#im answering these in the order i get them

[throneofsmut]

BOUND IN FLAMES - Part 12

Eris Vanserra × Archeron-Sister-Reader

Description: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

Warnings: Mentions of death, trauma, and violence. (I think thats it.)

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long !! Idk why i struggled so much to write this and I literally just finished it. i haven't proofread it so if you see a mistske, no you didn't. Anyways I hope you like this part and Im going to start working on part 13 tomorrow. Btw the italics mean that they're communicating mentally (if you didnt know)

Word Court: 6.1k

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You hissed as your body was jostled while Raihn lowered himself to the ground on the floor of the bathroom. 

“All right, the water’s warm.” Alis said as she stood to her full height again, “I'll go get you food and water.” 

“Thank you, Alis.” She nodded her head and left. 

You got off of Raihn’s back, carefully, so as not to stretch open the slice on your stomach. You need to let me heal you before you bathe. Raihn insisted. That way you won’t get an infection while trapped in that mortal body.

“No.” 

Sunshine, I wasn’t asking. 

“It’s going to hurt like it’s happening all over again.” You argued, chest still heaving slightly as you braced your hands on the counter. 

Then stop bleeding and heal yourself. He growled.

You scoffed, eyes narrowed into slits, “I would if I could!”

But you can’t! He snarled. So undress and let me heal you so you can bathe. . . Gods you smell terrible. His lips curled in disgust, you smell of Hybern filth.

Taking a couple deep breaths you steadied yourself and undressed. Letting out hisses and groans of pain when your fighting leathers reopened or pulled on your cuts. Raihn let out a pained whimper at the sight of your cut, bruised and bloody form. Most of it on your back. 

Sunshine—

“—Just heal me. . . please.” You had no doubt that he was wondering about the scars that weren’t on your back. 

Y/n—

“Raihn! Now.” You ordered, taking three steadying breaths—the last one coming out as more of a shudder—bracing yourself for the temporary pain you were going to feel. Raihn’s ear twitching against your head was the only warning you got before he started to heal you.  

It was all you could do to grip onto the counter and sink as your face twisted in a pained grimace. Knuckles white and nostrils flaring as you exhaled sharp breaths through your nose, while your skin painfully knitted back together with his magic.

You could feel each cut and slice healing—even if it was only a few of them—it felt as if they were cutting you all over again. You didn’t feel them land during the fight with all the adrenaline coursing through your body. But now you did. 

And while Raihn heals the few cuts you have he also starts to heal the bruises on your body. Certain parts of your body like your arms and shoulders shake again as you once more feel the force of their blows. 

His deep gruff voice echoes in your mind just as you start to black out. Put your weight on me. . . come on, sunshine. You lean against one of his forelegs heavily as you stagger towards the bathtub filled with bubbles smelling of rose and citrus bathing oils.

Letting out a soft noise of content as you sink down into the warm water, until the bubbles cover you up to your neck. Soaking for a while with your eyes closed, the warm water eases the soreness from your body and you try to relax your mind for a few minutes. Knowing Feyre’s going to want answers sooner than later. Different scenarios run through your mind and none of them end well.

A defeated sigh leaves your lips as you find Raihn’s eyes already on you, studying you,  as he guards the door and you tear your eyes away looking for the bottles of hair products and soaps. Huffing when you spot them on a chair by the counter. Meaning you’d have to get out of the tub to grab them, but before you could even brace your hands on the sides of the tub Raihn gently grabs the bottles in his mouth. Then he drops them into your hands. “Thank you.”

How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to thank me for taking care of you? Raihn mutters. I’ll always take care of you.

“And I'll always take care of you, Raihn.”

Exactly, so why are you thanking me?

You chuckle, pouring one of the bottles of hair product in your hands and then lathering your hair with it. “Well, excuse me for wanting to tell you that I appreciate what you do for me.”

Why tell me when I can feel it through the bond. You do know we’re bonded right? He questions dryly, sarcastically. 

Shaking your head as your lips curve up into a small smile. “Gods, you’re insufferable,” you mutter in the same dry-sarcastic tone as him as you start to rinse out the hair products. Earning a laugh from him. 

You’re one to talk, sunshine. The both of you make eye contact before bursting into laughter. Until you’re cut off by a knock at the door.

“Y/n, I left clean night clothes out for you on the bed and the tray of food you asked for.” Alis announced from the other side of the door. “Do you need anything else?”

“No. Thank you, Alis.”

“All right. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight,” you reply and seconds later you hear her depart and your bedroom door shut. Your eyes land on the bars of soap still on the chair, wordlessly Raihn goes to them, his nose twitching as he sniffs them before picking one. Gently holding it between his teeth as he brings it to you. “Thank you,” you say with a smirk.

He blinks at you, I hate you. 

Earning a loud laugh from you as you reach for a washcloth. Bringing the bar of soap up to your nose, smelling it, “Lavender,” you murmur quietly, looking down at the bar of soap in your hands. “I haven’t used lavender soap in. . . since–”

It was all your mother ever kept in the cottage. 

You nod your head agreeing.

Because it was your favorite, Raihn added.

“Yeah.” you say with a soft smile. Bringing the soap up to your nose one last time before lathering your washcloth with it. Raihn laid in the middle of the bathroom, between the tub, counter and door, and told you everything that happened while you were in the Summer Court. 

You washed while he spoke, scrubbing yourself clean with brutal efficiency. It wasn't much except for the fact that he caught a couple different scents around the perimeter of the manor like they had been scouting. Watching.

“Well Tamlin’s running out of time so I'm not surprised Amarantha’s vultures are circling,” you acknowledge. 

There were three scents I picked up closest to the Manor: two I recognized for sure and the other one was–

“Who were the first two?”

Cahir and your mate, Eris. 

Your brows pinch together as you take a moment to think. “Eris doesn’t even know I’m here and my side of the bond is closed.” Shaking your head, looking at Raihn again, “My sides been closed since I last saw him–the morning after Calanmai.”

Well we know Amarantha sent Cahir and only the Mother knows what schemes your mate is playing at.

“Who was the third scent?”

