for that.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acowar #acowar fanfiction #lucien #cassian #lussian #lussian fanfiction #lucien x cassian #cazriel #cazriel fanfiction #cassian x azriel #acowar rewrite #angst #m/m #et lux solis obumbratio #elso #mine

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deviantstormtrooper · 6 years

Text

Music part eight

Previous part: https://ravenshadowrose.tumblr.com/post/170011905485/music-part-seven

Kylo groaned as he woke up from his dreamless sleep, his entire body ached. The pain relief that Ianthe had given him had obviously worn off. He lay still, moving would only make it hurt more. He sighed and then winced, the injuries to his chest made breathing painful. Snoke had been unhappy with his performance during training and had punished him for it. He had held him still with the Force and allowed the Praetorian Guards to beat him as they saw fit. Kylo trembled as he remembered trying to use the Force to protect himself from them, only to find that Snoke had cut him off from it. He relived every hit they landed on him behind his closed eyes.

He felt miserable, Snoke was demanding more of him with every passing day. He was not sure how much he had left to give. Snoke had told him he would become more powerful if he opened himself up to the power of the Dark Side. Why did it feel as though he was becoming weaker? He had done as Snoke had asked of him, he had killed those who stood in his way. He had trained every day, though Snoke gave him little in the way of direction or encouragement.

Kylo slowly opened his eyes and waited for them to adjust to the darkness of the room. Memories of the previous night came back to him, of how Ianthe had helped him. He remembered seeking out her room after Snoke had finished with him, sure that she would help him. The gentleness of her touch as she examined and treated his injuries was fresh in his mind. He had watched her as she worked, and felt her distress at seeing his injuries. He'd also felt the anger running under the sadness, he doubted she even knew it was there, but he did.

He heard himself asking her to stay with him, he'd been relieved when she had agreed to do so. She had not been afraid of sharing a bed with him or holding him in her arms. She had shown no judgement of him for crying, instead, she had stroked his hair until he fell asleep. She had been warm and her touch had comforted him. Kylo shut his eyes, he wanted her to hold him all the time. If she was there then maybe he could sleep, maybe he would get the rest he needed.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and a figure slipped inside. Kylo resisted the urge to take his lightsaber and power it on, just in case it was an enemy. He closed his eyes and lay still, searching the Force for any signs of malice from the person entering the room. He relaxed when he felt Ianthe's comforting presence through the Force. He heard her turn on the light at the side of the bed. She sat down on the bed and her hand moved over his messy curls. He kept his eyes closed, hoping she would keep stroking his hair if she thought he was still asleep.

“Kylo,” she whispered quietly.

He slowly opened his eyes to see Ianthe looking down at him, she gave him a small smile.

“How are you feeling?”

He hesitated for a few moments, unsure of if he should tell her the truth or not.

“Sore,” he eventually uttered, lowering his eyes from hers. Admitting weakness was not something that came easy to him.

“I have something that will help with the pain, if you want it.”

She opened her hand to reveal two pale pills.

“What are they?”

“A painkiller, it will allow you to move about more comfortably without making you sleepy. You will be able to go about your business and no one will know about what happened.”

Kylo stared at Ianthe, she had obviously thought about him, how he would not want people to know how Snoke had had him beaten. He slowly sat up and reached for the pills, his fingers brushing hers as he took them. He put them in his mouth and took the glass of water Ianthe held out to him. He swallowed the pills and took another mouthful of the water, grimacing at the taste of the painkiller.

“Sorry, they don't taste good, but they will help with your pain.”

“It's okay, thank you.”

“You're welcome, now, you need to eat something. Your body is going to need fuel to help you recover from your injuries.”

He took the bowl of porridge that Ianthe held out to him, he was mystified, she was caring for him and helping him. He had not had anyone do that for him in a long time. He was curious, he did not know much about Ianthe or how she came to be working for the First Order.

“Ianthe,” he said between mouthfuls.

“Yes?”

“How did you end up working here?”