They–it was sort of like yours, but not. It was more like your mother’s except, Raihn’s head tilted to the side, Rhaenrya smelled of starlight, salt and citrus. And this fae smelled of rain, salt and citrus. 

“Male or female?” you ask him as you stand and wrap a towel around yourself.

Male. . . You smell of starlight, rain and citrus. 

Heading to the door leading to your bedroom, “Yeah, what about it?” Raihn trails closely behind you as you go to your bed, where Alis left the set of night clothes and tray of food. 

You obviously inherited your scents from Rhaenyra and Tamlin. The starlight and citrus from her and the rain from him. 

“So?” You popped a grape into your mouth and then started to dry off before getting dressed. 

So, when I first caught the male’s scent I thought it was you for a split second. Until I realized that it wasn’t. Yes, you both smell like rain but yours is like spring rain and his is like night rain. 

Walking towards your vanity and starting to apply moisturizer to your face and body. “I also don’t smell like salt.” 

But, your mother did, sunshine, Raihn points out. And don’t you remember what she used to say to you all the time, especially when she was hugging you. 

Picking up your hair brush, blinking a couple times, trying to remember what your mother used to tell you when she hugged you. Then it finally hit you. She used to say that you reminded her of her twin because he smelled like rain and citrus too. You meet Raihn’s gaze through the mirror as you brush through your wet hair. “So, what you think the High Lord of the Night Court was here?”

Yes. He answers without hesitation.

“All right, but, do you think he was here for Feyre or me?”

Why can’t it be both? 

“I think the real question is, if he’s trying to help me or if he's trying to kill me?” Raihn lets out a low growl when the last two words leave your mouth. You finish brushing your hair and place the brush back down on the vanity. “Don’t worry, I’ll kill him first if he does.” You tell the white wolf, hoping to reassure him.

“You couldn’t even if you had to.” Raihn growls. “You swore to your mother that you would free him. That he would survive.”

“I swore a lot of things. . .“

Yes, but you didn’t simply give her your word. You made a bargain, he stated matter of factly. 

“I know that,” you say softly, “I don’t need you to remind me.” 

He growls softly, muttering something you choose to ignore and then bites your arm so, so gently, leading you back to your bed–to the tray of food. Eat and rest, he orders.

Climbing onto the bed, getting under the covers, “Gods everyone thinks you’re so terrifying but you’re really just a doting mother,” you taunt.

Shut up, he mutters as he nuzzles the tray of food closer to you so you only have to set it on your lap.

You take a couple bites of the bread Alis put on the tray, before shoving meats and cheeses into your mouth. “Gods, I didn’t realize how hungry I actually was,” you say to Raihn around a mouth full of food.

Slow down or you’re going to choke.

You chew a couple more times before swallowing the food and reaching for the goblet of water on your bedside table. “See what I mean, doting mother.” He grumbles a curse at you as he moves to lay on the foot of the bed. Neither of you say anything else; you finish eating everything on the tray and Raihn stretches out further on the bed. 

Sunshine?

“What?” You arch a brow at him as you place the now empty tray on your bedside table.

I thought you had scars. You couldn’t meet his gaze. I never got a clear look at your back until tonight because you were always hiding it, but I could’ve sworn you would have them. . . I remember feeling every crack and sting, you visibly shudder at his words and he lets out a pained whimper, of the whip coated with fae bane. I felt every–

“I do,” your voice comes out quieter, more haunted than you intended. “I do have them. . . my entire back is covered. Ruined.” He lets out a menacing growl this time. You don’t know if it's to comfort him or yourself, but you move to pet him. “But, the blood spell, it uh, it glamours them. I can’t even feel them because of it–physically anyway.” You admit. 

Raihn lets out another growl, a mix of his own rage and your pain. You open your mouth to reassure him that you’re all right now when there’s a knock at your door. “Y/n, I know you're still awake!” 

Even though his voice was muffled through the door there was no mistaking who that voice belonged to. Lucien. You sighed, patting the top of Raihn’s head before going to open the door. And as soon as you do Lucien walks into your room, but a growl from the massive white wolf halts him midstep. 

“Well, hello to you too, Lucien,” you grumble as you come to stand in front of him. 

His eyes linger on Raihn behind you before finally settling on you. “We need to talk.”

“No. We don’t.” Lucien takes a step closer to you and you hear Raihn get off the bed. Raihn, wait. I want to hear what he has to say, you tell him mind to mind.

If he lays a single finger on you I’ll kill him where he stands, He promises, laying back down on the bed.

No, you won’t, you command.

Why not?

Because he’s Eris’s little brother. 

He only lets out a huff in response, but you know he won’t kill him. Hurt maybe, but kill? No. 

The red-haired male takes two more steps until he’s less than a foot away from you. His eyes narrowing slightly, his lips in a thin line as he looks down at you. “You didn’t have to kill those Hybern soldiers. Tamlin would’ve—“

You scoff, “By the time Tamlin would’ve gotten there they would’ve winnowed back Under the Mountain or to the manor knowing he wasn’t there.”

“You could’ve told him–or me–and we would’ve gone with you!” he argues.

“I don’t need his help or yours!” You had screamed for help–for anyone when Wesley had first taken you, but no one came. That’s when you realized you would have to help yourself. Save yourself. 

Lucien tilts his head, his brows furrowing, one russet eye and one golden-metal boring into yours. “Do you have a death wish or something?”

Shaking your head, chuckling, “Did it look like I have a death wish to you?” You challenge, remembering the fear and shock that laced his features when he saw all the Hybern soldiers slaughtered around you.

When he saw you covered in blood and your mother’s sword—your sword—at Wesley’s throat. Then when his head rolled, his severed hands and bloodied body at your feet.

He looked away, down at his now shaking hands before putting them behind his back. His voice grave, “So you really took out twelve highly trained Hybern soldiers all on your own?”

You shrug, “you saw what happened,” feigning nonchalance but your voice comes out tight. Angry. Wesley’s face flashing in your mind, the relief—the hope in his eyes. The bastard really thought you would grant him mercy when Lucien showed up and suggested Tamlin should deal with him. 

“They could have killed you! They’re highly trained warriors under Amarantha’s command. Personally selected by her.”

“And?”

“And they could have killed you!” he repeats.

Cocking your head to the side.“I think you’re confused, Lucien.”

“What?” His brows were pinched, his voice confused.

Your lips curve into a wicked smirk. “I’m not the one that’s lying dead in the Summer Court right now,” you explain. “There were only twelve of them. They’ll need more than that. Amarantha will need more than that to kill me.”

“But that shouldn't be possible,” he shakes his head, “you, a human girl, killed twelve fae warriors all by yourself. . . you should be d–”

“—Dead?”

“Yes, how’d you do it?” 

“It’s simple. What happened in the Summer Court, is humanity laid bare.” A deep crease forms between his brows. “Fueled by the fear of becoming prey, see how quickly we become predators.” 

His jaw clenches and unclenches before he takes a step closer, so we’re almost chest to chest. “Y/n, you know that's not what I meant.”

You tilt your head, smirking, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lucien.”

“I know you’re not really Feyre’s sister. So, who are you? What are you?”

You give him a sweet smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He scowls at you, nostrils flaring, “Her hair is golden-brown, yours is just golden. Her eyes are blue-gray and yours are deep green with flecks of gold.” You silently curse your mother for making you look so much like Tamlin with the blood spell, but you know once everyone sees you in your true form it won’t take long for them to realize who you are. Once they see your raven-black hair and your eyes that are so blue they’re violet flecked with silver like starlight. “And now that you’ve both been in the sun for weeks, you’ve both tanned, but yours is more sun-kissed, more golden. Deeper than hers” He leans in closer before snarling, “So don’t try to lie to me like I'm some idiot.”

“Siblings aren’t always identical in features. Look at you and Eris, his eyes are amber colored and yours are russet-brown, and you’re tan compared to his fair.”

He scoffs, looking up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Mother help me.” His gaze falls back on you, “I am so sick and tired of you not telling me anything.You can never give me a straight answer.”

“What, Lucien?! What do you want me to tell you?”

“Let’s start with, how did you know Amarantha’s soldiers were in Summer?”

“Raihn, told me.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched, obviously irritated that you were giving him short answers. “And how did he know?”

“He’s been tracking them.”

“Why?”

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?” His words were laced with confusion.

You search his face, trying to find a tell that he’s lying but find none. Sighing, “Amarantha ensnared one of the Suriel and they told her the full prophecy before she killed them.”

His eyes closed when he realized the weight of your words. “She’s hoping to kill Tamlin’s son–his heir–before they kill her.” You don’t bother correcting him about Tamlin’s heir being female. A daughter not a son. 

You.

Nodding, “She’s been sending her lieutenants court to court in search of his heir. So while they’re hunting they’re being hunted.” 

Raihn lets out a low noise of approval at your words causing Lucien’s eyes to dart between the two of you as he takes a couple steps back. 

“So, why wasn’t he with you when you were in the Summer Court?”

“I needed him here to guard the manor.”

Lucien’s brows furrow, “But I was here.”

“If it really came down to it would you save yourself or save her?” He hesitates. “That's what I thought. Raihn wouldn’t hesitate.”

“Tamlin wouldn’t hesitate,” he argues.

You let out a bitter laugh. “He wasn’t even here. He’s been at the border since before I left.”

“You could’ve sent one of the sentries for us. We can help you!”

“I already told you I don’t need your help or his! I have Raihn, you and Tamlin might hesitate, we won’t.”

”What are you so afraid of losing?”

“Feyre,” you breathe. “Amarantha’s taken too much, I’m not gonna stand by and let her take her too!”

His face softens, his voice gentle, “What about you?” 

“I don’t care about what happens to me,” you admit, “I never really have but I do care about what happens to my sister.” 

“But, I care,” he breathes. “I care, because you’re my friend. . . Both of you.” 

You hold his gaze for a moment before gesturing to the dagger on his belt. “Swear it.” He unsheathes it. “Swear to me, you’ll help me keep her alive.”

He glances at his open palm and then at you. Readjusting his hold on the handle of his dagger before sliding it across his palm, “I swear to help you keep your sister–Feyre–alive.” Then he hands the dagger to you and you hesitate before taking it. “Now swear to me you won’t go after Amarantha,” he says.

Shaking your head softly, “I can’t.”

“Y/n you’re going down a path you won’t survive. You’re going to ruin yourself—“

“No,” you say deathly soft, “I am her ruining.” 

“Please, you’re not thinking! She’ll see you coming and kill you before you get close enough to kill her.”

“I want her to see me coming.”

“Why are you so hell bent on going after her?”

“She owes me a debt.”

“A debt?”

You give him a tight nod. “A life debt.” For you mother, fathers, the Summer Court faerie who’s wings she butchered, for taking his eyes, for yourself and for anyone else she’s hurt.

He tries to reason with you. “Think about Feyre, think about how she'd feel if you died.”

“I am thinking about her, I’m doing this for her!” You shout frustratedly, your fingers curling into fists at your side. “You and Tamlin are practically raising her like a lamb to the slaughter for her!” Your nails dig into your palms and seconds later the scent of copper fills your nose. “I’ll kill her before she kills Feyre.” 

“Why are you so sure you’ll kill her?”

“BECAUSE THE SURIEL SAID SO!” You yell, making Lucien stagger back, eyes flashing. 

You just told him who you are, Raihn says gravely.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

“Ten years ago, the Princess of the Night Court, Rhaenyra and her two husbands were killed by Amarantha and her soldiers.” Lucien’s voice came out shaky as he spoke. 

Even though it wasn't a question, you still answered, swallowing hard, “Yes, they were.” 

“And her child was said to have bonded with a wolf from the Illyrian mountains. The first and only Illyrian to have bonded to a wolf since the Great War 500 years ago. A testament to the child's power.” Raihn shifts on the bed, getting Lucien’s attention, then his eyes flick back to you. “They were the only ones to have survived the attack.”

“Yes.”

He ran a hand through his long silky red-hair. “Her child is the “Son of the Night Court,” Tamlin’s heir. . . Tamlin’s son.” 