He noticed her freeze, a subtle stiffening of her body, he would have missed it if he hadn't been watching her closely. He felt her conflicting emotions; sadness, pain, anger, betrayal, someone had obviously hurt her.

“It's a long story.”

“I've got time.”

He could have gained the knowledge from her mind or looked up her file on a datapad, but he wanted her to tell him. Ianthe breathed deeply several times before she started her story.

“Brendol Hux came to my planet ten years ago, he was looking for recruits for the stormtrooper programme. I was fifteen at the time, too old to be a stormtrooper. However, my father, and I use that term very loosely, had other ideas. He wanted to sell me to Hux as a slave, anything to get me out of his house.”

Kylo felt anger and pain flood through Ianthe, her father had been the one who had hurt her, he was sure of it.

“My mother died when I was ten, she got ill and she never recovered. I was always her favourite, whereas he preferred my older sister. My mother taught me to play the violin and to assist her when she worked as a healer. She taught me everything that she knew, yet I could not save her.”

Ianthe's voice wobbled as she talked about her mother dying, he heard her take a few deep breaths to calm herself enough to carry on her story. He admired her strength, losing her mother at such a young age must have been hard for her.

“I hid her violin where I knew nobody would find it, he heard me playing it one day and he beat me for it. He hated the sound of it, said it was preventing me from working and earning money. My sister got the education and the best of everything. He called her the beautiful one, the one he would be able to marry off to some rich man. He always used to tell me that nobody would want me as I am plain, unremarkable, that no man wants a plain wife.”

Kylo felt the pain running through Ianthe, those words had really hurt her. He sensed they had made her throw herself into her work and keep herself busy all the time. If she was busy then she would not be able to feel the pain from those unkind words.

“I was sent to work at the local houses, my father hired me out to anyone that needed some work doing. He barely fed me, only gave me enough food so I wouldn't pass out when working. One of the older women used to hire me, she never made me work, she used to feed me instead. I listened to her stories of my mother and what she was like when she was young.”

A moment passed and memories of being beaten by her father slipped into Ianthe's mind. If she had not earned enough money then he would beat her and lock her in her room without food. He saw the memories of a young Ianthe crying herself to sleep. He suddenly understood why she had helped him, she knew the pain of being beaten and of being alone. It was why she had held him in her arms as he cried, he was sure of it. He wanted to find her father and make him suffer for all the pain he had put Ianthe through. Kylo was entranced, Ianthe was opening up to him, of all people. She had not tried to hide her memories, even though she knew he would be able to see them. He stayed quiet so she would continue telling him the story of her life.

“Brendol Hux saw me helping to treat one of the children that had fallen in the square. He asked me a lot of questions about where I had learned to help the little girl. I told him everything he wanted to know and he went straight to father. Hux offered to buy me from him and take me to work for the First Order. Father agreed straight away, he made it clear he was glad to be rid of me. I packed everything I had, including the violin, and left with Hux the next day.”

Ianthe's anger had started to lessen now that she had started talking about leaving her life behind and starting a new one with the First Order.

“I worked with the medical teams, they taught me everything that they knew. I went from being hungry and miserable to having a purpose in my life. I listened intently, took everything on board and looked after patients every day. Within two years I was running a medical bay by myself. I like to think that my mother is proud of me for helping people that need it, I really hope she is.”

“I am sure she is,” Kylo said softly.

“I have not heard anything from home since I left, it is probably for the best. I have made my own life here. My work keeps me busy and it makes me happy.”

Kylo knew Ianthe was putting on a brave face for him, he sensed how lonely she felt at times. He understood, being Snoke's apprentice was a lonely position to be in. His mentor did not care for him, he was only using him for his power.

“Your father was wrong.”

“About what?”

“You're not plain at all, you have a beauty that is seen by those who know how to look.”

Ianthe blushed, her cheeks flushing a brilliant scarlet colour. Kylo realised that he was the first man that had ever called her beautiful.

“Thank you,” she whispered quietly, the emotion evident in her voice.

He studied Ianthe closely, her thoughts clear in his mind. She had shared so much with him about her past and how she had suffered at the hands of her father. Ianthe lowered her head, she was trying to keep control over her emotions. She was willing herself not to cry, to stay strong. Despite Ianthe's best efforts, he saw tears start to run down her face. She bit her lip as she tried to gain some control over her emotions.

Kylo shifted closer to Ianthe, she didn't move so he put his arms around her. She had held him as he cried, now he wanted to return the favour. He moved his hand up to her hair and carefully stroked it. It surprised him that she cuddled into his arms, her head resting against his shoulder. He had thought that she might pull away from him, but she did not.

He slowly lay back on Ianthe's bed, taking her with him. She was now lying on his chest, her head and hand resting on his bare skin. He closed his arms around her and just held her close. He traced looping patterns over her top with his fingers. She did not seem to object so he kept doing it. Ianthe moved her head closer to his neck, almost into the same position as his from the night before. Kylo almost forgot how to breathe, he had very little experience with women, yet he now had one in his arms. He uttered the one sentence that came into his mind, his lips brushing against her forehead as he spoke.

“You are not alone.”

#kylo ren x oc #music #oc #fluff #hugging

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maglover · 3 years

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Who are the Twins' Parents?

I envision the Tridentarii Twins having an involved relationship with their parents based on how they’ve reference been reference in both Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth. So I've spent too much time visualizing how Coronabeth and Ianthe's family looks like.

CW: Descriptions of childbirth, pregnancy anatomy, parental abuse

Meet the Parents

I can see their parents having them late in life. Their mom had them when she was in her early 40s. I can also see their dad being much older than their mother; frankly the dynamic of having an elderly father I think would adds an interesting layer to Ianthe’s relationship with Augustine. There’s a lot that could be done there. But it’s really their mother who has defined their lives.

I envision their mother, being of course, impossibly beautiful and actually, I can see Coronabeth looking like a carbon copy of their mother. Similar to Coronabeth, Their mother was beautiful in her youth and it had a huge factor in her subsequent power and status in the Third House. But as she’s aged she feels as if her power, who she is, dies as she loses her youth. She’s neurotically obsessed with holding onto this sense of control. When Coronabeth was born, she and her husband were instantly attached because how could they not be? For her, Coronabeth was her beauty realized and her youth immortalized. In Corona, she will never die. But as you know, Ianthe was now dying inside their mother; that had to be addressed. Their mother didn’t want a C-section because she felt like her body would be "marred by the procedure" but there is no other way. It’s either have Ianthe cut from her or have her child die inside her. She agreed to the procedure because the latter was horrific but also because she was about to have the two most beautiful daughters— both mirror images of herself.

The doctor were able to C-section Ianthe but she was everything Corona was not. She came out pale, sickly, purgatorial and insulting. Their mother felt she sacrificed her body for this child; the well of resentment was an abyss deep. She cannot deny she is her daughter but she is not her child. And she was never going to let Ianthe forget this. Her mother obsessed over Corona to an extent that was too heavy for Corona to bear alone and her father, who was emotionally absent even when he’s standing in the room, indulged this game. Their mother wanted to cannibalize Corona and wear her skin and she wanted to cannibalize Ianthe and undo her. Remove her.

Medical Circumstance around their Birth (Graphic)

I know people have talked about if the twins are identical or fraternal because of how they’re described. But ignoring physical similarities (same height, same eyes, same build), for Corona to have cut off Ianthe’s oxygen during birth, my guess is that they were identical twins meaning they shared a placenta but had two different umbilical cords. When Corona was born, she most likely cased an umbilical cord prolapse which, without getting into gory details, would have cut Ianthe's oxygen-rich blood supply meaning she'd need a C-section. The majority of cases of umbilical cord prolapse occur in monozygotic pregnancies which is why I think Corona and Ianthe are identical. (this is also lowkey why I think the descriptions of Ianthe being "ugly" is actually not literal, but that's for another post).