You scoff, “They never did get that part right,” you say looking over your shoulder at Raihn who lets out a snort. “Princess Rhaenyra did bear him an heir. A daughter not a son. The “Sun of the Night Court.”

Lucien shakes his head in disbelief, “A daughter, not a son? His heir is female? That’s impossible, there’s never been a female—“

“A female heir I know,” you cut him off, “but is it really so hard to believe? Rhaenyra was the most powerful female in the history of Prythian, her brother is the most powerful High Lord in history and Tamlin is a strong High Lord. . .” you argue. “At least that’s what she told me as a child.”

Lucien didn’t say anything, he just stared at you before wordlessly pacing, running his hands through his hair. Suddenly he stopped and turned towards you, “I have to tell him. I have to tell Tamlin.”

Before Lucien could take a step, in a streak of white, Raihn got in front of him. Growling as he blocked his way. 

“Don’t!” you snarl. 

He whirled, “He deserves to know!”

“No, he doesn’t!I've been here for months and he hasn’t even the slightest clue that I'm his daughter!” 

“He thought he had a son,” Lucien tries to argue. “This whole time he thought—he was expecting—a son! Y/n a son—“

“I WILL NEVER BE A SON!” you growl, fisting the front of his green tunic earning a flinch from him. With a frustrated sigh you push him away, “So, no you’re not going to tell him. It won’t change anything.”

“This changes everything.”

“No it doesn’t. I’m still going to kill that Hybern bitch.”

Lucien arches a brow and crosses his arms, “Does your Uncle Rhysand know that his niece is here in Prythian?”

 

“Careful,” you warn. Your jaw clenching and unclenching as you readjust your grip on his dagger. 

“Does he know that you’re here to kill his lover?” 

Faster than anything had the right to be, you pin him to the floor, pressing the tip of his own dagger into his throat. A drop of blood pooling beneath the sharp tip. “You don’t get to talk about him,” you grit out. 

But he continues. “Oh you didn’t know,” he mocks, “Rhysand is Amarantha’s whore.” 

You let out a laugh before you pull back your arm that’s holding the dagger. 

Sunshine, Raihn warns. 

Fuck it!

So lost in your rage that you didn’t notice Tamlin and Feyre came into your room. The High Lord of Spring calls out to stop you, his voice tight,  “Y/n.” 

But you don’t falter, you bring your arm back down and Lucien squeezes his eyes shut and when the sharp tip of the dagger is an inch from his remaining eye Feyre screams, “Y/N!” Her voice is so full of raw fear that it brings you back to your senses. 

And you stab the dagger so hard into the floor that it goes all the way in, to the hilt. So close to Lucien’s head that it cut his ear. His eyes open slowly, finding you inches away from his face, a feral grin on your lips. You can hear his heart pounding in his chest. He shudders visibly beneath when you lean your head down next to his ear. “You say anything like that again to me. . . and I’ll make what Amarantha did to you look like child’s play,” you swear and he stiffens. “Do. You. Understand?” He nods. “Say it,” you hiss and he swallows hard.

“Yes, I understand.” Without another word you get off of him and Raihn moves to stand by your side as Feyre and Tamlin rush to his side. He waves them off, “I’m all right, I’m all right.” 

Tamlin looks him over. “What happened?”

Lucien’s eyes dart to you and glare back. “I crossed the line. I said something I shouldn’t have said.”

“What did you say?” Feyre asks and you feel her eyes on you but yours remain on Lucien.

He shakes his head, “It was disrespectful,” he gives you a tight nod and places his right hand over his heart. “Y/n, I apologize. I’ll never say it again,” he promises. 

You don’t respond. 

“You need to leave,” Tamlin growls.

“Tamlin, you can’t do this!” Feyre urges and that’s when your eyes slide to them and you see the High Lord glaring at you. 

“Me? Me? You-” you chuckle, “you mea– you mean me?”

“Tamlin don’t!” Lucien pleads but Tamlin’s eyes don’t leave mine. 

“You’re full of rage and unchecked. What if you hurt Feyre–”

“–Tamlin,” Feyre gasps.

“I would never,” you swear and take a step towards her, but he steps in front of her blocking you from her.

“She told me that you were covered in blood tonight,” he says.

“I was protecting her.”

“From what?” 

“The blight.” You take another step closer, sizing him up, “And where were you tonight?”

“The border,” he answers.

“Why?”

“To defend and protect her and the Spring Court.” Her and his lands, not you.

You take another step, “From who?”

“The blight,” his jaw clenches and you hear his claws slide out and you take another step so you’re less than a foot away.

“You maim and kill to defend her and your lands from the blight and you’re a hero, but when I do it, I become the enemy. That doesn’t seem fair.”

He takes a step forward and grabs hold of your jaw, “What makes you think you can do anything against the blight?” he snarls. “She will shred you to ribbons, because you are just a girl. Because you are a mistake!”

Feyre and Lucien both yell his name in unison. Raihn lets out a loud viscous growl as he stalks towards him, hackles raised, head lowered, teeth bared. Your face contorts with rage as you rip his hand off of you, “How ‘bout you shut the fuck up!” He takes a fighting stance, now focused on the pissed off wolf in front of him, Feyre shaking behind him and you huff a sigh. “Raihn don’t,” you command. “The blight will get him soon enough.” Raihn lunges at him before coming to stand behind you and Tamlin flinches.

“Get your wolf and get out!” Tamlin seethes.

You let out a cold bitter laugh, “Fine,” and go to your closest and quickly dress. Throwing on the nearest pants, tunic, cloak, and boots while Raihn guards the door. Then you move on to strapping on your knives and your mother’s sword–your sword, all the while you hear Feyre and Lucien attempt to reason with him. 

Grabbing an extra cloak for the Suriel before making your way towards the balcony door, Raihn follows closely behind, but as soon as you grab ahold of the hand Feyre stops you. Her hand gripping your arm so tightly, she might break her hand. “Tamlin, don’t do this!” She tried one last time. 

His voice is cold, his gaze piercing yours, “Say “please” and I’ll let you stay.”

“No.”

“Then leave.”

“Happily,” you snarl.

"Y/n, please!" Feyre's voice is a desperate plea. "Just say it, just say "Please," its just a word."