These are all fan theories except for the scientific parts. I hope we’ll get more background about the twins in Alecto the Ninth. But until then I love fun and brainstorming for a fic I’m working on.

#both of their parents are huge #dad is like 6'6"? smth massive #their mother is 6 foot even #horrifying to be near them in many ways... the glittering dread #my take on ugly ianthe is that shes not bc if shes identical to her sister who is soooo beautiful #shes literally not ugly they have same face and body #her ugliness is one part gideon hating her which is valid bc shes 18 its what you do #another part and in my opinion one of the biggest points about the twins is that ianthe is a failed woman in the way her sister isnt #i think muir is very much alluding to that last statement #im also not a med student i just research this all too much but i fucked up please let me know #coronabeth tridentarius #ianthe tridentarius #the locked tomb trilogy #the locked tomb meta

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paintsflowers · 6 years

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the only word that could describe the look on his siblings' face was devastated. claude had been outside when the messenger and come and while he had hurried to the main hall, he had come too late to hear the news --- though one glance at the familiar faces of the others told him that whatever news the man had brought, it had not been something anyone had wanted to hear.

déodat was quiet and motionless, something that looked strange and wrong on him, but he slowly turned his head to face claude, despite his attention never leaving his twin. “ it's johannes, ” he said. prince johannes, he meant, but this went without saying; king johannes was awaiting his burial in the capital. “ he ... has died. ”

slowly, the weight of déodat's words reached claude. their prince, their friend was no more. and as everyone around him was not just sad but also consumed by underlying fury, it was not hard to guess that johannes had not died in an accident. the risk of assassination was, of course, a constant hazard for any member of the royal family, but --- this felt particularly wrong. johannes was --- had been a good man. honourable, diligent. the kind of man that had made freya worry that perhaps, he would break under the responsibilities of a king. anyone knew that to be a good king, one sometimes had to do the bad thing for the right reason.

“ murdered. ” claude could barely speak, managed to merely say one word before he collapsed onto the nearest chair. it was --- it was impossible to comprehend, just now. impossible to think that a man he had seen alive, mere days earlier, was gone now. still, despite his own pain, he thought of the princesses and the princes, of the queen who had just lost her husband, of princess gabrielle who would have to bury her twin, only a decade after she had buried her parents. the royal family was no stranger to loss, but this loss felt particularly cruel.

the sound that left asce's throat was barely human and this made sense because no one among them, not even freya, had loved johannes as much as asce had. in the name of everything that was holy --- asce had wanted to accompany the crown prince into the feuding south the way he usually would follow johannes anywhere dangerous and he had been so frustrated when his duties had kept him in bellrose. and the heir was a knight; the thought that harm had befallen his liege while he had been away had to be more painful than words could ever express.

by the window, basil turned around to look at the others --- and claude nearly flinched back; it had been many years since basil had looked like this, aflame with fury and grief alike. freya was next to him, two pale hands clinging to his upper arm, two blue eyes filled with nameless sadness. and while this picture would look wrong to an outsider, it did not feel wrong to claude. for all their fights and disagreements, for all their conflicting ideas --- when despair came, basil and freya would always present a united front. no one in the entire family was was alike as they were; thus, no one could ever hope to understand the bond that tied them to their fate.

“ murdered, ” éloi confirmed quietly, his eyes downcast and his fists clenched at his sides.

all of them loved the royal family fiercely ( and probably more than their own lives ), all of them wanted to see them happy and alive. this was why déodat had fought the last three royal tournaments as princess karla's champion --- because she trusted him and because he would never assume that it meant anything. this was why éloi had travelled with princess anna when she had gotten married, why he had stayed at a foreign court for two months before coming home. this was why freya had agreed to go to the capital and fight other noblewomen for the honour of becoming the crown prince's wife --- not because she had wanted the crown but because she had wanted to make sure that whoever would be the lucky one was someone the kingdom could rely on.

for them, ianthe would always come first. whether they could admit it or not, they were all used to putting country and crown first. even if it cost them relationships, even if it meant dealing with the resentment and the envy of other nobles. ianthe was their priority. they all would put the royal family first, before their own ambitions, before their own happiness, but freya and basil nearly matched their father in their dedication, a dedication that bordered to devotion. asce, too, though he had only ever been fully dedicated to johannes ( and maybe princess eleanor ) as they had been friends from birth almost, having sworn oath upon oath, always vowing that he would protect them and their interests. the rumours that asce would cast away his title to join the kingsguard as soon as johannes became king had been a rumour the family had never commented on, but claude had always thought that it would not surprise him if it came to this.

( especially considering that for most his life, people had told asce that basil would be better suited to the responsibilities of their father's title. )

by the window, there was movement as basil steered their sister to the nearest bench, gently pushing her to sit down, to rest. “ my heart breaks for the queen, ” freya said softly. from anyone else, it would have been a meaningless phrase. from freya, someone who hated their mother just as much as they all did, it was genuine sympathy --- and her best attempt at empathy in many weeks. the queen was a woman freya did not respect for her title, she was someone the youngest rosen respected because there was more strength hidden beneath all the silk than most expected. “ this has to be killing her. ”

silently, claude agreed. the idea of a loving mother who respected her children's choices was something he and his siblings were only familiar with because they had observed the way other mothers treated their children. their own mother was widely incapable of genuine affection, after all, and if she tried, she only made everyone very nervous. but queen cordelia? nothing about the way she had cautioned her children when she had been worried for them had ever felt like an act.

within his family, queen cordelia was a beloved figure because she had been the one who had saved ianthe from the ugly reality that would have come to fruition had an all-too-ambitious noblewoman by the name of audierna vos won the late king's heart and out of all the people who lived in the country, claude and his siblings knew best how bad such a reality would have been for the country and its people. king johannes had not needed a queen who knew how to play the game of high politics, he had not needed someone who blindly supported him. he had needed an equal. in cordelia doren, he had found the companion he had needed.

freya had not cried, not yet, but claude knew his sister far too well; she would cry at night when the wind would drown out the sound of her sobs. he knew because with one look, he could tell that this night, all of them would weep for the friend, for the prince they had lost. and in the morning, they would rise and wash off their faces before putting on their masks, reminding themselves to show strength, to be strong for those who would had been hit even harder by this vile, vile murder.

“ this means, ” basil said as he looked away from their sister, a grim expression falling over his face, “ that tess--- theresia will be queen, no? ”

asce nodded slowly, his own expression mirroring basil's, but it was freya who spoke, her voice bordering to hysterical which was all wrong because freya was usually calm in the face of tragedy. “ i'll tell mother one thing, ” she said, her voice sharper than knives and utterly venomous, “ that i will not marry theresia. ”

no one would expect her to, but her words reminded claude of something and, judging from their sudden flinches, his brothers had realised the same thing: freya would no longer be pressured to marry into the royal family by their mother as johannes was dead and peter was too young, but now, they would be expected to woo theresia.

#rosen family vc: in this house‚ we love johannes severin ii #narration tag #death tw #* i . ≺ narration ≻#* ii . there are many names in history but never mine‚ oh‚ never mine. ≺ royal ≻

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epochofbelief · 4 years

Text

Breath Control Chapter Three

an A Court of Mist and Fury College Swim Team Au

Primarily Feysand

Will include Nessian and Elriel

All characters belong to Sarah J Maas!

Warnings: alcohol, mature content, etc

Enjoy!!

Chapter Three

That meant it took me five minutes to walk from my townhouse in Astrid Oaks to his townhouse a few streets down. I briefly wondered who his roommate was.

I was halfway there when I got a text from Rhys.

“Feyre!”

Shit.

“Feyre,” he said again, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he came closer. “Come out with us. Please.”

I made an attempt to walk around him but he gripped my wrist. “Hey. I’ve given you some space--can’t we just forget that night? I made a mistake.”

I wrenched my arm back from him. “I have plans, thanks. Enjoy your night.”