You turn to look at her. "No. I will never say "please" to him. I will never beg him for anything." You try to make her let go of you, but she doesn't budge, not even when she turns back to Tamlin.

“Tamlin, PLEASE!” Feyre begs, clinging to you like a lifeline. “Please, don’t do this!”

His face softens for her and he’s quiet for a long time. “I’ll allow her to stay for you–”

“–Thank you!” she nearly sobs. 

“But,” he continues, “she’s your responsibility.”

You scoff at his words, but Feyre nods her head. “My sister, my responsibility,” she vows, letting go of your arm to hug you before going to hug Tamlin in thanks.  

Raihn let go, you order, throwing open the balcony doors and leap over the railing. Raihn a step behind you. 

Only making it a couple steps before Feyre calls out for you, leaning on the rail, “Y/n! Where are you going? Tamlin said you could stay!” Lucien and Tamlin join her, standing on either side of her. 

“I need to talk to a friend.” The Suriel. 

Then you hear Lucien, “I’ll go with her, there’s been talks of a girl in the woods. I’ll make sure nothing happens to her.”

You turn around, your eyes settling on the High Lord and you smirk, “Do you hear that Tamlin? There’s a girl in the woods.”

His eyes flash. 

You turn back around and hear Lucien murmuring something else to Feyre, but you can’t make out the words and then moments later he’s walking in step beside you. 

Sighing, “Go back to the manor, Lucien.”

He glances at you, “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

“I’m not alone.”

He peaks around you to look at Raihn, then glances back at you. “You know what I mean.”

Neither of you talk again until you get to clearing in the woods of the Spring Court.

The emissary clears his throat, and gaze snaps to him as you take a seat on a fallen tree trunk in the clearing. “What?”

“I just want to apologize again for what I said about your Uncle.”

“All right.”

“All right? That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to say, Lucien?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess I thought you’d actually stab me this time.”

You chuckle, “I mean I still can, if you want me to.”

He smiles, “No, thank you. . . but I am sorry. Truly.”

“All right.”

“May I ask, why did you get so upset?”

“He’s family.”

Lucien nods before asking, “Have you ever met him?”

“No,” you breathe, “But my mother loved him until her dying breath.”

“Did she–” he hesitates, “did she know about him and her.” He didn’t have to say her name for you to know he was talking about Amarantha. 

You give a single tight nod. “I’m only going to say this once,” he nods so you continue. “They were brother and sister, but bound by more than blood. They were twins as well–counterparts. My mother used to tell me that they knew each other better than they knew themselves. And that he would do anything for his family and his court. So when Amarantha trapped all the courts, he got her out from Under the Mountain just in time, but it cost him. He had to remain. So don’t believe everything you hear about him. He might be with her but I promise you if he could, he would’ve killed her by now.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Me too.”

“And I’m sorry about Tamlin,” he adds.

“Fuck him.”

“He’s trying!”

You force a laugh, “That’s, him trying? Mother save us, I’d for him to stop trying.”

Lucien sighs, “You don’t know him like I do. I’ve known him for centuries, so trust me when I say he’s doing the best that he can.”

“He’s not doing enough! He couldn’t even protect you from that bitch taking your eye!”

“Y/n, listen when I say this, this is war and when you face the kind of threats that he has there’s going to be collateral damage–”

“MY FAMILY is gone. . . were they collateral damage?”

His face soften, “Look, I’m not saying what happened to you isn’t tragic but–”

“—Were you collateral damage, Lucien?” His face softens.

"What would your mother, your father's think about you losing yourself to revenge against Amarantha? How would they feel?" he asks you, his voice gentle. "There's no honor in it."

"I have no honor until I kill her, because of what she did to them, to you, me and everyone else she's ever wronged."

He opens his mouth to say something but that’s when you both hear it: almost like a whisper, cloth dragging over root and stone. Your nostrils flare as you scent the air, confirming who it is. The Suriel. 

The tall, thin veiled figure in the cloak you had given it the last time, sat beside you on the fallen tree trunk. It was focused on Lucien, then it slowly turned to you, the dark hood of the cloak draped over its head blowing in a phantom breeze. “Hello, Darkling.” Click, click went its fingers against each other, one for every word. 

“Hello, old friend,” you greeted back as you handed them the new cloak.

“Thank you.” Its finger’s clicking again. You gave them a small smile and then they peered around to Raihn. “Wolf,” they greeted Raihn, bowing their head and he bowed his in return. Finally, they looked back at Lucien, “Fireling,” they said.

“Hello,” Lucien replied.

“I have three questions,” you tell them.

The Suriel nodded, “Ask them.”

“Does the High Lord of the Night Court know I’m in Prythian?”

“Yes. He knows you’re in the Spring Court, he’s looking for you. But you already knew that.”

“Does he know that I am not a son, that I am female?”

“No one does, except for your wolf and the fireling. Since you killed those Hybern soldiers that you told. . . but know that it will not matter to him either way.”

“Is he going to help me when I go Under the Mountain?”

“That depends on you and your choices.”

You bow your head, “Thank you, old friend.”

They bow their head in return and then shift their gaze to Lucien, “You have two questions, fireling, ask it.”

“Is she really going to be the one that kills Amarantha?”

“Yes.”

“Is she going to survive it?”

The Suriel’s looks back at you, their gaze locking onto yours, “She died when she was born. One cannot kill what is already dead.”

You look at Lucien, his eyes wide and his face pale from the Suriel’s words. 

The Suriel holds your hands in theirs, “Princess, you must be ready!”

“Ready for what?”

“Night will come to Spring when the sun is at its highest.”

“What?” Lucien asks.

But, the Suriel adds, “In three days time a deal will be made.”

You nod. 

“A trade. A life for a life. Remember, “The things we do for love.” Be ready, Princess.” You nod again and the Suriel bends down on a knee and presses the back of your hand to their brow, “Till we meet again, darkling.”

“Till we meet again, old friend.”

They nod to Lucien and Raihn before disappearing back into the woods. 

The three of you were all silent on your walk back to the manor. 

You opened the door to your bedroom to let Raihn, you were about to follow when Lucien stopped you.