What the hell? Was this some kind of movie? I certainly was not a damsel in distress.

“Tamlin! What are you doing? Let me out!”

But before I could consider punching him in the face and getting the hell out of there, he climbed in on the other side of me, shut the door, and the truck sped down the street.

But Hart passed the bars, passed the turnoff for the neighborhood where swimmers usually partied, and swiftly exited the downtown area. Where were we going?

“No, thanks.”

I gagged and he removed the bottle--vodka spilling all down my t-shirt. Shit.

He and Bron laughed, so loud I had to fight to make myself heard. “Where are we going, Tamlin?”

Hart spoke up. “My place! It’s on the edge of town.”

I had no idea where that was. Shit, shit, shit.

“Don’t leave, Feyreeee,” he said.

“Tamlin. I don’t want to party now. Please just let me get out and go home.”

He thought about it--as much as a drunk 22-year-old could think. “Drink the rest of this vodka and I’ll let you go home.”

I rolled my eyes. Fighting to keep my tone nonchalant, I said as playfully as I could, “I’m serious, Tamlin. What are you getting out of this? I won’t be any fun at the team party anyway.”

“I want you to drink it Feyre. Forget what I did that night. It didn’t mean anything.” He paused and I noticed that his face had paled. “Let’s end this fight.”

“Okay. I’ll drink, but only if you do, too,” I said, and slowly took the bottle.

He mustered up an uneasy grin. “Uh… Okay.”

Rhys.

The call was in progress.

“Calm down. I’m on Main street, next to Rita’s.” I steeled myself for what I would have to ask of him. “Could you come… pick me up?”

“Yes. Okay. I’m in the car now, I’ll be there in less than ten minutes. Stay there.”

“We have to report that, Feyre.”

“Okay, okay. I understand. I just--that was wrong what he did to you, Feyre. Wrong on so many levels.”

I nodded. “I know,” I said softly.

I sighed. Whatever I’d seen in his eyes a moment ago was gone. “Okay.”

I stood and followed his lead, the world tilting and then righting itself thanks to the vodka.. “Rhys.”

He cleared his throat, then started for the car again. “Anytime, Feyre darling.”

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

“No, this is great. Thanks.” I grabbed the tissues and tried to wipe off some of the dried and fresh blood from my hand.

“Hi, Mor.”

I could practically feel Rhys rolling his eyes from behind me. “Mor’s going to be a doctor one day. She never shuts up about it.”

Mor’s grin widened. “I have a feeling we are going to be great friends, Feyre.”

I didn’t say anything. But despite my own history of keeping my circle of friends small, despite everything that had happened to me tonight, I smiled.

Maybe it wasn’t too late for friends.

I shook my head. “That’s, uh, fine. If we can keep this whole thing within your group, though, that’d be great.”

Stunned by her kindness, by her strength, I could only manage to nod.

Not too late for friends, indeed.

I withdrew my arm. “Well. Thank you. Maybe. . .”

He raised his brows.

“Maybe I can hang out with you guys some other time.”

All the tension left his face. “Anytime, Feyre darling. Anytime.”

I walked him to the door. He was all the way down the front steps before he turned and said, “I mean it. Call me if you need anything. Anytime.”

#acomaf #acotar #acomaf fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #a court of mist and fury au #acomaf au #acotar au #a court of thorns and roses #feysand #feyre x rh #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #the morrigan #high lord #night court

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bookaholic1012 · 6 years

Text

Prythian Magazine Part 3

The Inner Circle make their appearance! I hope this chapter isn’t too crappy, I didn’t take as much time as I usually do writing this chapter. Sorry!

(I know I already said it on here, but imma say it again: I love the title for the ACOTAR novella, A Court of Frost and Starlight!!! Also, SJM said on her insta post “ Feyre and Rhys will narrate it (along with a few others!)”. ‘ALONG WITH A FEW OTHERS’?!?!?! I am fangirling so hard over ACOFAS!)

PM Masterlist My Writing

Feyre woke up with a gasp. She was shaking, covered in sweat, tears spilling down her face. Feyre rushed to the bathroom, knowing what was next. Kneeling on the cool tile, her dinner came rushing up. She threw up until nothing was left. Leaning against the bathtub, she curled up in a ball, trying to get a grip on herself.

Not real. Not real. Not real.

Over and over Feyre chanted. Ever since the accident, she had nightmares. Feyre lost her will to paint. Her will to eat. She was so close to losing her will to live. Feyre was wasting away and Tamlin did nothing. He and that snotty bitch, Ianthe Naomh, would play dress up on her. Feyre preferred ripped jeans, sweats, skater skirts, those types of clothes over dresses and poofy skirts. She preferred black, dark blues and purples and red - or more accurately, she used to prefer red - over pink and pale greens and yellows. Ianthe picked out the clothes and Tamlin bought them. Makeup was another issue. She didn’t mind makeup, but Ianthe caked it on her face. Feyre felt like a Barbie Doll, for Cauldron’s sake!

Feyre felt grateful that Lucien was there. He made sure she ate. Thanks to him, Feyre gained back some of the weight she lost. Lucien comforted her if Feyre went to him to talk about her nightmares. She knew Tamlin heard her puking her guts up, but he never woke up. “We need to put this behind us.” he always said. Feyre didn’t really notice how bad things got until he got angry more often, and started breaking things, or punching holes in the wall.

Feyre got up from the floor. She shuffled over to her bed. Feyre curled up in a ball, once again. After a while of staring in the dark, her eyes closed.

As Feyre walked down the stairs, she saw Lucien and Mor, both dressed, eating Chinese takeout.

“Why are you guys eating Chinese? It’s, like, 8 in the morning.”

Both of them jumped, not hearing her come down the stairs. Lucien was the one who answered.

“Actually, it’s 1 in the afternoon, Feyre.”

“What?”

I slept through half the day? Feyre still felt tired. Why didn’t they wake me up?

“You had a rough day, Feyre. We didn’t want to wake you up.” Mor said, as if sensing Feyre’s thoughts.

“Thanks.” Feyre replied. She really did need that rest.

Feyre fixed herself a cup of coffee and washed an apple. She really didn’t want to eat. Lucien gave her a look, as if to say “You should eat more, Feyre”. Feyre gave him a look of her own, hoping he would get what she wanted to say. Not hungry. I’ll eat more later. He seemed torn between giving her more food, or letting Feyre do what she wanted. He ended up letting Feyre eat her apple, but she knew at dinner, he would make sure she ate a good amount of food.

Throughout the meal, the three of them had a nice conversation. Feyre was glad Mor and Lucien seemed to get along, although she still wanted to know why Mor reacted the way she did to Lucien’s surname. When they were cleaning up, Mor told Lucien and Feyre about the plans for the evening.

“So, I talked with the guys, and if it’s cool with you two, they want to meet up at Rita’s.”

Feyre remembered Rita’s. Well, she’d never been there, but Mor always told her that it was the best club ever. It wasn’t like the gross, stuffy ones they went to during university. Mor promised her, one day everyone would go there. Feyre was excited to see the place so many of the crazy stories her friends told took place.

“That’s fine with me. I’d love to go.” Feyre told Mor.

“It’s fine.” Lucien said. Feyre knew he wasn’t exactly one hundred percent comfortable in this new place, but she was glad he agreed to come. It would be fun.

“Great! We’ll leave in four hours.” Mor said happily, giving them a big smile. “Also, I planned to get you guys some clothes, since I assume you don’t want to wear your clothes from yesterday.”

“Mor, you don’t need to buy us clothes. What we have is fine.” Feyre told her friend. She already had done so much for them by giving Lucien and Feyre a place to stay.

“I insist, Feyre. And technically, I wasn’t going to buy clothes. I have some clothes designed by yours truly you guys can wear.”