“Night will come to Spring when the sun is at its highest.In three days time a deal will be made.” What does that mean, Y/n?” He whispers, his eyes full of panic.

Your face shows no emotion and neither does your voice as you tell him, “It means I’m going Under the Mountain in three days.” 

For other parts: Bound In Flames Series Masterlist

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11

Taglist: @historygeekqueen @cat-or-kitten @yeeyeebabe @khaleesihavilliard @impossibelle @sleepylunarwolf @cutie232 @meepmeep-318 @belledawnidk @fandomrejects @wasntpriscilla @brandywineeeee @thescooby-gang @annblvd @isa1b2h3 @tele86 @glaciuswduo @laceandsuch @hnyclover @spookyboogyuniverse @kennedy-brooke @minaethrym @dustyinkpages @azzydaddy @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @phoenix666stuff @starryhiraeth @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @esposadomd @st4r-girl-official @poetryinshadows @consultinghuntresshasthetardis @lili-flower03 @sunny1616 @tenshis-cake @tenebrisirae @berryzxx

*If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story or to my general taglist, please either reply to this post or send me a message.

[erinwantstowrite]

Hi! idk if you already answered a similar question but do you already know in which order you're going to write the other Peter in gotham aus?

(i love your writing style and im probably eating them up as soon as you write them)

I actually don't know yet which order I want them in,,, alighterwood is pitching for a couple aus to come first (like the Clone one in particular) but I love them all so much that I might just have to do a poll when it gets closer to that time

so if you guys would like a poll where i only kind of sort tell you the premise of each au, lemme know. but it'll still be a minute before we get there

[quinloki]

Been re-reading yan wbp

here we go again

Reader sneaking something into the water while docked at an island basically putting the whole ship asleep. Sneaking out they have no need to be quiet and can grab everything they need because everyone is passed out. Right….? Nope. Someone wasn’t successfully drugged ��

Marco: his devil fruit burnt off the meds around the 5 min mark and was walking the ship looking for answers. He’s upset, you put everyone at risk for your own selfish desire to be “free”. After everything they did you want to leave that bad?!? (It’s his responsibility to protect everyone as the ship’s doctor and no.1 division commander that’s why I think he’s mad ;))

Good thing his devil fruit can heal people, he can hurt you essentially all he wants. Breaking parts of you to fix it moments later just to break a different part of you.

Izou: he noticed something wrong with the water soon as he put it to his lips. He’d be more amused you tried something so big. He knows the island is safe enough.Seems like previous punishment wasn’t thorough enough for you. He’ll fix that.fast.

Ace: his devil fruit burnt it off, took longer than marco but he still wakes up way earlier than everybody else. He’s upset you’d betray him like that. He would likely be so upset and think it was a personal attack he’d hunt you down quick. Depending on what you grabbed and how long you took it would be relatively quick or painfully slow and long in your eyes. The island had a forest, ace grew up in a forest. He’d hunt and toy with you to show you just how helpless you are without him. Without the others.

Thatch: he would very likely not realize. He’d make everyone food and unintentionally be the one who spreads the drugged food to the whole crew. He’d be in the kitchen cleaning up and before he knows it everyone it asleep. Immediately his eyes scan the table checking on everyone and taking notice you’re not there. He hopes to god you didn’t do this because he’d have to be the one to capture you and now they’ll have to check if they have any water that’s not fucked AND restock. He’d be pissed and find you before you even get off the ship. Giving you a taste of your own medicine he’d easily put together a concoction of poison and paralytics to give you or force down your throat while he sits at the edge of the bed he tied you to with either a sick smile or a blank face. You’re not sure what scares you more

Im a bit rusty with writing but I had a terrible(amazing)idea and had to write it . : D

If most of this is jumbled up, oops

My dyslexia messed with my eyes on the second half so if the sentence are out of order my apologies

The fact it’s 1:17 isn’t helping either lol

-💧

Oh man the set up is already dark, but I’mma bury the gauge on this one:

Cw: non con, yandere, torture physical and emotional, dark content.

Marco finds you fast. You’re not being quiet because everyone is supposed to be out, and you’re the only noise on the ship right now. You had been impressively efficient though, if everyone had stayed out for as long as the medicine was meant to knock them out you could’ve been on a ship headed to who knew what island before he stirred.

By the time the others start to come around, you’re nude, tied harshly tight in a spread eagle manner, a gag stuffed into your mouth that has your jaw aching and forces a gag out of you every few minutes.

Not enough for you to choke to death, but there’s no comfort in your position.

Blindfolded, you can’t see, but you can hear and feel and you whimper uselessly as they begin to discuss your fate - hushed details keeping you in the dark as to what’s coming. But you hear enough to feel fear and guilt twist in your stomach.

It starts with someone eating you out. It feels incredible in the haze of coarse rope against your skin and the burning stretch in your limbs. You’re so fully immobile you can’t fight anything being done to you, but the pleasure is a terrifying thing.

You’ve done nothing to deserve it, and you’re painfully aware of that.

Awareness becomes understanding as the first orgasm builds. You’re expecting to be edged, trying not to let yourself slide into the need, but just as the wave crests and brings sweet pleasure and relief

Someone breaks one of your fingers.

Your body was tensed in orgasm when it happened and someone rips the gag from your mouth as you start to truly choke. The break is set, ripping another scream from you and you know the warm feeling of healing from Marco’s flames sinking into the break and sob.

Your fate is sealed.

And the hours pass.

Orgasm, break, set, heal. Again, and again, and again.

You beg, you apologize, you scream - you’re pretty sure you pass out a couple times. The only reprieve you get is when you lose control of your lower functions and they stop long enough to clean you and everything up.

Then it resumes.

It could be for days, the haze of pleasure, intense pain, relief, and complete silence from them makes it impossible to know how long you endure it. Every bone in your hands and feet were broken as far as you could tell. One by one. Set. And then healed.

But Marco’s healing isn’t perfect. So everything ached and throbbed.

Nothing was broken twice, but you don’t know that until later.

You are shattered at the end of it. There is nothing left of you but enough will to move a doll. You smile at your masters, and agree meekly, doing all they ask. You never look afraid. You’re always relieved to be guided by one of them, moved and slowly, oh so slowly, built back up piece by piece just as they wish.

It takes a few months for you to stop screaming in pain when you cum. A few more after that for you to ask for it.

Some part of you survived. Enough that they dont grow distant, that they don’t suddenly feel disconnected from you. Some stubborn thing in your heart that says you are you.

But it’s never enough for you to consider anything other than how you can love and please them.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

oop, idiot doodles alert-

[daily-dose-of-danno]

Can you post video clips, too? or only screenshots?

Season 3, Episode 7 - Livin' Large

I can post video clips, too! I haven't before, mostly because this blog was originally intended to just be a single screenshot of Danny per day, but it's sort of become a screenshot source and request spot as of lately lol

[theneighborhoodwatch]

wally and home both in a home.

the studio maybe? or the association?

or their just being a couple of goobers.

(context)

in-universe, given that it's paired with another house surrounding one of wally's eyes, i think it's just there to communicate that A.) currently wally and home are the only two on the other side who are fully In The Know (or at least more in the know than the rest of the gang) and/or B.) wally and home are a package deal - if you want to get on wally's good side and stay there, how you treat home (or at least the idea of home) will be a Huge part of that. presumably, this also applies to home, but he's such a mysterious character that while we can speculate about what his standards for wally's treatment are, trying to find anything definitive is more difficult.

alternatively (my friend @kindestegg suggested this one, jokingly at the time) it's just showing off the two sides of wally - on the one hand, he is Always Watching. on the other hand he's just a guy who wants to live peacefully with his home.

[puppyeared]

i am playing professor layton and the curious village on my ds. very fun!!!

I don't know if i'm very far in because most of the time spent in that game was me being confused and bad at puzzles. it's fun though.

!!! im glad to hear youre enjoying it!! its one of my fav titles and honestly such an underrated series, id love it if more ppl gave it a try!

the puzzles can be difficult but very rewarding!! i used to dread them as a kid but now i find them nice and challenging. the math ones are still hard, but if u speak to Flick at the cafe he'll give you chess puzzles which i think were my favorite ^_^

[fuckyeahkagepro]

Ayano no Koufuku Riron - cover + PV by NIJISANJI

[boxwinebaddie]

hi uncle nina! sorry if this is kinda overbearing, but you havent posted anything today so i just wanna check in and make sure youre doing okay! <3

oh my god, sweetheart!!! this is not overbearing AT ALL! this is extremely thoughtful and makes me feel extremely validated. <3

i'm sorry for causing concern, but ty for being concerned about me.

because the school year is coming to a close, things around me at work have been pretty intense, so i've been tossed around like a ragdoll the past week and haven't had much time to write as a result. i also haven't been sleeping very well and rush a lot in the mornings, so i've forgotten to take my mood stabilizer the past couple of days which makes me v sluggish, zombie-ish and unpleasant in general. :/

...when i am like that, as a weird way of sparing you, i suppose, i try not to post on here too much because it feels quite shitty indeed for you to get a notification for my blog just to watch me bitch n moan.

however, i have taken my medication today and feel bad for fumbling kyle week...as we know i'm not really good at holding myself accountable or making deadlines. oddly enough, it's not that i don't want to answer my questions, it's just that other than not being able to really find the time recently, i just can't find the right...words?

( this ask is long and irrelevant, but read if you wish. ilysm. )

or, rather, i don't feel knowledgeable enough the subjects to answer? specifically in the areas of my tsot/tfbw styles and ncuniverses, i feel a little insecure because i don't know sp or the games as well as many other people do, so i'm trying to speed watch episodes/watch speed runs of the games online so i can at least keep some canon intact?

i also am finding that creating and understanding how high fantasy universes work is...difficult? lmao? also because i did crazy stuff with mutations and science and politics in my tfbw ncuniverse, that's also complicated and out of my wheelhouse...tldr: i have big ideas, but i'm not very good at backing them in fact or doing analytical stuff.

but...iiiiii need to, lmao. mental illness, but if i make a universe it has to be fully realized, it has to all make as much sense as possible, echo the canon, enhance it, feel real and be fluid...so if i'm not around too much it's because i'm trying to bolster myself with my sp knowledge ( ik, i'm a fake fan ) and watch/read/research high fantasy concepts and superhero/scientific fiction/dystopian stuff...so if anyone has any recommendations for me to watch or learn from in those realms, i'd appreciate it. again, this is intense...but i care a lot about my craft.

and specifically crafting something worthy of all of you, that makes sense, lives and breathes, reflects the show we love & is interesting.

ANYWAYS!!!! with that said, i got a cool ask about whether or not i have a gunslinger kyle? which? not yet? BUT YOU'RE A GENIUS BABY I AM SOOOOO ON IT!!! please let me cook and watch some things because actually, oh my god, i am very down. i'll update you. i might make a board to gather ideas, omg, omg, it'll be SPICY.

i got an ask about princess kylie, which, bless you, i am also still developing her character, i am going to pour over the books, watch some GOT, do some mapping out, watch some intricate dnd play throughs...and have some answers for you very soon: hang on, baby.

( she's little, bitchy, prissy and does need to be babysat, i'm afraid. )

got some on jersey i'm excited about! sorry for writing that ask meme about the sour skittles like that, again, writing has been trying for me lately and i had a concept that i wanted to share but wasn't sure how to express that. if you guys are alright with getting my asks in the form of notes some times i would appreciate it! anyways, keep your eyes out for some of those...if kyle week runs into next week, sorry.

idk...this is so long. all this to say...i'm really sorry? i haven't been a very solid creator lately, but i'm a little unstable rn. but i am working on it and i hope to be back on the horse by tonight and share my notes at least and show you guys how my brain is working.

in the mean time, please direct as many questions as you would like in the direction of riley, teri and ana who not only are epic writers but have been an epic support system/helping me get back into things.

thank you for caring, thank you for reading...keeping up with this blog and the questions and creating constantly is sometimes challenging, but very rewarding. i promise that i am not neglecting my asks or all of you because i don't care, its actually because i care very much and only want to give you stuff that is awesome and cool and well researched. so, again, just give me a second to get my barings and while it kind of eats at my bad bpd brain i might try and share stuff with you guys that's half baked because the feedback might help.

tldr: i love you, this made no sense, i'm a mess, but i am fine.

miss you and love you. happy kyle week.