“That would be nice. Thank you, Mor.” Lucien said. Feyre agreed with him. It would be nice to have new clothes, and wearing clothes designed by a friend wouldn’t hurt.

“That’s fine. Thank you so much Mor.” Feyre said.

Mor gave them another one of her happy smiles. “Of course. What are friends for?”

Mor was a genius. Lucien wore cream pants, a green jacket embroidered with gold, a white shirt underneath. He had a pair of black shoes on. The entire look was amazing. The clothes fit well, the pants showing off his thighs. Mor, knowing Feyre’s clothing preferences, gave her a pair of ripped black jeans. She also loaned her a pair of black ankle boots, with a slight heel. Feyre wore a white shirt with a black and gray plaid shirt over it. Feyre borrowed some of Mor’s makeup to cover the bruise on her face and put a bit of eyeliner on. It felt good to wear something that was her.

Mor wore a gorgeous tight red dress coming down to her thighs. She paired them with a pair of shiny black heels. Feyre have no idea how Mor was capable of wearing something with that high of a heel. Mor’s hair and makeup completed the look. Her was done in her beautifully natural golden waves, and her makeup, on any other person, would’ve looked like they caked it on, but it looked natural on Mor.

She really was a true genius when it came to fashion.

More gave a little squeal when Lucien and Feyre came down.

“Cauldron, you guys look amazing!” She said, looking both of them up and down, getting a good look at their outfits.

“Thank you again, Mor. These clothes are amazing. You’re such a great designer.” Feyre complimented. Lucien nodded his agreement.

“Awww, thanks Fey! Now, come on! We have to get going. I want to get there before Cassian. He’ll eat everything whether we’re there or not.” Mor said.

They piled in Mor’s car, and she drove off. Mor and Feyre spoke the whole way. Lucien was looking out the window, examine all the places they passed. Eventually, they got to Rita’s. The city it was in was amazing! It was so full of life and there stores for pretty much everything.

“Welcome to Velaris! The City Of Starlight!” Mor exclaimed when we got out of her car.

“Velaris?” Lucien said, confusion showing in his face, “How come I’ve never heard of it?”

Huh. Lucien was right. Feyre grew up in a small town near the border of Prythian. We studied about Prythian, but not once, has Velaris been on a map, or spoken about.

Mor shrugged, “We live on the outskirts of Velaris, but not many people know this city exists. Only people from the Night Court know of its existence. I don’t even think everyone in the Night Court knows Velaris exists. Now, come on! I’m starved.”

Feyre, Lucien, and Mor walked into Rita’s. It definitely wasn’t as crazy as the clubs they went to all those years ago. Mor led them to a booth near the back.

“Feyre!” A voice shouted. She knew the voice instantly.

“Cassian!” Feyre exclaimed. He came up to her and gave her a big hug. Feyre was so happy to see Cassian. They had good times at school. When they parted, Feyre saw the rest of the Inner Circle walking up.

“Amren.” Feyre gave a small smile, not sure how Amren would react to her being here.

“About time you came back.” She replied. Her tone wasn’t as cold as Feyre thought it would be. Out if the corner of her eye, Feyre saw Lucien pale a bit at the sight of Amren. It took time for Feyre to get used to her. Feyre turned to the next Inner Circle member.

“Hey, Azriel.” Feyre said to the quietest member.

“Good to see you, Feyre.” He said, giving her the smallest of smiles.

At last, Feyre turned to the final member of their group - Mor’s cousin.

“Rhys.”

*Naomh (Pronounced Neev) means “holy” in Irish Gaelic*

Hey, guys! I hope this chapter wasn’t trashy. Anyway, please point out any errors I made, and I’ll fix them! So, it looks like there will be multiple POV from now on. I still want there to be a lot of Feyre, though, so I’m going to try and alternate between Feyre's POV and another character's POV. The next chapter will be someone else’s point of view. I’m excited to write it!

Much love to you all! <3

#prythian magazine #part 3 #acotar fanfic #feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #lucien #cassian #amren #azriel #morrigan #modern au #modeling au #my writing

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