-uncle nina

[altruistic-meme]

why am i sad!!!!!!! where did it come from!!!!!!!!

[just-bendy]

Well...I don't even know what to ask, because if I ask a question, you answer it to another person the next day (in the sense that he managed to be the first), therefore...Can I just hug this cute ink Stitch?

"If I ask a question, you answer it to another person the next day."

Listen here, pal. Ya ain't exactly on any VIP lists, not that we even have one to begin with. We'll get to yer question when we get to it, unless it's related to any event we got goin' on then yer ask becomes high priority. Otherwise ya gotta be more patient, okay? Here's yer hug.

[just-rogi]

im so fucking tired of going to the doctors. i cant keep up. every week its a new test or a new lab or a new specialist. i'm just exhausted. i have to go in for blood work AGAIN- this is the fourth time since april. its expensive, and time consuming, and honestly? im tired. im just tired. all the fucking time im tired of the lack of answers, and the phone calls in the middle of the day, and crying at work in front of my students, and opening my email to new lab results every other day. IM TIRED OF IT!!! im not even afraid of hospitals or needles i never have been, even as a kid, but i couldnt stop crying last time i got bloodwork. ive never been upset by bloodwork before what the fuck. last week i had an ultrasound of my liver and i got a call in the middle of the work day today that i need to get a BONE SCAN?? are you kidding me?? im scared. and im tired. and im angry. and i dont want to do any of this. i just want to cry and isolate myself and go to bed and not see anyone ever but i cant fucking do that because i have to go get injected with radioactive contrast material and wait four hours so they can see what is wrong with my bone enzymes.

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

Aspect of Order: Primordial & Present-Day

One of the first deities, part of what is known as the Primordial Triad. It created the planes alongside the Aspects of Chaos and the In-Between and held dominion over the Material Plane. It embodied order in the way nature has order: the life cycle, gravity, the tides, the surety that the seasons will change, the patterns that appear in flora and fauna alike, the symmetry of pinecones and butterflies. It was associated with the night as a time of quiet preparation where the world rests, and when one can see the remains of creation in the darkened sky. It is said that the two moons of the Material Plane are its eyes, watching over its creations.

All three members of the Primordial Triad are referred to with "it", so ancient and unfathomable that applying a mortal, transient concept of gender to them seemed almost blasphemous.

Almost.

The modern-day conception of Order is quite different. Though she still reigns over the night and natural laws, her followers have placed her at the forefront of the creation process, reducing the In-Between's role and rejecting Chaos altogether. Though most present-day cultures think of her in this way, many of them do not emphasize her: she is an invisible Over-God, keeping the other deities and forces in line and maintaining cosmic balance from behind the scenes. In places where she is worshipped heavily, however, she is placed at the forefront of the pantheon. In those cases, worship of deities with overlapping domains is either illegal (ex local gods of justice) or considered secondary to her (ex the god of the Wilds). The worship of smaller, local deities is usually discouraged or suppressed over-all in these areas in order to encourage a more structured, uniform religious practice. While both aspects of Order championed paladins, Primordial Order also championed druids and rangers while Modern Order champions clerics.

Ancient theologians debated whether or not Order and Chaos were two aspects of the same being (ironically, there was no question that the In-Between was its own separate force). However, following the iconoclasm that effectively forced Chaos out of the pantheon and created the modern conception of Order, such lines of thought were considered heretical, and then blasphemous.

The iconoclasm did have an unintended consequence, however. Crying motifs appeared in some art of Primordial Order around that time, particularly in the areas that resisted the iconoclasts more intensely. Some scholars believe that it may have been a direct reaction to the event: Order mourning the loss of its counterpart. Others have argued, however, that the lack of such motifs (or equivalents) in depictions of the In-Between prove this wrong. After all, why would it not also be grieving?

[corntort]

I'm gonna be 100% honest, for the last like month or so I just assumed hylics was like. an oc world or DND campaign you were in

FOR REAL??? THAT'S AWESOME man i wish . i'd love to create such a foreign diverse and intruiging world like hylics. HEAVILY recc getting into it though both games are super super cheap and theyre such a unique and dazzling experience. ill be real you wont know really what the Fuck is going on at first but having people clarify to you the canon in a community as lovely as the hylics one is a treat. i'm always open to clarifying as best i can to those who are wanting to get into it!!!

[hopefulqueer]

Okay fuck it, last resort bc I have to have this final skit written tomorrow: ideas for a short (<5 minute, 4-8 actors) skit to give to 5th graders to perform around a campfire at a nature camp? It should be funny, positive (or at least not mean-spirited), and bonus points for having an outdoorsy theme (definitely doesn't have to be educational). Extra bonus points if it features Bigfoot because that's what I've been trying to write it about and everything just keeps falling flat.

[pigeonwhumps]

🎶 for Lea and Theo?

Theo's colouring in Lea's room when she taps him on the knee.

He looks up to see her watching him hopefully. She points towards the CD player and signs, "Dance?" It's a request, and Theo nods eagerly. It's been well over a year since he last danced with her, danced with anyone really, and he's missed it.

Her face lights up as he climbs to his feet and holds out his hand. She takes it gently, her other hand touching his waist.

Lea leads, of course. She always has. She can hear the music, and she knows the steps better than him. He rests his free hand on her shoulder.

He thinks he makes some sort of noise as they start to move. Because he knows this dance, and it's not one she would've been taught. It's one they made up, the two of them, in secret, tired and scared and hurting, left alone for the night after their dance lessons at the facility. He steps with her, heart full to bursting.

Because this means she remembers. Well, she doesn't remember, not really, she doesn't remember him, but her body remembers their dance. That's more than he thought they'd get.

He rests his head on her shoulder, like he used to, and she does the same, stepping closer to tangle themselves together. She's soft and warm and oh, he's missed her. It settles something in him to have her here again. He closes his eyes, trusting in her, just stepping, stepping, stepping.